“You’ve got work too, right?” I asked, setting his plate in front of him.
“Yeah. Although we’re winding down at this time of year.”
I nodded, sitting across from him. “I can lock up after I go. I’ll be back after seven.”
He studied me for a long moment, like he was memorizing something. “You really don’t stop, do you?”
The question made me blush. “I like keeping busy,” I admitted. “It feels strange to just…be still.”
He reached across the counter, covering my hand with his. His palm was warm, grounding. “Then keep doing what makes you feel safe. Just remember you don’t have to earn your place here.”
I couldn’t speak for a second. The words hit harder than I expected. “Yes, sir,” I whispered, and hoped he didn’t see the way my throat moved.
The music swelled again, and for a heartbeat I thought,Maybe this is what home feels like.Not a place. A moment. A person.
And I wasn’t ready to let it go.
I’d been walking on air all afternoon. The office party was loud, bright, full of cheap cookies and the soft shriek of kids who couldn’t believe Santa had shown up in person. I’d nailed the entrance, ignored my nerves, and even the adults seemed delighted. There was a line for selfies, a contest for the best Christmas sweater, and at least three people had tried to slip their wish lists into my sack. I’d smiled until my cheeks hurt. I only had two hours with the kids then they were running an adult Secret Santa. I hated those, but beggars can’t be choosers and all that.
Then I saw him.
Jason.
He was at the back of the conference room, red tie already loosened, whiskey in one hand, phone in the other. For a second, I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was just someone who looked like him. But the second he looked up, his gaze locked on mine and I knew.
Damn.
I almost dropped the parcel I was giving the little girl. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought everyone could hear it. I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear. But I couldn’t. I was in the suit, the beard, the boots. Santa didn’t panic.
Jason staggered toward the table. I tried to focus on the kids—a little boy tugging at my sleeve, a woman with a camera trying to get her toddler to smile—but I could feel Jason’s eyes burning into me.
He didn’t wait. He cut right through the crowd, already talking too loud.
“Clayton? Is that you?” His words slurred, but the contempt was razor sharp. “Aren’t you a little old for this shit?”
The room seemed to shrink. Every nerve in my body screamed to run, but I just stood there, cookies trembling in my hand.
“Hey, look everybody—it’s my ex. Dressed as Santa Claus.” He barked a laugh. “Didn’t think you could sink any lower, but here we are.”
A couple of people glanced over. I wanted to melt into the floor. One of his coworkers distracted him while the mom got the last little boy away safely. I needed to leave right now, but I had the adult presents to do. He started with the voice. He always did.
“Hey, everybody, did you know Clayton here used to be a big shot? Now he’s Santa. I guess it’s true what they say about hitting rock bottom.” Jason shoved his way to the front, sloshing whiskey on the carpet. His eyes were red. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.
A few people snickered. Someone called out, “Give Santa a lap dance, Jason!” but I could see the way the women nearest the food table stiffened and glanced away. The HR lady looked like she might choke on her cookie.
I tried to ignore it. My whole body felt cold, like the suit wasn’t even there.
Jason kept going. “C’mon, Clayton, let’s get a picture together! For old times’ sake.” He shouldered towards me, reeking of the aftershave I hated and whiskey. His hand landed heavy on my knee.
I tried to stand, but Jason was faster. He flopped right into my lap, knocking the sack of presents sideways, and hollered, “Santa, I’ve been a VERY naughty boy this year.”
A roar of laughter from the guys near the bar. One of them was filming with his phone.
I flushed, heat crawling up my neck. I wanted to disappear. I wanted Felix, or anyone, to just tell me I could leave. But Felix wasn’t here. This was on me.
Jason twisted, pressing his ass hard into my thigh. “Don’t you want to ask what I want for Christmas?” He grinned, teeth bared. “I want a man who doesn’t cry all the time. You hear that, Santa? Think you can manage that?”
The laughter got sharper. Close to mean now. A couple people muttered, but nobody tried to stop him. I tried to shift Jason off me, gently, not wanting to make a scene, but he just braced his arm around my shoulders and leaned in, breath hot and sour.
