Chapter 8 Penn
Penn
After dropping off the latest haul of arts-and-crafts supplies at the rec center, I slide back behind the wheel.
The heater hums, filling the cab with a cozy warmth, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch Jaylynn buckling in.
There’s a soft, relaxed glow to her, like the edges of her smile are still humming from earlier… activities.
Her phone pings, and she checks the message before setting it on the center console. Must not have been an emergency as she still has that happiness about her.
“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” I ask, stealing a quick glance at her before merging onto the road that winds toward the tree lot on the edge of town. I’m not imagining it—she looks content. Loose-limbed. Sated. All the sex must be doing her good. I grin. Hell, it’s been doing me good too.
“Christmas Vacation,” she says without hesitation, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at my mouth.
“Looks like we have something else in common.”
She shifts in her seat, the faintest sparkle in her eyes. “I like the Grinch too. After your Santa encounter, and I saw you at the inn, I figured you were basically the Christmas Grinch home to ruin Snowberry.”
“You don’t think that anymore.”
“The Grinch is stingy.” Her hand slides across the seat, warm and deliberate, settling on my thigh. Boing. Instant arousal. The kind that shoots through me so fast I have to readjust my grip on the steering wheel. “But you,” she adds in a lower, playful tone, “Are anything but stingy.”
A big laugh bursts out of me, half to cover the way my pulse just spiked. “It’s the holiday season. I feel generous.”
“Oh, yes. Very generous.” She chuckles, and I refocus on the road, though I can’t help the occasional sidelong glance.
“Something about driving out here reminds me of that movie,” I tell her. “Clark and his family going to cut their own tree.”
“Well, we’re not cutting one down,” she says, brushing her thumb over my leg. “We’re going to the lot. And didn’t Clark punch that plastic Santa?”
“My favorite part,” I admit.
“Like I had any doubt.”
She settles back into her seat, her profile bathed in the pale winter light filtering through the windshield. Snow begins to swirl lazily from the gray sky, softening the edges of the world around us.
“Family dinner tonight, huh?” I ask.
She nods, still smiling.
“Do you think they’re really going to buy this?” I slide my hand over hers, still resting on my lap, and give it a squeeze.
“I think anyone within twenty miles can feel the tension radiating off us.”
“We don’t have to fake that part,” I murmur.
The snow thickens, dusting the road in white, and I ease my foot off the gas. “What do you want for Christmas? Other than getting your career back on track.”
She tips her head, thinking. “Honestly? I’ve been so busy I haven’t given it much thought.”
“You have time now.”
“Okay, let me try. One, I already have a hot guy in my bed…” Her grin tilts mischievous. “Two, that hot guy already put my high school humiliation in his place.”
“Not done with that either,” I say, my voice lower now, a promise hidden beneath the words.
She chuckles. “Noted.”
The sound fades and silence fills the cab.
I steal a glance at her, expecting the same playful glint in her eyes, but it’s gone.
Her gaze is distant, her smile nowhere to be found.
Something about the stillness in her expression makes my chest tighten.
She’s not here with me—she’s somewhere else, somewhere in the past. I can guess where.
And I hate the thought of her alone with whatever shadows her Christmas memories hold.
“I’d like to make new Christmas memories,” I say, my voice quieter than I intend.
Her eyes shift to mine. “Yeah?”
I nod. “We always had a quiet Christmas when I was growing up.”
“Not me.” She cocks her head. “Be careful what you wish for, Radman.”
“Oh, I’m not wishing for chaos,” I say with a faint smile.
“I loved a quiet Christmas. Back then, Elaine and I would play cards and board games. My favorite was Trouble. Well, I shouldn’t say it was my favorite because I could never seem to pop a six and get out of home.
” I laugh. “But it really was fun. We’d bake until the kitchen smelled like cinnamon for days.
We’d make homemade gifts—ugly ones, sure—but they meant something.
Those were good times.” My voice thins out, the warmth of the memory colliding with something colder, heavier.
Old hurt, sharp as glass, presses against my ribs.
“But those days were shattered when Earl came into the picture,” she states quietly, as though reading my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I murmur softly.
“You never got that time back.”
“No.” I keep my eyes on the road. “We didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Penn.”
“It’s okay,” I say automatically, though it isn’t—not really. But if I let myself sit in that ache too long, I’ll drown in it.
She shifts in her seat, her tone lighter now. “My house… let’s just say it was the chaos of the Griswolds without the squirrel.”
I let out a low chuckle. “I could probably rustle up a squirrel for you if you want.”
“Heck no,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Then her lips purse in thought. “Although, I wouldn’t mind giving Uncle Jack a good scare.”
My amusement dies. “Uncle Jack?”
Her gaze flicks to mine, almost defiant. “He’s been a bit handsy lately.”
A hot spike of anger shoots through me, and my grip tightens on the wheel. “He better not be handsy with you.”
She waves it off. “I can handle him.”
I don’t like the way she says that. Like she’s had to handle things before. “Do you do things to his coffee too?”
That earns a burst of laughter from her. “I think you’re getting to know me too well.”
“I’m never drinking your coffee again,” I warn, though a smile tugs at my mouth.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe.” Her gaze sharpens in mock warning. “As long as you stay on my good side.”
“Noted,” I say with a nod full of assurance, because I’d never do anything to upset this woman. Not intentionally, anyway.
A song drifts through the speakers, the familiar chords filling the space between us. She turns it up and hums along, her voice low and warm. I don’t want to break the moment, but then she glances at me, hesitant, and I brace myself, knowing what she’s going to ask.
“Do you… ever hear from your parents?”
Even though I knew it was coming, the question still hits me like a cold wind. My hands lock on the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out quickly. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. You just mentioned a quiet Christmas, and I wondered… I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I keep my eyes on the snowy road ahead. “I’m not upset with you, Jay.” I take a breath, then another, searching for the words. “I understand now that my mother gave me to her older sister because she was young, and it was the right thing to do.”
Her voice softens, like she’s afraid to touch the wrong nerve. “But that wasn’t easy for you.”
Wow. She reads me better than anyone ever has. Maybe it’s because I usually keep the gates shut tight—quiet, controlled, making it clear that my business is my business. But it’s more than that. I’ve built this wall for so long I don’t even notice it anymore.
Sure, on the ice I can be a team player. I can play my role, throw my weight, take hits for the guys. But off the ice? I’m not always confident that people actually want me around.
Why would they, when you snarl at them half the time, dude?
Yeah… true.
And if I’m being honest, I’m not all that confident on the ice either—not in the way people think.
I’m the enforcer. That’s my box, my brand.
I’ve got that covered. But I hold back. I know I can do more, but no one’s asking for the skilled guy.
And if I show it, and it’s not what they want, I could be sent down.
Better to stay the guy they expect than risk showing the parts they don’t.
“No, it wasn’t easy,” I admit quietly. “I know it was for the best, but I always wonder… was there something I could have done?”
“You were a baby, Penn,” she says softly.
I shrug. I know she’s right, but when you’ve been left—no matter the reason—there’s this shadow that settles over you. A voice that whispers you weren’t worth keeping. And when it comes to my dad, there’s no sugar-coating it. He truly abandoned me. He’s somewhere out there, fuck knows where.
I glance at her. She’s watching me, eyes warm and unflinching, like she’s trying to hold some of my weight for me.
“I thought she’d come back, you know? My mom.
I thought if I followed the rules, did everything right, became exactly what people wanted, she’d see value in me and come back.
Last we heard, she was out west. But that was a long time ago. ”
Her throat works as she swallows, eyes glistening before she looks away. I don’t want her pity—I hate pity—but with her, I don’t feel the same urge to hide it. I don’t know why. Maybe because she’s carrying her own scars, and deep down, we’re both still a little lost.
“I’m okay, Jay.”
“I know,” she responds, but I see something different in her eyes. “I just… feel for the little boy who grew into a man, and never got to know his parents.”
I clear my throat. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to see her? Your mom, I mean.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.”
“Your dad?”
“He bailed too. I have no idea who he even is.” I shake my head, forcing a lighter tone. “Wow, this got deep for Christmas tree shopping, huh?”
“I like that you shared it with me,” she says, her hand finding my thigh again. “I’m guessing you don’t really open up much.”
I dodge the question. “Your two older brothers. They’re not going to mess with me, are they? Stealing the heart of their younger sister, and that I might not be good enough for her.”
She smirks. “Have you seen yourself? The guys don’t interfere in my dating life.” In a quieter voice, she adds, “Believe me, you’re good enough.”
Her words hit something deep inside me. “They didn’t go after the douchebag who humiliated you at the tree lighting?”
“They were both away at college. They only saw it after the fact. And no, they didn’t go after him.”
“I would have.”
She makes this little sound—half gasp, half disbelief.
“You mean if you were my brother?” she asks.
“No,” I say, my voice firm now. “I mean if I’d seen the way he treated you that night, I would have torn him a new one.”
Her mouth falls open. “Penn… you were there.”
“What? No. I wasn’t there. I’ve never gone to a single tree-light event growing up. Not one.”
Her brow furrows. “But… I saw you. In the crowd. Just before we lit the tree up.”
I stare straight ahead at the road, the memory stirring to life. “Yeah, I was there. I forgot. It was a couple days before Christmas, right? Like the twentieth or twenty-first?” She nods and I continue. “Elaine asked me to go to town to get a box of cereal. That was Flake Appreciation Day?”
“Flake Appreciation Day?” I glance sideways at her, her eyes silently asking if I’m serious.
A grin touches my lips. “Aunt Elaine,” I answer in response, those two words saying everything.
She laughs, the sound bright and warm. “Right. Flake Appreciation Day means you…”
“Eat flaky cereal,” I finish, grinning.
“Ah, yes, of course.” She shakes her head like I’m a mystery she’s slowly unraveling. “You had a very interesting upbringing, Penn.”
“I did.” I shrug, voice softer now. “That night, I ran to town to get cereal for dinner, and left before the ceremony even started.”
She nods slowly, puzzle pieces clicking together in her eyes. “I didn’t realize you never attended any of the ceremonies.”
I keep my gaze steady on the road ahead. I always felt a little out of place, even in my own town. But I don’t say that. The weight of the last half hour hangs between us, heavy enough for a season’s worth of stories. I want to shift the mood, lighten the air.
“Yeah. I am a little disappointed I didn’t get to see your light-up pants, though. You don’t happen to still have them, do you?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t laugh at the joke. Instead, she crinkles her nose, eyes searching mine. “You really would have decked Dylan?”
“Damn straight.”
“We didn’t know each other that well, though.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Why would you have stood up for me?”
My chest tightens. There’s a sudden pinch, like a thread pulling me closer to her.
We’re more alike than either of us realize.
She had friends—more than I ever did—but no one stood up for her.
I saw the video afterward. If I’d been there, let’s just say I wouldn’t have been laughing or documenting her humiliation.
I swallow hard, remembering the posts, the heartbreak in her eyes.
“I would have introduced my fist to his face, because I don’t tolerate people treating other people badly.” Maybe it’s the way I’ve been treated that makes me want to stand up for others. “You know I decked Santa, right? I’d have done the same to Dylan.”
A new light flickers in her gaze. “You can’t just hit people when you feel like it.”
“Did you forget what I do for a living?” I ask, voice low and rough.
“I know, but off the ice…”
“If they deserve it, I think it’s okay. Even Aunt Elaine would’ve approved.”
“Maybe we could get her to sic her feral cats on him.”
I grin. “Yeah, but I think I can handle him.”
Her eyes flicker down, playfully. “But who’s going to take care of you?”
I take her hand, placing it boldly over my cock. “You.”
She gives my swelling dick a soft squeeze, and when I groan, she laughs—soft, genuine, and full of promise. “Can’t wait.” She grins. “Actually, why wait?”
With that she pops the button on my pants, slow and deliberate. But just then, her phone buzzes on the console, shattering the moment. I glance down. The caller ID makes my blood run cold.