Twenty-Four
Theo
E ven as the sun starts to fade, Christmas Day excitement buzzes in the air. Impromptu sledding plans are thrown together, outdoor gear tugged on, and phones blow up with texts locking in meet-up locations.
“Hurry!” Jovie barrels through the house in a sequin-clad stampede, boots thudding, Stardust locked in a chokehold. “It’s time to go!”
“No shoes inside, Jo!” Willow warns.
Rowan snags Jovie as she sprints past him, scooping her up with a grunt. “Ease up, sis,” he says, tossing her onto his shoulders. “A little dirt won’t hurt.”
Willow raises an eyebrow. “Louder, please, so Mom can hear.”
As if summoned by the idea of mess, Mom materializes in the foyer. “Hear what?”
She’s dressed for a dinner party at a friend’s place, her sparkly new earrings—a gift from my stepdad—catching the light as she calls up the stairs.
“Move it, Graham! You know Elaine’s pinecone cheeseballs disappear in five minutes flat! I’m not spending another year watching you sulk over missed dairy connections.”
Graham stumbles down, one arm still halfway into his cardigan. He shrugs it on, then flashes Mom a playful grin while fiddling with the buttons. “I’m moving! I’m moving! Do you think she’ll do those brie and pear tartlets again? Ooh —what about the creamy artichoke dip?”
The easy affection between them still startles me at times. Mom would’ve never dared tease my sperm donor. Hell, she’d rarely chanced laughing in front of him.
“Did you know I proposed to this man with a block of cheese?” she jokes, stepping up to fix Graham’s tie.
He gives her a grateful peck on the lips before tackling his coat and boots.
“Bundle up and behave!” Mom points her clutch at the sledding troupe before flinging open the front door. “Oh, my! Hello, Sienna!”
Asher’s ex stands on the porch, her gaze bouncing around nervously. She shifts on her feet, holding up both hands in front of her. “I didn’t know this was a whole family affair. I don’t want to intrude on your plans.”
“Nonsense,” Asher says, stepping forward to take charge. “I need someone to help me haul Stardust up the hill.” He juts a thumb over his shoulder at Jovie’s toy. “He may be a unicorn, but he weighs as much as three elephants. ”
“Not true!” Jovie sticks out her tongue, shooting him a playful scowl.
Asher turns toward our niece. “So, you’ll pull him up the hill?”
Jovie nods. “Yup. If you pull me!”
With that settled, the group files out, and the house slips into a familiar kind of quiet.
While solitude has always been a reliable companion, this stillness feels different now.
Emptier.
Am I starting to enjoy the madness?
Shaking my head at the thought, I walk back to the living room.
To Isla.
She’s curled up on the couch, wearing a short, olive sweater dress and sporting a pair of knit thigh-highs that cling to her legs with purpose.
That purpose? My undoing.
Her hair catches the fading daylight, wavy strands glinting like flames against the dark cushions.
Noticing my approach, she sits up and stretches, arms lifting high above her head in a slow, sleepy arc. Something about the way her spine bows provokes memories of last night. Memories of her moaning my name while she rode my face.
Fuck.
I touch my bottom lip, craving another taste of her sweetness. My fingers twitch, begging for another chance to sink into her heat.
Every part of me wants more of her.
All of her.
“Didn’t feel like joining the sledding expedition?” she asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear .
“No.” I drop into an armchair across from her. “Big launch in six days. My team is off for the holidays, so I’m on fire patrol.”
“Collaborative and benevolent,” she teases. “Your team must love you.”
“I don’t know about loving me,” I say dryly, “but they like their jobs. My co-founders and I used all of AdCraft’s bullshit practices as a blueprint for what not to do.
” My gaze sharpens. “For example, I like to ensure all our employees are employed over Christmas.” I narrow my eyes.
“Tell me you’re out of a job because you chose to quit. ”
Her lips form a thin, humorless smile. “Define chose .”
Every muscle in my body coils tight. I lean forward, forearms braced on my knees. The fury I thought I’d buried when I left comes roaring back. “Isla, what the hell did they do?”
She shrugs one shoulder. It looks casual, but the tension behind it is impossible to miss.
“Your exit made me reevaluate my goals. I craved freedom, but since life demanded stability, I couldn’t quit my job.
So, I started picking up passion projects.
I cleared every side gig with Legal, of course.
Just to make sure nothing I did interfered with my contract. ”
A chill slides through me.
I know where this is going. And I hate it with every fiber of my being.
“No conflict,” she says. “That didn’t stop them from questioning my loyalty, though. Next thing I knew, I was under a microscope. They touted it as a developmental opportunity . You know what that means.”
“Yes,” I bite out. “A plot to micromanage you into the ground.”
I’ve seen this play before. Watched it unfold when one of my partners dared to challenge the ethics of a shady pharma client .
Isla nods, twisting a gold ring around her thumb.
“They started leaving me off projects. Always the same excuse: Cross-functional collaboration .” Her eyes harden, warm honey crystalizing into stony amber.
“Which apparently stood for passing my accounts to others while I played chair warmer. When my designs showed up in decks with someone else’s name?
” She snorts. “ Collective team effort is a cute code for theft, don’t you think? ”
A lethal dose of rage surges through my veins, but I grit my teeth to prevent myself from interrupting her story.
“Rock bottom hit when they stopped copying me on emails. Simple oversight .” Her air quotes bleed bitterness. “Repeated endlessly. I missed meetings. Pissed off clients. Got labeled as unprofessional. They turned me into a liability, Theo.”
“The assholes froze you out.” All the while, tanking her reputation.
A reputation I knew, without question, was solid.
“They made my role redundant and the job unbearable until I quit. Since I wasn’t technically fired, I didn’t qualify for severance. Thoughtful, huh?”
My knuckles crack as I tighten my grasp on the armrests. The leather groans, echoing the pressure building in my chest.
I want to break something. No. I want to break someone .
Isla tracks my movement as I push to my feet. Crossing the space between us, I sink to my knees in front of her. The rug cushions the impact, but I barely register it. I’m too wound up. Too furious. Close enough now that I’m certain she can feel the anger thrumming through me.
My hands settle on her thighs, fingers flexing against the soft wool of her dress. “Who?” The demand is too calm for the violence coiled beneath it .
She blinks, coppery lashes fanning against freckled skin. “What?”
“Names, Isla.” My touch tightens. “The prick who slashed you from project rosters. The thief who picked your designs apart before stealing your style. The bastard who made you invisible with those email list omissions.” I drag my hands higher, my tone dropping lower.
“Every. Single. One. Down to the fucking intern who forgot your Friday drink order.”
She reels back. “How…” A small frown creases the space between her eyebrows. “How do you know about the coffee snubs?”
“Inferencing skills. Experience.” After all, pettiness is AdCraft’s company policy. “I’ll burn them to the ground, Sunshine. And I won’t even need a match.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, her gaze sharpening with interest. For a moment, I’m certain she’s going to comply and start listing off the assholes one by one.
“Forget it,” she says instead. “It’s not worth it. They’re not worth it.” Her fingers wrap around mine, cool against my overheated skin. “I’ve dealt with it.”
Of course she’s dealt with it. On her own. Like always.
This is a woman who powered through appendicitis until she collapsed in a meeting. Who pushed herself past the breaking point to make a last-minute deadline. And back then, no one was looking out for her.
Least of all me.
I was too busy being a selfish, cowardly dick.
“But I haven’t.” Regret turns my words jagged. “I want to—”
“I know. But you can’t. I need to do this on my own terms.”
Her forehead rests against mine, and her soft bangs brush my skin, carrying the faint scent of cinnamon .
“I refuse to let them take this from me, Theo. I’m starting my own business with the insurance money Graham helped me invest. I have to focus on my future. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone but me.” She pulls back, wide eyes searching mine. “Do you get that?”
“Yes.” I nod. “You’ve got this.” Ever so gently, I cup her face with one hand. The other hand threads through her hair. “I know you don’t need me to be your knight nor your armor, but will you let me stand beside you while you set the world on fire with your talent?”
“That sounds a hell of a lot like strings, Theo. An entire web of them, in fact.”
There’s a weighted warning in her voice. One I decide to take as a challenge.
“Not a web.” My thumb brushes her cheekbone. “A lifeline. Yours to call on or to cut.” A heartbeat elapses between us before I add, “No conditions. I promise.”