Page 4 of Fortress (A Monster By Any Other Name #4)

W hen the weather reporters started yammering about the “Storm of the century!” and “Batten down the hatches, folks, this is going to be a doozie!” Jake figured they wouldn’t want to stick it out at a two-star motel without enough insulation and with a temperamental radiator.

So he asked Toby how’d he feel about heading back to Boulder for a few weeks, just to lie low through the blizzard? Toby nodded, leaning in to rest his head on Jake’s shoulder, and it was settled.

Every reason made sense, in his gut if not always in his head. Still, crossing back into Colorado felt like holding a match over a powder keg. He’d been leery of returning to this place, avoiding it in their sweeps across the Midwest and Southwest.

Now, passing the neat, familiar houses on their way to the apartment, near the grocery store where Toby had had his first panic attack and the park where he had been rendered near-catatonic by an errant Frisbee, the reasons solidified into something that Jake could touch, identify, and maybe curse. Sure, this time around Toby wasn’t plastered to the passenger seat door with his head down, hands locked on his thighs like he thought he might tumble out of the car. Jake’s palms weren’t sticky with a cold sweat on the steering wheel, driving without a goddamn clue about what was going on or how to make it better. But Jake remembered all that so fucking clearly, could still feel the paralysis building in his throat—until he risked a glance toward the shotgun seat and saw Toby sitting with one leg tucked underneath him, textbook and notebook open in his lap, but distracted by the scenery shifting from mountain passes into suburbs and strip malls as he absently tapped his pen under his chin.

Jake let his breath out and consciously relaxed his hands. It was going to be okay. They were going to be okay because they had come leaps and bounds from those two messed-up kids, and they knew how to deal now.

“Hey, Toby, whatcha thinking?”

Toby turned to him, a slight crinkle on his forehead. “You said we’re going back to the same apartment from before?”

“Yep.” Jake flexed his fingers on the wheel. “Same one.”

“They just... kept it for you? We’ve been gone nearly six months. That’s... how does that work?”

Jake grinned. It was a damn good change for Toby to be asking questions, not even with a stutter. “It’s part of the lease I signed. The apartment’s ours for a year. The rent’s paid automatically.”

Toby bit his lip. “Does the A-ASC help with p-payments?”

Jake knew what Toby was getting at. “They don’t know where we are. The lease’s under a different name, Johnson, and if any of the ASC lapdogs show up, they’ll learn to leave the Hawthornes the hell alone.”

Toby’s eyes went distant. “Sometimes the simplest lessons are hardest to... instill.” Before Jake could figure out what put that tone in his voice, Toby gasped, jerking upright in his seat. “Jake!”

Jake almost ran the fucking Eldorado off the road before he saw what Toby was staring at.

Though the sky was just edging into a pink sunset, one of the houses had already switched on their Christmas lights, and they were clearly going for the gold in one of those cheesy neighborhood decorating contests.

Even though the more temperate Boulder weather ensured that any snow that had fallen yet hadn’t stuck around, some white, woolly stuff was spread over the lawn to make up for it. Life-sized plastic reindeer romped through the drifts, either pulling Santa’s sleigh or waiting attentively by the manger in a nativity scene, depending on the side of the yard that caught the eye. Every inch of plant life in the yard had been attacked by some sort of electric light storm: glowing white in the tree branches and green around the trunks, the bushes flashing red, white, and green in some irregular pattern known only to the Christmas gremlins. The house itself was another thing, practically dripping with icicle lights from every eave (and a few things that the homeowners had only thought, or possibly hoped, were eaves). More multicolored lights flashed around every window and door, miniature Christmas tree lamps lined the sidewalk leading to the front door, and across the roof stood giant red-and-green HO HO HO letters maybe five feet tall.

Jake was about to make a crack about overcompensation when Tobias turned to him, his mouth open and eyes shining in wonder, and the words died on Jake’s lips.

“Jake,” Tobias breathed, looking between him and the house as they slowed down, like he thought one of them might disappear if he kept his eyes off them for too long. “What is that?”

“Well,” Jake said, “I guess that’s Christmas.”

After that first house, Tobias saw others with strings of lights lining the roofs, or brightly colored lawn ornaments based on legends and myths he had only read about. Though none of them could match the riot of color, movement, and some indefinable joy that had been in that first house, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

What did it mean, really? He’d heard of Christmas, of course he had (mostly from Jake on those brief December visits when Tobias had been allowed to huddle with him in one of the buildings, feeling warmth in his fingers sometimes for the first time in weeks), but he couldn’t really have said what it was.

How were the decorations chosen? Sometimes there seemed to be themes and patterns, but he didn’t know if they were designed to drive off evil, attract luck, show off wealth for neighbors, or just because they were pretty. Staring into the gathering night, searching for other homes lit as bright as the Freak Camp walls at night (but kinder, welcoming instead of a constant threat), he was wholly distracted by questions of timing, cost, and how anyone with bones as fragile as a real human’s would ever be able to build snowmen on their roofs. Then Jake swung the Eldorado onto their street, and recognition struck him like a bucket of cold water on one of those December days.

“Oh,” Tobias said.

Jake glanced at him, his expression uncharacteristically unreadable, but he clapped his hand on Tobias’s shoulder before getting out of the car.

Habit helped, pushing him into motion. He heaved his bag from the trunk and followed Jake up the stairs as though it were just another generic motel.

The memories hit when Jake unlocked the door, when Tobias stepped inside and saw the well-worn brown couch where he’d slept under Jake the night of the spilled peas, the table where they had shared their first pizza and he had tried not to think of eating the cardboard.

Tobias shuddered and dropped his bag in the doorway. Jake stopped, looking back at him. He raised his eyebrows in a good attempt at his usual quizzical humor, but the tight line of his mouth showed strain. “You okay, Toby?”

Tobias realized his hands were twisting together. He made himself let go, clenching them at his sides. “I just—I remember what I thought the last time I was here.” More specifically, the first time he had walked through that door, expecting so many things that he knew now Jake had never had any intention of doing.

Turning, Tobias slapped hard at the light switch, flooding the living room with light. He moved quickly through the rest of the apartment, flipping on every light before returning to where Jake stood, looking torn between worried and amused.

“Double-checking the breakers?”

Tobias looked him in the eye. “Is that a problem?”Though he meant to snap the words, they still sounded timid, anxious to his ears.

“Nah, it’s cool with me.” Jake forced a grin, and Tobias made himself smile in response before picking up his bag. Jake tilted his head back. “C’mon, let’s shake out these bags.”

Letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, Tobias followed him down the hall.

As glad as he was to be in the bedroom with Jake, preparing to share the single bed like they had in dozens of hotel rooms before, he knew they were both struggling in this place where they had started out. The memory of that first month lingered in the hitches of their evening routine, Tobias fidgeting and fumbling at the closet, trying to decide where to put his bag, Jake walking in and out of the bathroom as he remembered and forgot items, both of them running into each other, bumping elbows at the dresser, touching often as though they were not sure, all over again, that the other would really be there in a few minutes.

Finally getting into bed was a relief. This was a safe place, with Jake’s warmth beside him, but still Tobias could remember before , feeling petrified and ecstatic in this bed, the mix making him queasy even from the soft distance of memory. Shivering, he pulled close to Jake, seeking him out in the dark. “Jake, Jake—”

“Toby.” His voice was hoarse, and his hands found Tobias too, grip just a shade too tight to be casual on his hip, other arm wrapping over his shoulders to draw him in.

They held each other in the dark, Tobias still shivering with things he didn’t want to remember. He’d known nothing in those early days, had neither assurances nor confidence nor faith that Jake could (or would want to) keep him out of camp. It had been almost as bad as camp, he thought now—being in Jake’s arms without understanding anything of trust, being in Jake’s bed without understanding kindness or the kindness of reals, knowing nothing about how to trust Jake or how Jake might trust him to have his back, nothing about strawberries or the ocean.

Tobias didn’t want to remember, didn’t want to lose himself in all those old thoughts: how he’d seen himself, Jake, the world. He wanted Jake , the realness of him now.

Gripping his shoulders, Tobias lifted his mouth to find Jake’s.

They had made out half a dozen times since their last stay at Roger’s. Tobias had the feeling it wasn’t as frequent as either of them would have liked, but even Jake seemed skittish about it. For Tobias, having the power to pull Jake close seemed like a dream to him, too unreal and wonderful to have actually happened without repercussions.

Some things in the real world got easier, requiring less thought and preparation: thumbing through a menu, flicking through channels on the TV, turning the key in the Eldorado, smiling at witnesses without letting the fear, the reality of other onto his face. They didn’t leave him as breathless, terrified, exhilarated, overwhelmed.

Kissing Jake was never one of those things.

If anything, kissing was a fire that burned brighter each time. It was like between them, Tobias and Jake had a store of gasoline just waiting in their bones for the spark. Now Tobias knew Jake’s body like breathing, knew how his lips parted when he wanted Tobias to press harder, knew the feel of Jake’s hand against the small of his back pulling him close, knew how Jake groaned when he slid his hand behind Jake’s neck and held them tight together. He had learned not just to open to Jake, to burn, but maybe even in his monster heart believe he had a right to this, to make Jake lean into his touch like Tobias’s hands were a fire too.

He used to be afraid of this. The lessons about freaks that had gotten too close to reals were burned into his brain, his skin. But Jake always broke off the kiss when Tobias hesitated, because Jake was perfect about the things Tobias couldn’t say.

Even though now Tobias knew Jake wasn’t perfect about everything the way Tobias had once believed. Jake wasn’t always great at following sound medical advice, even though he never failed to make sure Tobias was “better safe than sorry.”Sometimes he drank until he couldn’t walk straight through a room without hitting a bed, much less watch out for himself in a bar. And as good as he was at hunting (one of the best, no one could deny it), he wasn’t as good at research or interviewing. He demanded when he should have coaxed, kicked down the door when he should have waited. He couldn’t always sit still long enough to hear out a witness when Tobias could tell she could be coaxed into telling them what she had seen, if someone could be patient enough to wait out her fear. But even if Jake was not perfect, that was okay, because now he had Tobias to help him, and Tobias was learning, with every kiss, that someone could be perfect and not always do everything right.

Then Jake groaned and pulled back, one hand on his shoulder. Tobias panted for breath, searching his face in the dark.

“Jake?”

“Shit, Toby.” Jake’s eyes were squeezed shut.

“Are you in pain?” Tobias lurched toward the bedside table to snap on the small lamp. A heart-stopping bolt of fear shot through him with a terrible conviction: Jake is sick, Jake is sick from kissing me, how could I ever have thought it would be okay?

Jake groaned again, pulling the pillow from under his head to cover his face. He mumbled something into it, then lifted it enough to say, “PG fuckin’ rule, tiger.”

Tobias stared at him. “What?”

“PG.” Still without looking at him, Jake clapped his palm on Toby’s shoulder, then rolled out of bed. He shut the bathroom door behind him, and a moment later the shower turned on.

Tobias sat upright in bed, struggling to think, until the shower shut off. A moment later, Jake opened the door again, back in his pajamas, wet hair dripping. He paused before the bed.

“You okay?”

Tobias opened and shut his mouth. He had to trust Jake and that it would be okay to ask. “W-we never talked about that rule.”

Jake frowned at him, perplexed.

“The PG rule. When you first said it.” Tobias swallowed, his mouth dry, heart beating too quick in his chest. “I thought it was...”

Jake’s shoulders tensed. Slowly he walked around to his side of the bed and sat down next to Tobias, studying his face in the lamp light.

Tobias made himself continue. “I thought it was about me. Not touching you. I mean. I didn’t know what PG meant at all, but the context—and then I learned from the movies, and it was about keeping it kid friendly. With kissing. Nothing... below the waist.” He’d learned that phrase in the last few months and what it was supposed to mean.

Jake grimaced, making a face not unlike the time he’d tried those Mexican peppers on a dare. “Fuck. Yeah. I guess... we should’ve talked about it.”

He sounded so reluctant that Tobias could’ve laughed if it had been about anything else. But he could still feel the edges of nausea waiting for him.

Jake scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand, then met his gaze. “The PG rule was to protect both of us, okay? Make sure we didn’t get ahead of ourselves when we were still . . . not on the same page. But things are better now, right?”

Tobias nodded quickly.

“I still think we should go slow.” He hesitated. “Do you think you’d better sleep in your own bed? I mean, if that’d feel safer?”

“No,” Tobias said at once. He almost recoiled. They’d slept side by side in every motel since the night they’d left Boulder. He didn’t want to even think about losing that comfort, the safety and warmth of Jake beside him, there whenever Tobias woke up.

“Okay.” Jake smiled, one of his sweet, genuine smiles that only Tobias saw. “So let’s keep doing what we’re doing. Grab some privacy when you need to. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Tobias said, though he wasn’t sure he understood anything.

It would’ve been a hell of a lot harder to be back in Boulder, with all those damn memories of panic attacks and a paralyzed Tobias who was practically a stranger to him, if it hadn’t been for Christmas. Toby fucking loved Christmas, starting with the decorations engulfing houses and buildings all over town like joyful, glow-in-the-dark fungi. Jake had no particular fondness for the trappings of the holiday (any extra cash was always earmarked for ammo, not cheesy decorations for little kids), but he appreciated how as the lights flickered on at dusk, nothing about Boulder looked the same as in summer.

They drove around several nearby ’burbs on a few different nights so Toby could see more of the decorations and because it made an awesome end to Jake’s day to see him so goddamn elated by it all. When they got their first good view of someone’s decked-out Christmas tree, the blinds drawn obligingly for a full view from the street, Toby almost fell off his seat.

“Jake—is that a Christmas tree ? A real one?”

“Sure is. Everyone gets one, sometimes plastic, sometimes one they drag up from some shady tree-salesman, and they wrap it up in all kinds of shit, lights and balls and candy and photos of their great aunt.”

“Ooooh,” Toby said, and then pressed his face back to the window, head turning to follow the tree as Jake coasted slowly around the block.

They saw houses that made that the first one look like amateur hour; they saw the work of professionals with finesse and a certain degree of class, and houses decorated by people who, like Toby, just fucking loved bright, colorful lights—and lots of them. Every block, Toby found another marvel, practically bouncing in his seat, pressing his gloved hands to the glass and saying, “Jake, Jake, look!”It was like he’d lost ten years and had never even heard of Freak Camp, and Jake was pretty sure he had a goofy grin on his own face.

“Have you seen anything like that, Jake?” Toby asked, and Jake could say honestly that he hadn’t, ever, because he’d never really looked at Christmas lights like this before.

As they pulled back onto their street, Toby leaned forward, sucking in another gasp. “The people two doors down from us—they’ve got lights in their windows! They look like a, a cane—”

“Yeah, a candy cane,” Jake said, making a note to pick up a box of those tomorrow.

“And a little man, like those in the other yard—a gingerbread man? And I see a tree through their window too. Jake—” Toby turned back to him, his face nearly as aglow as the lights behind him. “Jake, can we put up lights too?”

Jake hesitated a second too long, and Toby’s smile faded. He looked down, visibly packing down his excitement, and Jake mentally called himself the biggest asshole on the planet. “Dude, ’course we can. We’ll go raid the corner store and get all the lights you want.”

“We don’t have to,” Toby said, addressing the leather seat between them. “It was just an idea, it’s o-okay if we don’t—”

“Hey.” Jake covered Toby’s hand with his own, and Toby looked up. “I want to decorate our apartment with you, okay? It’s just that I—it was never a big thing with... I haven’t done it for a while. But look, this is us, and it’s our damn Christmas, and we can do what we want. And I say let’s make our apartment look like a fucking Fourth of July light show.”

The next day, they raided the hell out of the dollar store, coming away with armloads of lights, ornaments, candles, tinsel, and some stuff Jake couldn’t even identify, but Toby had gotten really excited over it, so that was good enough for him.

They didn’t get to bed until after midnight, when the first frenzy of decorating finally subsided. Jake couldn’t believe how much fun he actually had. Figuring out how to pin blinking colored lights around the window pane was kind of like sprinkling salt or laying a protective circle; there was a general layout for how it should be done but also room to improvise. They scattered bunches of pinecones and holly over the TV, fridge, coffee table, breakfast bar, and even on the shelves inside the closets. They strung garlands around every doorway as carefully as they would lay salt lines, and Jake stuck a little bundle of mistletoe in the center of the kitchen doorway. Whatever Jake had told himself at the start about how he was doing this for Toby, by the end of the night he was planning aloud tomorrow’s to-do list, including getting a big-ass tree so they’d have a place to throw the rest of the lights and tinsel.

But that night, long after Toby’s breathing had slowed into sleep where he was curled against Jake’s side, Jake’s brain would not shut up. His mind kept replaying the last twenty-four hours with Toby, every sweet moment of pure joy, then rewinding to Christmases past.

He’d never really liked the holiday. He’d bashed it in every school he’d attended and backed that opinion up with his fist when someone tried to argue with him. Sometimes he straight up hated it because Christmas was about family. Hawthornes like him and his father were never going to have again what he could barely remember: a warm bright home, with Mom there, lifting him up so he could set ornaments on their tree. They hadn’t had a tree since.

It still hurt to think about those memories of Mom, in the way it hurt to blink away afterimages of something better that you’ll never have again. In the Christmases after, Dad had been there, usually, and when he was, there was eggnog or hot chocolate, takeout, and a badly wrapped present that was still from Dad . Jake had gotten his first crossbow on Christmas. Dad had smiled more then, mellowed by his Christmas bourbon, unless he’d had enough to stare out a window, or into his drink as though he could see her in the bottom of the glass. After he fell asleep on the bed or sofa, there hadn’t been much for Jake to do but finish off the nog and try to find an action marathon on TV. He’d be damned if he’d watch those stupid Christmas specials about family coming home.

A year ago, he’d spent Christmas with Leon.

Jake took a shuddering breath, tightened his arm around Toby (careful, careful not to wake him) and turned toward him. He had Toby now. He hadn’t, a year ago. Then, Toby had still been in Freak Camp, barely surviving a hell that Jake was only now starting to get a clear picture of. Now he was secure in Jake’s arms, and Jake could not, even for a fucking second, regret the trade-off. Never. He had Toby now, safe with him, and Jake was going to give him his first Christmas, their first fucking Christmas, and it was going to be goddamn awesome. The best Christmas ever. That was a promise. And Toby never had to know if Jake’s eyes and throat burned now, thinking about past Christmas ghosts as he took shaky breaths against Toby’s hair, breathing him in.

Going into town the next day, during daylight hours, was not quite as much fun as cruising around the suburbs at night.Toby’s eyes were just as wide, but with more quiet apprehension than excitement.

As they passed packed parking lot after packed parking lot, he turned to Jake. “I don’t remember there being as many people last time.”

Jake grimaced. “Yeah, welcome to shopping hell week.” At least all the public squares were decorated with lots of wreaths and ribbons, not to mention the giant and impeccably decked-out Christmas trees. Hopefully all the glitz and glam would be enough to distract Toby from the crowds and their destination. They could pick up a Christmas tree at any of the big hardware stores and probably some farms outside the city, but everything else required a stop at the grocery store.

Jake paused after killing the engine, parked on the outer edge of the lot. He glanced at Toby, trying to keep it casual. After all, they’d been in grocery stores across the country by now. Toby might not even remember the first time he’d seen this one.

Then again, Jake wouldn’t bet his thirdhand boots on the chances of Toby not remembering his first-ever panic attack.

But Toby was peering toward a fenced area next to the store where huddled treetops were just barely visible over the top. “Are those Christmas trees?” A thread of excitement had crept back into his voice.

Jake relaxed, letting himself grin. “Hell yeah. C’mon, let’s go pick out the baddest mother of the bunch.”

Their breath steamed in the cold, and Jake caught Toby’s gloved fingers in his as they weaved through the parked cars toward the trees.

Once inside the lot, they took their time walking around. Toby brushed his fingers over the needles, examined the sap on the trunks. “They’re real trees.”

Jake didn’t miss the revelation in his voice. He remembered the trees they’d seen driving through the mountains, their roots dug so deep into the rock that they could spread their gnarled branches over the abyss. It was weird to think that these could be the same thing, even if these were fresh (and local) enough to still have snow on their branches. “Yeah. Some people get fake ones, but I figured we’d go for the real deal, y’know?”

He was totally unprepared for Toby’s smile, flashing at him wide and true and brilliant. Then he remembered strawberries, the best pie in the state, and every time Jake had tried to get him the real deal .

Toby’s cheeks flushed pink below his beanie, his lips a little dry in the cold, just like Jake’s. Jake would have to grab some ChapStick for them before they blew out of the store, but for now he settled for tugging Toby closer, where they were half-hidden behind a large evergreen with all its branches clustered together. He rested his thumb beneath Toby’s jaw, and Toby angled his mouth to meet his.

The kiss warmed him through like a shot of scotch, though far sweeter. Jake forgot about the trees, the grocery store, all but Toby here before him, hands lightly clasping his shoulders.

When they broke apart, Toby’s face was even more flushed, his eyes brighter, his shining swollen lips making Jake want nothing but to pull him into the backseat of the car, and better yet back to the apartment. He had to glance away to remember priorities, even as he looped his arm around Toby’s waist.”So, uh. You got a preference for any Douglas fir?”

Toby considered, tilting his head to touch Jake’s shoulder. “How long will they stay alive in our apartment?”

Jake shrugged. “I dunno. Probably through New Year’s, at least.”

Toby turned to him, surprised. “You don’t remember with ones you had before?”

Jake huffed out a short laugh. “Yeah, motel rooms weren’t the best places to go all out on the Christmas-tree-fu. Not much room to cart around a fake one in the Eldorado either.”

“Oh.”Toby frowned, and Jake knew without a doubt that his genius brain was working out the rest. “You... don’t mind having one now, though?”

“Hell nah.” Jake squeezed his hand. “Never had an apartment before, right? It’ll be awesome.”

On the last syllable of awesome , like some goddamn cue, a motor coughed to life, starting low and rising rapidly to a dentist drill whine. Toby flinched away, hard, almost unbalancing Jake, and raised his hands in an aborted motion to cover his ears. Jake swore, pressing his own hands to Toby’s ears, looking for the threat or maybe someone’s head to take off.

Some son of a bitch had a motherfucking chainsaw, using it to daintily prune one of the Christmas trees presumably for the family standing just out of woodchip range, and Jake was going to throw that fucking thing into a goddamn lake as soon as he could step away from Toby. Chainsaws had no fucking place in Christmas, unless it was some cheesy horror film that he would not be seeing this year.

As soon as the motor died away, Jake dropped his hands to Toby’s shoulders, and Toby lifted his head, though his eyes were distant and his breathing uneven. “Hey, Toby. Toby.” After a moment, he met Jake’s eyes, though they were so wide and bleak that Jake had to swallow. “Look, they’re just using a saw to trim the trees, that’s all that’s going on.” Toby followed his gaze to the tent, the family, the loser in the earmuffs chatting amiably to one of the boys who seemed critical of his chop job, but Toby didn’t look much comforted. “Why don’t you hang out in the car, listen to the classical radio station while I get one wrapped up?”

For a moment, Jake thought Toby was going to protest; then the chainsaw motor gunned again, and Toby flinched. He nodded, and Jake led him out of the tree lot.

Twenty minutes later, they had their tree strapped to the Eldorado’s black top (fucking ridiculous looking), and Jake slid back into the driver’s seat. Toby was slouched against the shotgun door, more subdued than he had been since they’d arrived in Boulder. Jake reached for his hand, rubbing his thumb over Toby’s knuckles.

“There’s some stuff I gotta grab inside the store—how about you hang here, guard the tree while I’m gone?”

But Toby roused himself to shake his head, sitting up straight. “No, I want to come with you.” He met Jake’s eye, jaw square and determined in a way Jake had come to fucking love these last couple of months, and he knew Toby was making a point.Toby sure as hell remembered the store and that first panic attack, and he wasn’t going to let that memory or even fucking chainsaws hold him back.

Jake was proud as hell of him, but he wished Toby didn’t have to be so stubborn this time. Waltzing into this grocery store wouldn’t have been a blast under the best of circumstances, and now factoring in Christmas crowds and motorized weaponry—

“I want to go, Jake,” Toby repeated, and this tone was new: insistence mixed with impatience and downright annoyance , like he knew exactly what Jake was thinking and he was tired of waiting to prove him wrong.

Jake’s heart did a funny flip, and he nearly pulled Toby in for another kiss before he could stop himself. Didn’t stop the grin, though. “Okay, okay, you got it. Let’s go.”

Sure enough, just like always, Toby was right. He was fine, though he hung close to Jake the whole time, taking his hand shortly after they walked inside. But some of the Christmasy displays caught his interest, and Jake made a tight circuit to keep to their list.

When they stepped back out into the cold air, Jake didn’t miss Toby’s small triumphant smile. As soon as they’d stowed the bags in the trunk, he caught Toby by the wrist. “Hey.”

Toby looked at him, his smile picking up curiosity around the edges, and Jake drew him in, angling his head to meet his lips. Toby made a sound both surprised and pleased, then kissed Jake back with renewed energy. His hands slipped inside Jake’s jacket, along his sides, and Jake’s grip on Toby tightened.

Aw, dammit . Jake knew where this was going, and it was not particularly appropriate for a midafternoon parking lot. He pulled away reluctantly and immediately regretted even that distance. Toby’s eyes were half-closed, and he leaned after Jake’s lips like he hadn’t been ready to stop anytime soon. Jake stroked his thumb down Toby’s face, a promise for later, before stepping back.

“Wanna circle downtown, rate how it’s decked out with jolly holly, before we head home?”

Toby’s flush hadn’t fully subsided from the kiss and the cold, but this time his smile beamed. “I’d like that.” His words were quiet and intent, like a secret he was sharing just with him, and Jake would never get over how amazing that was.

They drove down Pearl Street to circle the park, heading toward the first library they had walked into together (Jake got a tingle of déjà vu, remembering the look on Toby’s face when he heard his last name). But as they passed another block of shops, Toby made a sudden noise and pressed against the window.

“Jake—is that the bagel shop?”

Slowing, Jake craned his neck to see over Toby’s shoulders, through the fogged-up glass, and then glanced the other way, toward the park clearing and the in-ground amphitheater that was probably cursed. “Yeah, must be the same one.”

Toby fell silent but continued staring out the window. Jake wondered what he was thinking. That day still felt like a god-awful nightmare to Jake. Maybe when the sound of a chainsaw made Toby freeze up, he should remember when strangers talking to Toby at all had rendered him catatonic, how he had sobbed when touched by anyone other than Jake, and how he had no idea what to do with a hug.

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t, because the very thought made Jake’s fingers twitch and flex on the wheel.

“They were nice,” Toby said at last, turning from the window. “I wonder if they...”

“You wanna make a stop?”

Toby hesitated. “Do you want to?”

“Sure.” Jake swung the Eldorado into the one empty space left. “I’m pretty sure those were the best bagels we’ve had in twenty states.”

At first glance, Moe’s Broadway Bagels didn’t seem any different from the other coffee shops and bakeries they’d hit across the country, besides the holiday stickers dotting the windows. A young guy took orders from the crowd of students (many clustered with friends, headphones around their necks), and an older crowd gossiped together. Toby and Jake ordered hot chocolates and a bag of bagels before squeezing through to a small table against the back wall.

Then a heavyset woman with her hair wrapped in a donut-decorated bandana emerged from the kitchen to survey the store. Jake recognized her as Janet, the owner who had given them a ride back to their apartment on their incredibly shitty first outing to the park.He glanced at Toby, who was watching her furtively over the top of his hot chocolate.

Janet made a round of the room, backslapping regulars and making cheerful inquiries.She reached the end of one row of small tables, started to swing back toward the front—then stopped and turned toward them, squinting. Jake sat up straighter, and Toby did the same.

“Now I’ve seen you boys in here before,” Janet said, scrutinizing them with narrowed eyes. “Either that, or I’m getting handsome déjà vu.”

Jake opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Toby stood up and stepped forward.

“I d-don’t think we actually met last time,” he said, rapid but clear. “I’m Tobias Hawthorne.” He held out his hand.

Janet’s mouth fell open, and she stared between him and Jake before bursting into a roar of laughter, clapping her hands once, then moving forward to squeeze Toby in a tight hug. Jake jumped to his feet, but Janet released Toby a moment later. His face was bright red, but he was grinning wide, though several conversations had stopped and more than one customer was looking in their direction.

“Which makes this Jake,” Janet exclaimed, and a second later Jake found himself folded in a breath-stealing grip that actually lifted him off his feet. She set him back down to look at both of them, beaming. “Well, I’ll be damned! Maryann and I were sure we’d run you out of town.”

“Nah, we’ve been on the road for a while,” Jake told her. “The bagels brought us back.”

“Damn straight they brought you home, and right in time for the holidays.” Janet couldn’t have been more pleased if they’d brought her pie. “Well, traveling seems to have done you a world of good. Just wait ’til I call Maryann and tell her who came ’round to say hi. Come back for breakfast on Saturday, she’ll want to see you herself. Oh, hang on a sec, don’t move.” She wheeled around and strode across her shop, through the swinging door behind the counter.

Toby and Jake exchanged a look, but they didn’t have to wait long before Janet reappeared, holding two circular metal tins, each wrapped in colorful ribbon and topped with a large bow. She presented them with a flourish. “Happy holidays!”

“But,” Toby said hesitantly, even as he took a tin, “we were only here once, and then you gave us—”

Janet waved a hand. “You already got today’s bag of bagels, and I know you’ll be in enough from now on to make up for it.” She winked at them. “It’s awfully good to see you boys again. You got holiday plans? You shouldn’t miss the Christmas Eve show in the downtown square; they always have great carols, and there’s free cider and hot chocolate to keep your bones warm.” She jabbed her thumb at the community bulletin board near the front door. “Grab a flyer over there if you want. They handed me about a hundred and I promised I’d get rid of them.”

“We’ll check it out,” Jake said, and he meant it. He’d have had to be blind to miss the way Toby’s eyes lit up.

“Thank you.” Toby lifted his tin. “And for this too.”

“Don’t mention it! It’s Christmas, after all.” She shook their hands, still beaming, before turning back to the other patrons.

Jake and Toby slowly sat back down, Toby staring at his Christmas tin as though it might disappear if he looked away. “What is it?”

Jake rattled his by his ear. “Cookies, I’ll bet. Go ahead and open it.”

Toby looked up, surprised. “Don’t presents go under the tree?”

That stopped Jake mid-rattle. Yeah, they had a giant, honest-to-God Christmas tree strapped on the Eldorado right now, but he hadn’t really thought about the whole present-stacking ordeal that usually came after the decorating. The thought used to make him gag. Non-spiked eggnog, ornaments, and presents under the tree were something that families did when they had matching Christmas pajamas and no nightmares about full moons and Novembers. He’d been planning on getting Toby a bunch of gifts (there were so many things he should have, even if Jake had to drive a couple towns out and hustle some maudlin, drunken assholes to get enough cash for it all), but he’d assumed he’d just pull them out of the shopping bags on Christmas Day, the way he and his dad had in years when they had enough cash for presents.

But fuck, this was Toby’s Christmas, not Leon’s.If anyone deserved a Christmas done right, Toby did.

“Sure,” Jake said at last, “if you want to do it that way, but they’ll probably taste better if you eat them sooner. Besides, they’ll be pretty lonely under there, unless you’re up for some serious shopping. Christmas crowds are a real bitch, you know— these parents get all wild-eyed if you get between them and the last Tickle Me Elmo.”

Toby’s mouth quirked in a grin, wry and confident—one of the fucking hottest varieties, in Jake’s opinion. “Well,” he said with mock thoughtfulness, “if we were quick enough on our feet to take down a half dozen spider monsters and things, we might stand a chance.” The grin faded slightly. “There won’t be chainsaws in every store, will there?”

“Nah, just the hardware stores, and we’ll steer clear of those.”

They grinned at each other, and Toby leaned in closer. “What would you like for Christmas?”

“Aw, Toby, you don’t have to get me anything. I mean, you know what I like. M&Ms, waffles, you by my side, I’m a happy man.”

Toby frowned. “But you get those all the time. That’s not enough for Christmas. What do you usually get?”

And Jake had to laugh, even as he cut his gaze away. Ammo, half a bottle of bourbon, and his dad’s arm around him as they stumbled, trashed, out of the bar at closing, followed by a greasy diner breakfast in the dreary light of dawn, across from the man who had been his whole world since he was four, with absolutely no idea that it was the last time—that was what he’d gotten last year, and it was nothing Toby needed to know about.

Toby took a careful breath. “Okay, well—what do you want for our Christmas?”

Jake shook his head. “Seriously, Toby—okay, look. There’s that outdoorsy backpacking store close to here, right?Bet they sell those nice double-lined fleece socks that feel fucking awesome. You can get me some of those, how’s that?”

Toby stared at him, then at Jake’s well-worn, scuffed boots, which maybe had the sole peeling away on one side, but they were still otherwise solid and comfortable as hell. “You want socks?”

“Yep.Socks and you on Christmas morning, I’ll have everything I need.”

Toby studied him. “Are you getting me socks for Christmas?”

Jake snorted. “C’mon, Toby, you don’t think you need a pair of the awesome socks too?”

“But is that all you’re getting me?”

Jake shrugged defensively. “There may be a couple other things, sure. I’m playing catch-up, right, for all the Christmases we missed? It’s only fair.”

“No, it’s not fair,” Toby returned hotly. “I didn’t get you anything for earlier Christmases either. It’s not fair unless we give each other an equal number of presents.”

“Fine, fine.” Jake held up his hands in surrender. “Let’s call it even at three, all right? Three presents each. That can be three pairs of socks, three kisses, whatever you want.”

Toby sat back and smiled like the Cheshire cat. “I already got you something.”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “You did? When?”

“A few weeks ago.”

Jake eyed him before draining the last of his hot chocolate. “Figures you’d have a head start with this too. You ready to jet? We got a Christmas tree to plant in our living room.”

Early the next day, they went back to Pearl Street for Christmas shopping. Jake said it would only get worse later in the day, so they should go now, a fast and hard surgical strike, like pulling a bad tooth. But he was only talking about the crowds, and Tobias was certain he would be able to manage them. He had a cell phone in case he and Jake were separated, they were avoiding malls and anywhere with unnecessary chainsaw activity, and besides, he was on a mission . The same mission as everyone else in the stores. Tobias was buying presents for someone he loved, so for once, he was no different from any of them.

Jake wanted to hit the bookstore first, which was great since the backpacking store was just a few stores down. Then he dawdled a long minute outside, which confused Tobias until he remembered that presents should be a surprise , told him he’d meet Jake back there in half an hour, and stepped away. He didn’t turn his back until he saw Jake grin, duck his head in acknowledgment, and disappear into the bookstore, a moment before a large group of shoppers moved between them.

The backpacking store was abuzz with activity, employees and customers pressing through the aisles, hurrying without breaking into a run, and products scattered here and there on the floor where someone seemed to have rifled through them before rushing off. No one noticed Tobias, and that was how he liked it best. There was safety in invisibility, and it didn’t take him long to find a wall of socks and locate the double-lined fleece kind he was pretty sure Jake had meant. He took down a few pairs, rubbing the incredible softness between his fingers.

That had been easy. Almost too easy. He had the socks now and the compass necklace wrapped in his duffel at the apartment, but that didn’t seem like enough. They were small, pitiful presents for Christmas.For Jake. Especially considering everything Jake had given him over the last five months: clothes and food and books, anything Tobias had looked at even a few seconds too long.

Strawberries, national parks, the beach.A whole world outside of Freak Camp.

Tobias shivered involuntarily, and his gaze fell on a raised island that showcased different types of hiking boots. He stepped forward and ran his thumb over the leather brim of one shoe, feeling the supple leather.

“Can I help you?”

Tobias turned to see a young salesman smiling inquisitively at him. He looked back at the boot and thought again of Jake’s cracked and peeling boots, the way he had lingered over the shoe selection in the last thrift store before shrugging and turning away with a dismissive nothin’ in my size, mostly crap anyway .

“Yes,” Tobias said finally. “Yes, please.”

When he met Jake outside the bookshop, he kept the large bag behind his back, feeling both exultant and anxious. Jake had his own suspiciously large bag on his wrist, and as he pushed off the wall to peer at what he’d bought, Tobias twisted away.

“It’s secret, right?” he said, a little breathlessly. “You can’t look. We have to wrap them too.”

Amused, Jake gave up trying to get a better look at Tobias’s bag. “The whole nine yards, sure.You got it, Toby.”

They stopped for wrapping paper and gift bags at the same dollar store where they’d gotten their decorations, and Jake took his bags to the bedroom while Tobias stayed in the living room, making his best guess at how wrapping paper worked. Jake had picked up gift bags, freely admitting to being clueless at wrapping.

Once all the presents were under the tree, including Janet’s cookie tins (Tobias had taken the cookies out and put them in Tupperware, but he’d wanted the ribbon-wrapped tins, their first present, under the tree with the rest), they took a minute just to look at their brightly decorated tree and the trove of presents underneath, multicolored lights flashing off the smooth sheen of cellophane and tissue paper.

“What do you know,” Jake said quietly. “It looks like Christmas.”

Snow began falling early on the morning of Christmas Eve, like it had been special-ordered by some cheesy elf. Toby and Jake stayed in, making cookies on the pizza tray and watching a few Christmas classics (no Home Alone , but the Grinch movie was all right). Toby was more absorbed by the decoration possibilities with the cookies, playing with variations of icing and snowflake-shaped sprinkles until they had dozens of brilliantly colored, sugary options.

At dusk, they bundled up and headed back downtown, arriving just as the singers were taking their places and opening their song binders before the crowd. A table to the side had two large Igloo jugs labeled for cider and hot chocolate, and Toby and Jake circled the crowd to fill tiny paper cups with the steaming liquid before finding a good spot to watch.

The choir was from the local university, judging by the logo on their matching scarves. They were bundled in padded jackets and beanie hats topped with fuzzy balls or dangling braids, their breath misting over their music. No one had instruments, not even one of those silver triangles, so hopefully this wasn’t going to suck.

The conductor—probably a professor—stood in front and waved his directing stick once, and the ensemble began with a low hum that had the entire crowd quieting as they strained to hear.

It was the beginning of “Carol of the Bells,” which Jake recognized first from Home Alone . He’d been impressed because that was when Kevin found his balls and decided to take the situation into his own hands, but he’d never heard it sung live before. It sounded totally different, the overlapping parts and the building volume making him feel the song in a way he never had before. And yeah, the singers were pretty fucking good.

Jake glanced at Toby’s parted lips, his eyes fixed in wonder at the choir, and nudged his side before leaning in close. Toby met his eyes, his own wide and shining, and as he turned back to the choir, his gloved fingers found Jake’s, gripping tight and sure.

The next morning, Tobias woke early while Jake was sound asleep. He rolled over to glance at the clock, which told him what he’d expected to see: six o’clock on the dot. Like some part of his brain still heard the FREACS wake-up call blaring through the barracks, Karl’s and Victor’s shouts for the freaks to line up, move your asses quick-quick or we’ll take it out your hides. Even yours, Pretty Freak, not pretty enough to dawdle . Hundreds of miles and months away weren’t enough for his body and mind to forget.

He realized, seconds after the memory had locked his hands around the sheets and clenched his eyes, that it wasn’t just the flashback of klaxons and billy clubs that had woken him. Outside, faint but unmistakable, were church bells, tolling the hour with an added flourish of melody that Tobias recognized from the Christmas carols last night.

A smile spread across his face, and Tobias turned to bury it against Jake’s shoulder.Christmas had arrived at last.

The holiday wasn’t anything like Tobias had expected in the real world. A single day following weeks of anticipation, with hardly a building left without some sign of the holiday, whether that was a wreath, lights, or a huge tree decked with colored globes. The people too seemed different, stopping to wish each other happy holidays when they might not have even spoken at all before.

Of course it wasn’t perfect. People had shoved and argued in the shops over the smallest items, and many looked haggard, with dark circles beneath their eyes. Even Jake had seemed stressed at times, staring at certain traditional Christmas items as though he had never seen them before or wasn’t sure how they could work. Tobias thought that maybe Jake really hadn’t experienced these things before, maybe didn’t always believe the rosy picture that he painted for Tobias. But the more Christmas things they tried out, stringing lights and baking cookies, the more Jake had relaxed and seemed to actually enjoy it as much as Tobias did.

And here they were, finally, at Christmas Day.

Tobias felt another thrill of excitement, but he smothered it against his pillow, not ready yet to wake Jake. He wasn’t sure what people did on Christmas Day, apart from opening presents. He couldn’t wait to see Jake open his, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Jake might have gotten him. Jake had already given him so many things (books, clothes, a wallet and real ID, and food, so much food every day that he never felt hungry). What would he have chosen specially for Christmas?

There was nothing, nothing Tobias could give Jake that could equal even a fraction of all of that. But that wasn’t what Christmas was about, according to all the shows and stories. It wasn’t about repayment, but... family. Being with family, and showing you cared.Maybe Tobias could do that much.

Still, he hoped he’d gotten the right presents for Jake. Jake had only asked for socks, and Tobias couldn’t help the nagging conviction that something—or maybe everything—he’d gotten Jake was totally, unforgivably wrong .Maybe Jake wouldn’t want to wear anything like a necklace. Maybe he liked his old things and wouldn’t even touch the new shit Tobias had bought him. And if he didn’t like them, if he hated everything, would Christmas be worth anything? Would Jake ever want to celebrate it with Tobias again?

His worries were interrupted when Jake shifted in his sleep, one arm curling over his head and rubbing at his ear, the other finding Tobias’s hip to tug him in. Jake muttered something unintelligible, then mashed his face into the pillow.

Tobias watched him, fascinated, and carefully laid his hand on Jake’s back. There was something wonderful about watching Jake move in his sleep, even if he still had a residual bit of nagging guilt, like he was stealing such a vulnerable and private moment. But Jake always smiled—a fucking beautiful , breathtaking smile—when he caught Tobias watching him.

So Tobias closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth of Jake’s back under his palm, and let himself fall back asleep.

When he next woke, it was to Jake’s hand moving slowly, leisurely through his hair, in the way Tobias liked best. A smile spread across his face before he opened his eyes to catch Jake’s.

“Merry Christmas.” Tobias tried not to feel self-conscious over how the words felt on his lips, but he was rewarded by Jake moving in close to kiss him, warm and sweet, the best present. But that thought reminded him of the rest of the presents under the tree, and all the nerves rushed back. As soon as they broke the kiss, he blurted, “When do we open the presents?”

Jake snorted, rolling onto his back. “Yeah, you’ve got Christmas all figured out.” Embarrassed, Tobias squirmed away, but Jake was already rolling out of bed. “We can hit the tree soon as we want, but I need coffee first. You want anything to eat?”

They ended up toasting a few bagels and settling before the tree with eggnog and coffee. Tobias was more nervous than ever, rocking slightly between the presents and Jake, anticipation and apprehension twisting his hands.

“Here.” Jake pushed one way-too-big gift bag toward him. “Open that one first.”

“You should open—” Tobias hesitated, a momentary agony of indecision, then finally seized his middle-sized present. “This one.It’s not very good. I mean, they’re not—”

“Dude. Just open your present.” Jake waved at the one in front of Tobias, already tearing off the top wrapping of his own. Tobias bit his lip, then made himself focus on the bag before him.

Despite Jake’s enthusiastic paper-shredding example, Tobias couldn’t help moving carefully, separating the layers of tissue paper and reaching cautiously into its depths until his fingers found and withdrew a few thin, plastic squares. The titles on the cases read Mozart and Beethoven .

“Keep going, there’s more,” Jake said, and Tobias looked up to see him watching closely, his hands stopped midway through the wrapping paper.

Tobias reached in again and pulled a large clear plastic case from the bottom, containing—a CD player, it said in large letters on top, though it took a long minute for Tobias’s brain to process what it meant. He looked slowly between the CD player and the three CDs, the third with Led Zeppelin IV on the case.

It was music. The music Tobias liked, and the ability to hear it, whenever he wanted.

Tobias was so long staring at them, absorbing the magnitude of the gift, that Jake’s cough startled him. Looking up, he found Jake leaning toward him, looking worried.

“It’s a bitch to find a decent Walkman these days, so I figured I’d get you what all the kids have now.” He nodded to the package in Toby’s hands. “You’ll have to build your own CD collection, but I thought I’d get you started—just the basics, I know it’s not—”

“Jake,” Tobias interrupted, “this is awesome .”

The relief that broke across his face twisted Tobias’s heart. Without thinking, he leaned forward, spilling presents to either side, to catch Jake’s jaw in his hand, and kissed him hard. It was meant to be quick, but Jake made a pleased sound and caught Tobias’s hand, holding him there. When they broke apart, Tobias stayed close, staring into Jake’s gleaming eyes. “You didn’t open my present yet,” he whispered.

Jake glanced down at it, and Tobias sat back, forcing his attention back to the CDs in their pristine packaging as Jake finished tearing off the paper. Tobias counted to ten, then let himself peek up.

Jake was closely examining the black plastic case, decorated with exclusive stickers of Jake Hawthorne–approved rock bands.

“I thought it could hold your cassettes,” Tobias said quickly. “See the indents—you have that shoebox now, but it’s not... neat, and they always get jumbled. I thought this might, but if it doesn’t—”

“Dude,” Jake said, holding the case up and grinning wide as he ever had. “Awesome.”

The next presents came easier. Tobias was delighted with the comic book encyclopedia, and Jake was thunderstruck by the boots, demanding to know when Tobias had hustled up the cash to get them. Tobias insisted he’d just gotten a good holiday sale.But Jake’s third gift to him, a curved knife inlaid with silver, almost brought Tobias to tears—not because of the knife itself, but the leather sheath with T. H . stamped into it.

Jake’s lips parted when he saw the compass necklace, and he held it up to his eye.”Holy shit,” he breathed.”Where did you get this?”

“Oh, you know, I just picked it up.” Tobias found himself risen anxiously to his knees, watching Jake’s initial reaction. “It’s okay?You like it? See, it’s got a magnet holding it together, so it’ll come apart if anyone grabs it—”

“ Like it? Toby, this is the most badass gift since the Eldorado.”

“Oh.”A warmth suffused Tobias, flushing down his face to his neck, and he sat back.

Jake tugged the cord over his neck, dropping the compass in front of his chest. The sight of it there did something funny to Tobias’s chest. It was hard to breathe, but nothing like a panic attack.

Then Jake leaned across to catch his chin with one hand, bringing him in for a kiss, just how Tobias had earlier. At last he broke the kiss, lips curved against Tobias’s as he breathed, “How’s that for a first Christmas?”

Tobias touched his forehead to Jake’s. “It was the best.” He looked around at the tree, the presents—his heart doing a double-step again at the sight of the compass on Jake’s chest. “But...” He hesitated, not sure he dared add anything to this perfect day.

“What’d we forget?” Jake raised his eyebrows. “Don’t think there’s enough white out there to build a snowman.”

“No.” Tobias paused before rushing ahead. “Christmas isn’t just about presents—it’s about family, right?”

Surprise wiped out everything else in Jake’s face, and apprehension flickered past, followed by wariness. “That’s what I hear on the Hallmark specials, yeah.”

“Well,” Tobias said, nails digging into his palms, but he’d already taken the plunge, “I think you should—why don’t you call Roger?”

Jake’s mouth actually fell open, and Tobias bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “That,” Jake said slowly, “is an awesome idea.”

Tobias relaxed, relieved, while Jake went to the bedroom to find his phone. When he came back and flipped it open, he paused.

“You wanna say hi too?”

“Oh,” Tobias said, startled. “If—you think he’d want to talk to me?”

“’Course he would,” Jake said and put the phone to his ear. “Hey old man, you didn’t get stuck down a chimney last night, did you?”

Whatever Roger’s response was made Jake snicker, then he said, “Hey, here’s Toby,” and held out the phone.

Roger heard Tobias’s soft voice, breathless, but without the level of nervousness from every time before. “Hi, Roger. Merry Christmas.”

Oh, balls . In that moment, Roger Harper realized that there was room enough left in his soldered-together heart for another messed-up kid alongside that smart-ass, reckless, and heartbreakingly passionate Jake Hawthorne.

“Hey, kid! Merry Christmas to you too. You making sure Jake spikes his eggnog with bourbon and not the other way around?”

Tobias laughed—the first time he’d laughed at something Roger had said—and told him about their tree, the carols and cookies, the nice woman who owned the bagel shop and had remembered them after all these months. Roger listened, slowly forming a picture of a real Christmas, the kind hunters and their families almost never got. The last time he’d gotten a call from any Hawthorne on Christmas, Leon had been bleeding from the head and three sheets to the wind.

After they said goodbye and hung up, Roger took a minute to stare at the receiver. He’d barely known Tobias for six months—they’d spent maybe a week together total.He’d known Jake almost his whole moron life. So where did he get the knuckleheaded sense that he’d fight and lie and cook and care just as much about Tobias as the fool he sometimes thought he’d half-raised?

That should have worried him more, made him quadruple-check the tests he’d run the first time Tobias crossed his threshold, wondering what he could have missed.But for once, he was willing to let it go, leave the work safely triple-checked.

Maybe the kid had a supernatural something that could work through even the most paranoid hunter’s shell, but Roger was willing to bet, just like Jake had so long ago, that it was just Tobias.