Page 26

Chapter

Twenty-Five

BLACK CHRISTMAS

Madden

Past

“With him by my side, every day feels like a holiday.” — W

I sit at the counter of the O’ Sullivan’s bakery, the warm scent of freshly baked treats enveloping me like a mother’s hug. Not that I would know.

The walls are painted in various shades of blue and green, each one a canvas of drawings. Some of them are polished and precise, no doubt the work of Mrs. O’Sullivan. Others are a bit rougher around the edges, sillier and more whimsical. I can tell they’re Willow’s.

As I sit here, I can’t help but feel a sense of comfort wash over me as I watch Mrs. O'Sullivan and Willow in their element. They love gardening, but they love baking, too. And the way they dance around the kitchen, their laughter filling the bakery like music— it’s clear they’ve found something that makes them happy. Their happiness is real.

At first, I found their cheery energy annoying. I couldn’t understand how someone could be that happy all the time. But now, I see it’s genuine. They don’t pretend. Their happiness is like a light that shines from within, and damn it if it isn’t contagious.

I watch their backs as they ice a batch of cupcakes, Willow laughing as her mom gently bops her nose with a smear of green frosting. A small smile tugs at my lips. Their energy—this rare warmth—feels like home.

I used to wonder what it was like to have a family who cared for you, who protected you. But now, with them, I don’t wonder anymore. In the short time I’ve spent with the O’Sullivan’s, they’ve managed to creep into my heart.

Not that I’d ever tell them that. I’ve learned not to get too comfortable, not to let myself feel. I know that when kids like me start to feel happy, life has a cruel way of reminding you how fleeting it is.

But deep down, despite the fear that lingers, I feel it. I do feel happy— happy and safe.

Then, as if to prove me wrong, the sweet atmosphere shifts.

A shadow falls over my safe haven, and my heart stops cold.

Someone sits down beside me.

The disgusting smell of hard liquor and cigarettes makes me glance sideways, and my stomach drops.

No. Not here. Not now.

How did he find me?

It’s Milton. My brother.

His eyes are dark, filled with a quiet rage that sends an icy shiver down my spine. I freeze, the instinct to protect Mrs. O'Sullivan and Willow rising sharply in my chest. Nothing can happen to them. Not because of me. Never because of me. Fear grips me as I realize I can’t let him see just how much they mean to me.

Milton sneers, his thin lips twisting into a cruel and vindictive smile. “So, you think you got out, huh?” His laugh is sharp and mocking, cutting through the warmth of the bakery like a knife.

I don’t answer, my heart pounding as he leans in closer. His voice drops to a whisper, thick with venom. “Why do you get to have a nice life when you ruined mine, you little fuck?”

The anger inside me surges, but I swallow it down. My fists clench. I don’t want Mrs. O’Sullivan and Willow to turn around and see my brother. I don’t want my messed-up life touching them. The only thing that comforts me is that Mr. O’Sullivan is just outside— and he’s much scarier than Milton is.

“Leave,” I manage to say, the words steady despite the fear crawling under my skin. “Before Mr. O'Sullivan comes.”

My brother laughs again, a hollow, mocking sound. “I’ll see you around, kid. And I’ll be seeing that pretty bitch and her brat too.”

With that, he stands up, his presence lingering like a torturous nightmare as he saunters out of the bakery. The door chimes behind him, but thankfully both mother and daughter are oblivious to what just happened. Good.

With my heart in my throat, I turn back to Mrs. O'Sullivan and Willow, forcing a smile as they continue baking their cupcakes, but the knot in my stomach tightens. The safety I felt just moments ago is gone, replaced by the crippling fear that Milton will make good on his promise and hurt the two people I’ve come to care for.

I need to protect them. No matter what. I won’t let my brother ruin this.

Ruin them.