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CHAPTER ONE

ELLIOT

“ M erry Christmas, family!” I call out as I jog down the stairs dressed in the red plaid pajamas my mom left in my room last night.

The whole house smells like cinnamon, Christmas music is playing from the speaker in the kitchen, and a glance out the window has me smiling wide.

Snow is coming down in soft flakes, the front yard of my parents’ house and the street I grew up on an undisturbed blanket of white.

I love snow. Christmas. Winter. All of it.

Wandering into the kitchen, I grin wider at the scene.

Christmas mugs are lined up on the counter by the coffee pot, a tiny tabletop tree covered in food-themed ornaments sits on the wide granite island, and the knobs on the green cabinets have been switched out to ones shaped like candy canes.

My dad is standing at the stove, spatula in hand and dish towel tossed over his shoulder.

My mom is bent over, peering into the oven.

Both of them are dressed in pajamas that match mine.

The Christmas tree shines through the living room doorway, covered in a chaotic mess of multi-colored lights and the ornaments from our childhood my mom safeguards like they’re the Hope Diamond.

Everything about this scene means home. Family. Holidays. My favorite things.

“Merry Christmas, my baby.” My mom stands and comes over to me, leaning up to kiss my cheek and wrap me in a hug. “How’d you sleep?”

I bend to kiss the top of her head and grimace a little, rolling my shoulders. “You really should let me replace the mattress in my bedroom. And where’s my dog?”

She steps back and crosses her arms, looking at me through her red-framed glasses.

“Killer is currently buried under the blankets in my bed fast asleep even though I specifically told her that we do not sleep on the beds in my house and I bought her a dog bed specifically so she wouldn’t jump on my bed and tear apart the pillows.

And if I let you replace the mattress, then it won’t be your childhood room anymore, and you know how I feel about nostalgia. ”

I laugh because my mom loves my weird, tiny dog, and I’m one hundred percent sure she carried Killer right to her bed herself.

“I do know that, which is why I slept on that crappy double mattress in my childhood bedroom last night instead of the very comfortable mattress I have, like, eight miles from this house in my very own home.”

My very own home being the Back Bay brownstone my brothers and I inherited from our grandfather when he died. It was broken up into five apartments decades ago, and we each have one. The only stipulation of our inheritance was that we leave the fifth one vacant until Cece decides to fill it.

My family is…interesting, in a weird, loving, you have to be in it to understand it kind of way. Which is why when my mom summons all of us to sleep at our childhood home, we do it without complaining. Well, without too much complaining. I really do hate that mattress.

My mom gives me a look so condescending I can’t help but grin. “We appreciate your sacrifice. You know how I like my entire family to wake up under one roof on Christmas morning.”

“I do, and if I promise to leave up the twenty-year-old Bruins poster with the torn edges and my old hockey trophies, can I buy a new mattress?”

“You played hockey?”

I turn towards the stairs and smile when I see Jo, my oldest brother, Jordan’s, girlfriend, walking down with Jordan behind her, both of them clad in our family pajamas. They have sleepy eyes and satisfied smiles, leaving no question as to what they’ve been up to already this morning.

The pang of jealousy is swift, my mind immediately filling with the image that’s been a fixture of my memories for the past six months. Green and gold flecked eyes. Tumbled brown hair. A raspy voice. A smile that lit up her whole face.

Amelia.

I shake it off, forcing a smile onto my face.

“You know it, Jo Jo.” I meet her at the bottom of the stairs and wrap her in a hug. “Welcome to your first Wyles Christmas.”

When we break apart, her eyes are sparkling with fun. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Now, El, tell me everything. What position did you play? Did you fight? Did you ever lose any teeth? Hockey players fighting is so hot. Not the teeth thing so much, but all the fists flying? Delicious.”

I snicker as Jordan wraps an arm around Jo’s shoulders from behind and tugs her back against his chest. “Hey now, Hurricane. I’m the only Wyles brother you’re supposed to think is delicious.”

The affection and love shining in his eyes when he looks down at her has unexpected emotion rising in my chest. A couple of years ago, Jordan’s fiancée, Allie, died, and there have been times over the last two years when I didn’t think I would ever see Jordan happy again.

So, to see him settled down and wildly in love for the second time in his life settles something in me too, even as I wonder whether that same thing is out there for me.

If maybe I found it but lost it before I had a chance to see what it could be.

No one in my life would believe it if I told them, but my brain can be a dark and twisty place sometimes.

Jo settles back against Jordan. “J, you know you’re the only man for me, but Elliot is a tall, insanely attractive guy who used to play hockey. I’m pretty sure I’ve read that book.”

I chuckle, leaning forward and kissing Jo’s cheek before wandering to the coffee pot. “Sorry to disappoint, Jo Jo, but I stopped playing in high school and never got into a single fight.”

“Could have gone all the way,” my dad says, handing me one of the Christmas mugs from the counter and the milk then tossing an arm around my shoulders in a side hug.

“You could have?” Jo asks, her incredulous voice making me laugh.

“Fuck no, he couldn’t have.” My brother Noah’s amused voice comes from the direction of the living room.

I glance through the door and see him lying on one of the couches under a pile of blankets, his eyes half closed.

He’s an oral surgery resident and was on call last night, so he probably only got here a couple of hours ago.

“Ignore my dad,” my youngest brother Cooper says, sauntering down the stairs. “He’s always felt a little salty that none of us followed in his athletic footsteps.”

“What athletic footsteps?” Jo asks, her gaze ping-ponging around the kitchen.

“College hockey, University of Boston. Two-time Frozen Four champions. Drafted to the Bruins but I blew out my knee before my rookie season.” I laugh at how my dad puffs out his chest a little the way he always does when he talks about his hockey glory days.

“Hold up,” Jo says, breaking away from Jordan and looking at my dad. “You’re telling me that you almost played professional hockey?” She turns to Jordan, Cooper, and me. “And not one single one of you very tall, extremely attractive, and well-built men followed in his footsteps?”

“Jo Jo, do you have an athlete kink I don’t know about?” Jordan tries to look stern, but he has humor dancing in his eyes.

“Every woman has an athlete kink, J. It’s like, the law or something. I don’t make the rules.”

My dad snickers and picks up his coffee mug from the counter, coming over to kiss Jo on the cheek, winking at me. “A travesty, isn’t it? Elliot had the most raw talent, but he bowed out in high school to focus on his love affair with computers instead.”

I know my dad is joking, and he never tried to force something on us that we didn’t want, but it still stings a little.

I did love computers, but I loved hockey too, and I would have kept playing but I had anxiety that made playing such an intense, high-speed sport basically my worst nightmare.

Watching it? Absolutely yes. Playing? Pass.

I roll my eyes. “Oh, yes, I’m such a disappointment, getting my PhD in computer science at the age of twenty-six and being the youngest tenured professor in the entire history of MassTech.”

My mom tosses her oven mitts on the counter and pats my cheek. “Elliot, honey, you could never be a disappointment to me.”

I toss an arm around my mom’s shoulder. “We don’t deserve you, Pamela Wyles.”

She laughs. “You sure don’t, but here I am anyway, and don’t we all look fantastic and festive,” she says, her voice bright as she glances around the kitchen. “Noah, honey, get in here; I’m having a moment and you’re missing it.”

A crash from the living room that sounds a whole lot like a body falling off the couch followed by Noah’s “Ow, shit,” has us all laughing. “More coffee,” he grumbles, shuffling into the kitchen wrapped in a blanket, his hair sticking up in a million directions and his eyes red-rimmed.

“Rough one last night?” I ask, reaching for a mug and pouring his coffee, adding the weird Christmas creamer he likes. Noah takes the mug from me, downing the hot liquid like it’s water and he’s been walking in the desert for a year.

He nods, looking a little more alive as the caffeine hits his system. “Car accident victim. Shattered jaw. It was a whole thing.”

“You love it.” Noah is mostly the human equivalent of a puppy dog in his daily life, but he’s wanted to be an oral surgeon since he was a teenager and is fiercely dedicated to it.

He grins at me. “You know it.”

“There’s my guy.” My mom comes over and hooks her arm though Noah’s. “So glad you’ve come to join the living.”

Noah kisses the top of her head and takes another sip of his coffee. “As if I could sleep through a Pam Wyles Christmas.”

“I do run an excellent Christmas, and I’m just so happy to have you all here.” She glances around, her eyes misty as she takes everyone in, her gaze resting on Jordan for an extra second.