“No flirting at the dinner table,” Robert said, slapping a cutting board down in front of Jett, followed by two huge onions. “Save your energy for cutting, Jetty-boy.”
“Harrison is sittingright there, Dad.” Jett took the knife Robert had offered him and pointed it at Harrison. “And unlike me, he knows how to cook.”
Robert ruffled his son’s golden curls. “I know you’re hopeless when it comes to food, but cutting onions isn’t cooking, son.”
Jett shifted in his chair and winced, quickly returning to glowering at Harrison likehewas the one who asked for ten slaps with no safe word.
Robert looked between them, and Harrison inhaled his eggnog, getting some up his nose in his haste to drink it.
While he coughed, Jett chuckled and stuck his tongue out.
“Is something going on with you boys?” Robert asked, his gaze lingering on Jett’s reddening face. “Do you need me to turn the Christmas music up loud and give you a second alone in Jett’s room?”
Jett smacked the table, and one of the onions went tumbling to the floor. “Dad!”
“Well!” Robert said just as loudly. “I can’t tell if you want to punch him or kiss him, and if you ask me, I’d rather not be a witness to either. I like Harrison, but I can’t promise my knife won’t slip if I see him slobbering all over my kid—”
“Ohmygod!”
Harrison was still choking on his eggnog when Jett covered his face with his hands andmeltedunder the table out of sight.
Robert blinked at the spot his adult son had just vanished from and turned to Harrison. “Can you cut the onions? I hate to ask since you’re a guest, but Jett seems too flustered right now.”
Harrison smacked his chest, throat spasming as he gave a sharp nod. “Leave it to me.”
He couldn’t quite duck out of the way when Robert ruffled his hair like he did Jett’s, mussing up his bun.
Jett didn’t reappear until Harrison had finished with the onions and was working on the garlic. His ears were still pink, but he had his bratty look back in place while he brooded in his chair, dimming the brightness of the Christmas decorations around them.
“Just you wait until tonight,” Jett whispered, shooting glances at Robert’s back to make sure he wasn’t listening.
He wasn’t. Robert was singing very off-key to Frosty the Snowman, adding his own lyrics that made no sense at all.
“Why are you mad at me?” Harrison whispered back, smirking. “I wasn’t making fun of you. Robert was.”
“That’sDadto you, Harrison,” Robert said, making them both flinch.
Damn. He had the ears of a fucking cat.
Jett put on a mask of cheerfulness that could have fooled a psychic. It almost fooled Harrison too, but he didn’t trust the glint in those golden-brown eyes.
At the Fraser house, Christmas dinner was a collective effort. Harrison refused to sit and do nothing as the famous lasagna was prepared, so he helped out where he could by stirring sauce, cooking the veggies and sausage, and making more eggnog.
It was different from what he was used to with his family, but Christmas at the Killinger household was like an event, and not a very fun one at that. There were a lot of formal clothes, chores and sitting out of sight and mind while the adults mingled and enjoyed each other’s company.
The decorations were always silver and blue, or another bland colour. There was no Christmas music playing on the radio while the hosts talked about stupid shit, just a hired pianist or CD with pre-approved songs.
And because Harrison had to work for every drop of affection and praise from his parents, he never got any gifts either. Presents were for Luca, who had all the time in the world to plan his adult life while in school.
Luca, unlike Harrison, would do well academically, so he could take over the family business after their father. It was Harrison’s fault for excelling at hockey instead of business and politics. Harrison didn’t need presents because he would eventually be rich enough to buy whatever he wanted, so why waste the effort on him?
He never blamed Luca for their different upbringings, because despite what his parents thought of him, he had adored Luca since the first day they brought him home from the hospital.
Luca caught on to the Christmas shortcomings at an early age and always made a point of sharing his chocolates and toys when he could get away with it. And that, among so many other reasons, was why Harrison loved him.
He had always thought of himself as lucky for what he had because his parents made a point of reminding him, especially around Christmas. He never used to think of Christmas with his family aslackinguntil he spent five minutes in Robert’s house, dodging the reindeer antlers and Santa hats aimed for his head, and wincing at the volume of the colours and music.
It was then that it hit him, the fucking magic of Christmas that he’d always heard others raving about. It wasn’t literal magic, like a fat man climbing down a chimney or the thump of hooves on the roof at midnight; it wasthis.
