Page 32 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

Last Christmas

Anthony

Devil Recordsis buzzing with the usual holiday cheer.

In Jen’s case, holiday cheer sounds suspiciously like groaning disdain.

She leans dramatically against the counter, rubbing her temples as if the endless stream of Christmas music has physically wounded her.

“If I hear Mariah Carey one more time, I swear I’m quitting. ”

Chance laughs from where he’s shelving new arrivals. “But, Jen,” he says, clearing his throat before launching into a surprisingly decent soprano, “It’s tiiiiiime!”

“Not cute, Sullivan,” she huffs.

I’m doubled over, nearly in tears from laughing.

She complains relentlessly every year. Normally, we have the record player hooked up to the store speakers, but during the holidays, Frank and Kathy insist on running a computer playlist instead. I’m pretty sure they do it on purpose just to fuck with her.

The store speakers crackle, and the familiar synth notes of “Last Christmas”by Wham fill the air. Jen perks up slightly, glancing at me. “Alright, this one always and forever gets a pass,” she concedes.

I’m at the register ringing up a customer, and I start to hum along.

When the first chorus hits, Jen’s already singing full-voiced, and Chance joins in with pure confidence.

His smooth, rich tone blends effortlessly with the music, and I pause mid-scan to look up.

Jen and I catch each other’s eyes, both of us silently acknowledging what we’re hearing.

Seriously? How dare he. You can’t just go around looking like that and have the audacity to sing with the voice of an angel.

The tug to join in becomes irresistible, and soon the three of us are belting out the lyrics with shameless gusto, completely losing ourselves in the moment. Even the customer smiles, whistling along as they take their bag and exit the store.

After the song ends, we’re all laughing and slightly out of breath.

Chance throws his arms wide. “I don’t care what anyone says, that’s the best Christmas song ever.”

Jen nods in agreement. “Facts.”

“Absolutely,” I add, smiling. “You can’t beat it.”

“And Chance, what the fuck?” Jen says, pointing at him, “You’re not allowed to look like that and have a beautiful voice. You’re walking proof that life isn’t fair.”

Someone had to say it.

Chance grins, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re just jealous I hit that high note better than you.”

Jen gasps, clutching her chest theatrically. “I am not jealous. I’m in awe, there’s a difference.”

I shake my head, a smile reaching my eyes as I watch them bicker.

Frank and Kathy come up from the back, their faces lit with smiles. “Glad to see the holiday spirit is alive and well in here,” Frank says, warmly. Kathy steps forward and motions for all of us to gather.

“We just wanted to take a moment,” Kathy begins, her voice thick with emotion.

“To thank you all for being such a fantastic team. You make this place more than a record store—you make it a family. And Chance,” she turns to him, “you’ve fit in like you’ve been here forever. We’re so happy to have you.”

Jen crosses her arms, her mouth twitching. “He’s alright. I guess we’ll keep him.”

Frank laughs as Kathy hands out envelopes. “It’s not a lot,” she says, “but we wanted to say thank you for everything you do. You truly are family to us.”

I open mine to find a bonus, and it’s all I can do not to get choked up. I peek over at Chance, who’s smiling softly, and Jen, who’s already cracking jokes about spending it all on sex toys. The moment is perfect, really.

Just then, a group of guys I recognize from the baseball team come into the store.

One of them—Bryson—has a thing for Jen. He comes in occasionally and throws the cheesiest lines at her.

He also insists on calling her Jenny, which she hates.

He’s got a reputation with the girls on campus as a bad lay, and Butters told me he’s hung like a light switch.

How he knows that… I don’t want to know.

“Hey gorgeous,” Bryson says as his crew walks past the front entrance. He stops and leans against the check-out counter. “Are you Christmas morning? Because I’ve been waiting all year for you.”

Jen smirks. “Is that right?”

“It is indeed,” Bryson quips back. “In fact, I’m on Santa’s nice list, and I told him the only thing I want this year is Jenny’s number.”

Jen giggles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

This should be good.

She moves closer to the counter, runs her finger over the edge, and says, “Take out your phone. Your Christmas wish is about to come true.”

Bryson pulls his phone out of his back pocket with lightning speed, unlocks it, and looks at her with puppy dog eyes. I almost feel bad for him.

“You ready?” Jen says sweetly.

He nods aggressively. “Yep.”

“Okay,” Jen says as she rests her elbows on the counter and looks at his screen. “My number is 867-5309.”

Bryson looks up.

For a second, I think he caught it—

“Is it the local area code?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t know.

“Sure is,” Jen says with a wink.

Bryson beams. “Okay, great. What’s your last name? I’ll add it to the contact.”

Jen hums. “Mm no last names yet, Romeo. Just put Jenny as my last name too.”

Bryson looks up, puzzled. “So, Jenny Jenny?”

Jen nods

Jesus Christ

“Great. I’ll text you later,” Bryson says and struts over to his friends like he just hit a grand slam.

“You’re diabolical,” I tell her when he’s out of earshot.

She scoffs. “Hey, if he doesn’t know the song, he never stood a chance.”

“Let’s be real, Jenny —he never stood a chance anyway.”

She shoves me, laughing. “True.”

Later, as the store quiets, Jen sidles up to me with a sly smile. “Your special delivery came in,” she says, her voice low.

My pulse kicks with excitement. “Really?”

“Yep.” She glances across the shop at Chance, then back at me. “I see you, Anthony.”

Heat crawls up my neck. “It’s nothing,” I mutter.

“Mmhmm,” she says, her smirk growing. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Chance walks up to join us, and Jen shifts her attention. “What are you boys doing for Christmas? As you know, I’ll be skiing with my cousins, so don’t do anything fun without me.”

“Well,” Chance says, his grin crooked, “I’m a lucky bastard. Ant’s cooking another feast, and we’re going to watch Christmas movies.”

Jen raises an eyebrow. “Cozy,” she says, drawing the word out.

Near the end of the night, I hand Jen her holiday present—a small box wrapped in silver paper.

Jen’s Jewish, but she likes doing the one gift with me right before Christmas.

She opens it and gasps softly. Inside is a necklace with a silver pendant shaped like a vinyl record, engraved with the words That’s What Friends Are For .

Her eyes shimmer as she hugs me tightly. “This is so special,” she whispers. “Thank you, you big sappy-sap. But if you tell anyone I love that song, those will be the last words you speak.”

I laugh. “Happy Holidays, Jen.”

She pulls a bag from behind the counter and shoves it into my hands. “Your turn.”

I open it to find a framed photo of the two of us, the frame etched with Besties , and a gift certificate to Visconti, my favorite restaurant.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re not the only sappy-sap around here. By the way, that gift certificate is enough for two people.”

I snicker. “We’ll go when you’re back from skiing.”

She grins devilishly. “I wasn’t talking about me.” She nudges her chin in Chance’s direction, and I feel my face heat.

“Oh. Um, maybe,” I stammer.

“Mmhmm,” she hums.

When the last customer leaves, I flip the sign to Closed and lock the door behind them. Jen waves from where she’s pulling on her jacket. “You boys still good with closing-up shop? I’ve got cousins to terrorize and a suitcase to pack.”

“Yeah, we’ve got it,” Chance says, shooting her a wink. “Enjoy the slopes, use protection.”

Jen rolls her eyes but smiles as she heads out. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone,” she teases as I wait to let her out and relock the door behind her.

With just the two of us left, Chance and I finish tidying up the store. He hums bits of“Last Christmas”as he straightens stray records. It makes me laugh and shake my head at how infectious his energy is.

By the time we’ve turned off the lights and locked the door behind us, stepping out onto Mill Ave., I feel lighter—freer than I’ve felt in years.

Chance stretches his arms over his head, the motion exposing a sliver of skin beneath the long sleeve shirt under his leather jacket.

“Hey, so,” he says, letting his arms drop casually, “I texted Lexi, and she’s taking Little G out for us.

I haven’t had a chance to really check out Mill Avenue at night yet, but I love how lit up it is for Christmas.

Thought maybe you could show me around?”

His blue eyes catch the glint of the string lights overhead, softening as he grins. “What do ya say, Beautiful? Wanna give me the tour?” Chance asks. He looks too good in that jacket, the cool December air making his cheeks pink.

I grin and gesture downward from the shop. “I’d love to show you around. Let’s head this way first. There’s a vendor with goodies to keep us warm while we walk. I think you’ll like it.”

We walk side by side, the bustle of the merchant-lined street adding to the festive atmosphere. Strings of lights hang from the trees, twinkling like stars, and street performers fill the air with lively music. I glance over at Chance, who’s taking it all in.

“This is… kind of amazing,” he admits, his voice soft. “We always went to the city for the Christmas street experience. That was fun, but it was big and bustling. Chaotic. This is…”

“Cozier?” I offer, watching him take another look around.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” he says with a warm smile, his voice carrying a note of contentment.

We stop by my favorite winter vendor—a small cart tucked into a corner that sells roasted nuts and gourmet hot chocolate.

I order us both a cup, and while we wait, the vendor hands me a small paper bag of warm, freshly roasted nuts.

The scent alone is intoxicating, the perfect mix of sweet and salty.

I hold the bag close to my chest to keep the heat in as we start walking again.

Chance nudges me with his elbow, his grin teasing. “So, do I get to taste your nuts?”

I laugh so hard I almost spill the bag.

“You’re ridiculous,” I say, shaking my head, but inside, I’m warm in a way that has nothing to do with the roasted nuts or the hot chocolate. I realize I’m getting more comfortable with his constant flirting, even looking forward to it. It feels… nice.

As we stroll, Chance peers over at me. “Are you going to tell me what’s on the menu for Christmas dinner, Chef Pacini?”

I smirk, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. “That’s a surprise.”

He groans dramatically. “Come on, give me a hint. Is it lasagna again? Because if it is, I’ll be the happiest man alive.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” I say, enjoying his playful frustration. “But I promise it’ll be good.”

“Everything you make is drool-worthy,” he says sincerely. “But honestly,” he adds, his voice softer, “this is the first time since I was a kid that I’m actually looking forward to Christmas.”

I glance at him, surprised. “Same here. It’s been a long time since I’ve been excited for it.”

We walk in comfortable silence for a while, the street alive around us. For the first time in years, I feel like the holiday isn’t something I have to get through—it’s something I can enjoy. And with Chance beside me, it feels like something I can hold on to.