“The ice came in sooner than expected. Tyler tried to walk down the front walk but it’s too slippery. Pretty sure the roads are nothing but ice, too. There’s no way he’ll make it back to the apartment. Would you kids feel weird if he slept on the air mattress in my art room?”
Abby’s face screws up.
“Mom, he’s, like, here all the time. We’re used to him,” she says.
“Think he’d play my game with me?” is all Jay asks.
“I’m sure he would, son. Okay, if you guys won’t feel uncomfortable, I’ll offer it to him.”
They both resume their game and call, and I head to the kitchen, giving Tyler a thumb’s up.
“Jay! Quick, there’s a sniper to your left.”
“Noooooo,” Jay groans when his character falls to the ground.
Jay’s just hitting the button to start a new game when Jo appears in the doorway. She’s changed into a pajama set covered in tiny llamas and the wordsMama Llama. Her hair’s curly again today, soft yet wild like her, exactly how I like it. All that untamed wildness deserves to be set free, not straightened and forced into submission. And now, seeing those loose ringlets hits me square in the chest.
“Jay, it’s getting late. If we’re leaving cookies for Santa, we need to get this show on the road. Then it’s bedtime.”
“All right,” Jay grumbles. I switch off the game and the three of us head to the kitchen. Abby is already at the kitchen table, writing something on a piece of paper.
“Jay, you need to write your note to Santa,” Abby says when she looks up.
She slides him a piece of notebook paper and Jay sits to write. Jo grabs a carton of milk and a carrot from the fridge and sets them beside a plate of snickerdoodles.
“When y’all finish the letters, let’s set out the milk and cookies. Then you two need to get to bed,” Jo says.
They finish their letters a few minutes later, and I linger in the kitchen doorway, watching quietly as the three of them get everything ready for Santa. Jay carefully pours a small glass of milk while Abby lays out three cookies and a peeled carrot on a plate. I’m hit by a memory of my mom doing this very thing with Austin, Cassie, and me. Austin and I had outgrown Santa, but we played along for Cassie’s sake.
And there it is again—the ache that keeps showing up, reminding me how much I’ve missed. I wonder if Jo has a clue what this means to me. What it feels like to be here experiencing this tradition with them. Yes, I could have flown back to Texas to visit my parents, but the only place I want to be this Christmas is right here in Jo’s kitchen with this family.My family, my pounding heart says.
Jay and Abby head off to brush their teeth, but Jo pauses in the doorway beside me. She’s standing too close for clear thoughts, and all I can breathe in is her.
“So, they still believe?” I ask, mostly to distract myself from the urge to touch her.
Jo cocks a brow. “Abby’s thirteen, Tyler. She plays along for Jay. Though, I suspect this is his last year. He’s made a few comments, things he hears at school from other kids.”
Her expression shifts, a coy smile touching her lips. Now it’s my turn to cock a brow at her. “What’s that smile for?” I ask.
Her gaze tips upward and I follow her line of sight.
Mistletoe.
Not one to waste a perfectly good opportunity while standing under mistletoe with Jo, I step in closer.
“There are certain rules about mistletoe, you know.”
She places a hand on my chest, fingernails scratching lightly, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, but Tyler, I’ve never been one to follow rules,” she says, teasing.
“Follow this one. Please, sweetheart.”
There’s a beat of stillness before I see something flicker behind her eyes; the exact second she makes up her mind. Smiling, Jo nods, and I slide a hand around her waist, the other threading into her hair. I tug lightly, positioning her exactly how I want her and she lets out a breathy sigh, leaning into me.
Taking control, I back her up until she’s against the door frame and lean in, placing my lips on hers. They part like an invitation, and I take it, swiping my tongue in her mouth to get a taste of her. She tastes sweet, like sugar from the cookies, and if her kids weren’t down the hall getting ready for bed, I’d have her on the kitchen counter, legs spread wide to see if she tastes as sweet as I imagine. My cock is painfully hard with need for Jo.
Pressing against her, hoping she feels what she does to me, I slide my hand under her shirt to the bare skin of her back, pulling her body flush against my own. Like somehow I could get more. More of Jo, more of this moment.
Kissing her feels like a spark catching flame, igniting every want, every desire, and fusing them into this one perfect moment. Jo’s mouth was made for kissing and if I only get this single solitary time with her, I’m damn well making good use of it.
