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Also? It’s not a sound I’d ever heard out of him until I got here a few weeks ago.
Jude says Trevor’s taking the end of his career hard.
I never knew Trevor well enough to know if myoh my god, he’s hotreaction was warranted every time I saw him—the outside doesn’t always match the inside when it comes to hot sportsers, and good manners can fool a person—but he was Jude’s best friend, which always earned him a point in thegood guycolumn, and the two of them used to be so happy when they were together.
I can’t resist happy.
And I thought I’d bring somehappyinto Trevor’s life with the holidays.
Clearly, I miscalculated.
“I’ll stop. It’s just one Christmas,” I say in response to his grunt, which probably meansif I’d known you loved Christmas when I hate it, I wouldn’t have offered to let you stay here over the holidays. “I can live for one year without a tree. Or I can just go see the quadruplets. They each have trees. And Zeus has a tree. And he put up three for Joey—don’t ask how he themed them—or I can just go hang at any coffee shop in town. They’re all decorated. I can get my fix there. And I’ll start looking for an apartment, but there aren’t exactly a ton of people moving around the holidays, so—”
“If you want a tree, get a tree.”
“It’s okay. I don’t have any of my decorations, and there’s no point in buying new lights all over again when you won’t want them—”
“Zeus will take them when you’re done.”
My lips twitch.
He’s not wrong.
My boss has more Christmas spirit in his admittedly large pinky finger than I do in my whole body.
And that’s ridiculously impressive considering how much I love the holidays.
“Why don’t you like Christmas?” See again,shut up, Meg.
Trevor scratches his chin, then leans in the doorway, tucking his thumbs into his pockets, taking me back to the first time I saw him, which was in baseball pants, andshew. Hot flash.Whyare men so attractive when they stand like that?
Andwhydo I keep forgetting that this man is my brother’s best friend? While it totally earns Trevor points for having good taste in friends—Jude is pretty awesome—I’m aware of the fact that he sees me as nothing more than an overly jolly pest.
“Never mind,” I mutter. I switch my attention back to my computer. “None of my business. Sorry.”
“My parents were—areparty planners.”
I don’t immediately see the connection. I also don’t know what my face is saying while I try to find the link, but whatever it is, it’s apparently amusing. A ghost of a smile crosses his features in the dim light.
It’s a trick, I tell myself. Definitely a trick of the light.
“They made sure everyone else’s holidays were picture-perfect,” he explains with far more patience than he probably feels with me today, but that reminds me of the guy I always thought he was until I moved in here with him. “As soon as I was old enough to help, that’s what I did. Every year. Made sure strangers loved their parties, only to have Christmas day roll around and spend it watching my parents nap all day while I played by myself with whatever last-minute gifts they found for Old Saint Nick to bring.”
“Oh, Trevor, I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs with more movement in his good shoulder than his pitching arm. “It’s all commercial bullshit, and I got more than a lot of kids. Doesn’t usually annoy me this much. Maybe I’m getting grinchy in my old age.”
Or maybe his injury and coming to terms with retirement from baseball is making the holidays worse for him this year. “Lots of people struggle with the holidays.”
“You don’t.”
“Jude says I was born with a candy cane in my mouth.”
“He failed to mention that part when he said you were a good roommate.”
I grimace despite recognizing that he’s trying to make a joke.
And then I start to wonder if my brother knew this would happen, and if he failed to mention to me that he wanted to make sure Trevor wasn’t alonethisholiday season.
