Page 72 of Grumpmas

I had to take a quick stroll over to my parent’s house. I had promised to check in on their property when I had the chance as a favor to keep them stress-free while on vacation, and I didn’t mind stopping by before work. I made the chore a part of my routine in my busy schedule, but today, the quick stop had slipped my mind.

I had forgotten. Too much Jack Timber on my mind. A man who needed to reveal what the hell he had been up to the last few days.

Jack owed me an explanation, but I feared the outcome. Avoidance was key while I yearned for his closeness, and the need to have him near screwed with me. Our time apart should bring me relief, but all I experienced was torture—punishment from the unknown and unwanted thoughts reeling in my head.

Hurriedly, I walked down the street and tried not to peek at Jack’s place. I couldn’t help myself when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye at the window. The slight shove of the blind as I saw a wet nose pressed up against the glass.

Chip stared at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and he fogged up the window. A giggle escaped me, and I waved at the furry animal. I missed his obnoxious, lovable, slobbery kisses.

My heart leaped into my throat, beating rapidly, while I waited for any sign of Jack. I swallowed the lump when I didn’t see him and continued down the sidewalk to my parent’s house.

Their home was a pretty place with gorgeous gardens in the summer and not a single decoration hung during Christmastime. I loved living in my childhood home but hated thebah, humbugspirit, which was the reason I celebrated year after year. My parents had never believed in celebrating Christmas traditions, so I had made them my own. I had embraced the cheerfulness and made sure I raised my daughter to love the holiday season too.

Fond memories rushed through me as I wandered up the driveway I used to pedal my bike down with excitement and ride through the neighborhood. The front step I’d siton while I listened to the greatest hits on the radio and do homework in my lap. Throughout the winter months, I built huge snowmen and made an army on the front lawn, giving them eyes of coal. I’d take my dad’s top hats and my mom’s scarves while I decorated them in the snow. Carrot noses, licorice smiles, and twigs for arms. Until the sunshine came and I’d built them anew.

Immediately, I stopped at the front door with the key in hand and stared at the ajar door.Oh my God.Someone was in my parents’ house.

Adrenaline rushed through my body as I contemplated my next important steps. I should turn back and call the cops, but the robbers might escape. I could open the door, announce myself, and scare the intruder away. Or I could go in there, grab a huge frying pan, and knock the asshole out.

The safest option would be to leave, let the motherfuckers take what they wanted, and my parents could claim everything on their insurance.Do I listen to reason?No.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, and the sound made me want to flee. But I was already inside, hurrying across the modern tile. Screw my wet boots making a mess on the floor as I tiptoed in further and pressed my back up against a wall. I crept toward a corner to peek around the kitchen and saw no signs of anyone. Not a creature stirred, only this quiet mouse.

The frying pan idea was brilliant, so I quickly made my way toward a cabinet to grab one. I raised the pan up high, ready to defend myself and teach whoever had broken the law a hard lesson never to do it again. I’d whack anyone toprotect the house I had grown up in and had promised to take care of.

Suddenly, there was a shuffle of feet to my right, and I turned toward the sound. I listened intently, hairs rose on my arms, and goosebumps came to life. The noise stopped. The disturbance was behind the door leading into the den.

One step. Two steps. Three. I inch silently toward the door, frying pan over my shoulder, clenching the handle and preparing to swing.

I had no other thoughts on my mind as I locked my gaze on the doorknob and watched it turn. My eyes widened in fear, air got trapped in my lungs as I held my breath and listened to my heart beating wildly in my eardrums. The door flung open, and I didn’t hold back.

I released a shrill scream as loud as a wild banshee and swung the pan like I had never hit a baseball with a bat in my life. Far too hard and way too wide. The asshole who broke in ducked out of the way before I hit him, and I missed my mark.

My body went into a tailspin, and I fell into a nosedive. I lost my grip on the frying pan while the floor inched closer, and I closed my eyes awaiting impact, but firm hands grabbed me. The intruder saved me from smacking my face on the floor.

“Please don’t hurt me.” I squeezed my eyes shut and pleaded for my life. “I... I was cooking.”

“Cooking?”

I cracked an eye open. Everything spun. My vision blurred as I saw brown hair falling down over eyes filled with concern. A woodsy scent made me dizzy.

Nah, I was lightheaded. I saw two men.

I screamed, thrashed, and tried to get away, but I couldn’t. The intruder had me trapped in their arms and held me on the floor.

The person shook me. “Elle! It’s okay. It’s me, Jack.”

I quieted. The shaking stopped, and I went rigid while clenching a shirt. A green and black plaid patterned shirt, soft as flannel, and I remembered how cozy it had been while I had worn it.

“Jack?” I questioned.

The dizziness lessened until my sight came to a standstill, and Jack peered down at me. Puzzlement etched across his gorgeous features, and I reached up to brush his hair back. The fight in me subsided, my guard went down, and I let him inside.

“Yeah. It’s me,” Jack replied as he brushed loose strands of hair away from my face.

I caught his hand.

“Wait.” I scrambled out of his embrace. “What are you doing in my parents’ house?”