Page 19 of Make You Mine This Christmas (Holly Ridge #2)

Austin

As the day wears on, I notice Brody starting to lose some of his sparkle.

I don’t know anyone else can see it—the kids are still climbing off his lap smiling and laughing, thrilled with how Santa responded to what they want for Christmas.

But even if he hadn’t had my dick in his mouth eight hours ago, I would know something is off.

I shoot him a subtle thumbs up behind my body when we have an hour left before closing time, and he gives a smile and a small nod, before wincing at the head movement.

Migraine. I recognize the signs from when Mom would get them during her treatment.

I wonder what his triggers are. Stress? Not enough to eat?

Change in the weather? My stomach twists with the thought stress or food might be the cause now, as they could both be considered my fault.

I keep a close watch on him for the rest of the shift.

Are his eyes taking longer to open with each blink? I really might be losing it now.

The door closes behind the final family, and Brody tilts his head back against the chair and pulls his hat down over his eyes. I exchange a worried look with Jimmy and head over, putting my hand gently on his arm to try to not startle him.

“Hey, Austin,” he says, before I even say anything, his voice weary.

“How’d you know it was me?” I say, migraine temporarily forgotten.

“I’ve smelled like you all day.” His small smile calls me back to how he got that way. “The smell got stronger when you came over.” I match his smile, though it quickly turns into a frown when he grimaces again.

“Migraine, right? Let’s get moving so we can get you home.”

He sits up straight, trying to put on a game face. “No, we need to pitch in to cleanup. Friday tomorrow, means even more people than today.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone wants Santa to be in tip-top shape for a busy Friday.

” My eyes bounce around the room, and as expected, most everyone is listening in, before taking in his grey expression again.

“I’m pretty sure they’d want you to go home and get some rest.” I’m ready to plead with my eyes for support, but everyone’s nodding when I look back up.

Brody realizes all eyes are on us too. “Okay, but coffees are on me tomorrow.”

I smile as everyone does a silent cheer, not wanting to add noise and make things any worse.

“Let’s go, big guy.” I pull Brody to his feet and help him into his coat before grabbing mine. Our pace back to the gym is steady, until he stops still at the door.

“Everything okay?” I ask, looking back at his face scrunched up in pain.

“Building myself up to step into a fluorescent light hellscape.”

I pull my keys out of my pocket. “Go ahead and get in the car, suit and all. I’ll go grab our stuff and be out in a second.” He starts to protest. “We got those suits cleaned yesterday for a reason, right? Go.”

He takes the keys and smiles weakly before heading to the car. I hustle to grab our stuff, leaving the tights on but throwing on a sweatshirt, so I can make it even speedier.

Brody’s eyes are closed and his head is back against the seat when I climb into the Bronco. “Making it so if we get pulled over, we look like we just ran away from the North Pole?” he asks without opening his eyes.

“One should never cosplay and ride in a car alone.” I’m not sure how he knew I didn’t change fully, but not surprised either. He seems to be in tune with me in a way no one, except maybe Cole, ever has been.

“Let’s get you home,” I say, easing my SUV from the parking lot and praying for green lights and no bumps on the way.

* * *

“Go lay down, I’ll be right there,” I say once we get back to the apartment.

My eyes catch on the empty Christmas tree I definitely need to straighten before I go to bed tonight.

We still have plenty of time to decorate and enjoy it before Christmas.

Trimming can wait for another night. I hang both our coats up and head to the kitchen to grab an electrolyte packet, chocolate, and run a washcloth under some warm water.

Brody’s laying on his bed, Santa pants around his ankles with his feet on the floor. His coat is open, but still on his shoulders, and his arm thrown over his head.

“It’s a real doozy, isn’t it?” I lean down to undo his boots and slide them off as gently as I can.

“Yeah, I haven’t had one this bad in a couple of months. They’re mostly controlled with medicine, but sometimes a perfect storm brings one on.” His voice is mumbled behind his sleeve.

“Is it okay if I take your pants the rest of the way off?” I ask, unable to keep the humor out of my voice.

“Not how I pictured you asking that question,” he groans, lifting his feet slightly to help me free them from the pants before we swing his legs back up onto the mattress.

“I brought you a few things. Do you have medicine to take once they start?”

He eases his way into sitting, his eyes still closed against the ceiling light he must have turned on out of habit. I reach over to the wall and flick it off, letting the light from the hallway and the inflatable through the window closest to the balcony filter through.

“Yeah, it’s in my toiletry bag on the dresser.” With his jacket finally removed, he hunches over with his head in his hands, fingers massaging his temples.

I take his words as an invitation to go through his things and unzip the bag to find four orange bottles.

The first I pick up is his PrEP prescription, information I tuck away for later.

The second bottle has a prescription name I don’t recognize.

The third label reads Xanax, so I grab the fourth bottle once I see it’s another name I don’t know, figuring one of these two has to be the winner.

“Here—I’m not sure which one you need.” Brody picks his head up, his eyes open only the slightest amount until it sinks in the room is dark. He grabs both bottles, uncapping one.

“This’ll do it, though it’s going to knock me out, too.” He puts the pill in his mouth, then looks around in panic.

“Oh, I got you.” I pick the electrolyte drink up off the floor where I put it when I came in, twisting the cap off and handing it to him. He takes a deliberate swallow and then drains most of the rest of the bottle without taking another breath.

“Thanks, that should help it along.” He starts to burrow himself in bed, and I stand awkwardly, not sure what to do with myself.

“I, uh, grabbed you some chocolate too. It helped my mom when she got migraines during treatment—some mixture of caffeine and a natural chocolate high, I think.” I hold out the miniature bars in Christmas-themed paper, and he cups them in his hand.

“I’ll never turn down chocolate,” he says, propping his head up slightly on his pillows. “Thanks for getting me back here in one piece—it can be a nightmare to navigate the simplest things on your own when the pain’s really taken hold.”

“Of course, I wish I could do more,” I say, settling myself next to his feet on the bed.

“I have about five more minutes before these meds knock me out for the next ten to twelve hours. So, if there’s anything you want to say to me, I may or may not remember it in the morning, now’s the time.”

The light from the hallway reflects in his eyes, their seriousness a mismatch from the lightness of his tone.

“Ilikedwhathappenedthismorning,” I say, all in a rush. A lot of effort had gone into not dwelling on Brody draining my cock in the shower this morning while we were around kids and families all day. “I might like it to happen again.”

A pleased smile breaks onto Brody’s face. “I know I’d like for it to happen again. You know, orgasms are a scientifically proven method of relieving headache pain.”

I squeeze his foot before standing to hover over him. “I think a less than five-minute window before you’re unconscious puts you out of commission. Sleep, Brody. We’ve got time.”

I lean down and brush a kiss along his forehead, watching as his eyes flutter closed and stay closed.

“Night,” I say softly, standing up straight and watching him lie there peacefully.

“Night,” he murmurs, before his breathing evens out and the medicine takes him under.

After gathering the pieces of his suit from the floor and hanging them in the closet, I walk out of the room and shut the door softly behind me. I think about what I said to Brody.

We’ve got time. Am I lying to myself, and even worse, to him?

* * *

The next morning I’m up at a much more normal time, in part because I didn’t sleep well.

My mind raced with thoughts of the man across the hall.

How it felt when he touched me. How badly I want him to do it again and touch him in return.

But by not putting a stop to this, am I setting us up for a world of hurt when he eventually goes back to New York?

Well, Stamford. But the point being, not here.

When I decide I can’t stare at the ceiling any longer, I get up and head to the kitchen, managing to avoid the creaky floorboard.

It’s only been about nine hours since Brody fell asleep, and I don’t want to interrupt his recovery.

I stare into the fridge, trying to decide what sounds appetizing for breakfast. The urge I have isn’t to eat, but to untangle this Brody mess in my head.

Right on cue, my phone pings with a text from Cole checking to see if we’re still on for dinner on Sunday. What’s the point of having a best friend who never sleeps if you can’t show up at their front door with all your problems?

“Austin?” Cole answers my call after the first ring, his voice concerned.

“If I bring coffee and pastries, can I crash your morning routine?”

“Even without coffee and pastries. You bring that cute ass over here with the gossip you’ve been denying me, and you’ve got a deal,” he responds, and I hear Blaire laugh in the background.

“You’ve been living in Holly Ridge for too long, my man,” I say. “See you within the hour?”

“See you then.”