Broken Holidays: A Broken Series Novella (The Broken Series) Read online

  I tilted my head, squinting at the clock on the nightstand as my contacts swam in my still tired eyes. “Fuck,” I groaned softly, realizing I had to hurry. I slipped out from under the girls, apologizing when they whined, and snatched up clothing as I headed toward the bathroom. Now, I was going to add being late to the list of reasons I shouldn’t go out on a work night.

  The one thing I had to look forward to was the fact that it was Christmas Eve. Tonight, I would get Conner. When we set up the custody paperwork, we agreed to trade off holidays. He spent Thanksgiving with Lizzie, so for Christmas Eve, I would pick him up and he would stay the night with me. That meant this year, the first year we weren’t all together, I would be the lucky parent who got to see his face when he woke on Christmas morning. I still held entirely too much bitterness inside of me toward Lizzie and Adam to share Christmas morning with them, but I knew that’s what she wanted. She’d been asking me for the last week if I would just come there for Christmas morning so everyone could be together. It wasn’t happening. Not yet. The last time Adam and I were in the same room together, I’d walked in on him with his dick inside my wife. That had very nearly escalated to violence and I wasn’t looking to fight. Not with him, or Lizzie. As it stood, he hadn’t contacted me at all, but the fact that the paternity results had showed Conner wasn’t mine, I knew it was a waiting game. At any time, Adam could decide to end my time with my son and I’d have to fight with everything I had to make sure I didn’t lose him.

  Conner was the only good thing I had left in this shitfest I called a life.

  Once I was dressed, I said a quick goodbye to Tabitha and Jessie. I was surprised at their offer to join them again sometime and even more shocked by the fact that I wanted to. Usually, I was a one and done kind of guy, but something about these two, the possibilities I could see, made it a tempting idea to keep coming back for more.

  It took more coffee than most people drink in a lifetime to keep my eyes open and my mind focused on work. Jackson and I responded to numerous calls from the area stores and malls, injuries from falls and fights over last minute gift items. I hated that the holidays had become so commercialized, where people seemed to lose all sense of benevolence and turned into nothing more than greedy assholes. Even as the day ended, we had two more days of this before we’d get a brief reprise. Christmas Day shoppers and the ones looking for bargains the day after would be just as bad. Then, New Year’s always brought out the drunken idiots.

  After my shift, I headed home to shower and change clothes, making sure all of Conner’s presents were safely stashed away in either Tish’s closet or the garage before heading to Lizzie’s to pick him up. It was still weird to think of the house as Lizzie’s, but I’d given it up, signed the papers over to her in the divorce because she wanted Conner to stay in the home he knew. I was still paying half the mortgage for at least another eighteen months as part of my alimony, but the house was hers.

  Pulling up in the drive, my stomach knotted when I saw Adam’s car. “Mother fuck,” I whispered, clenching and unclenching my hands a few times as I sat in the driver’s seat. I had to face this, as much as I didn’t want to, and now was as good a time as any.

  As I walked up the steps to the front door, I popped my neck, hoping to ease some of the tension I already felt. Go in, get Conner, and leave. That was it. That was all I had to do. I had no reason to speak to Adam or acknowledge his presence in the slightest. Go in, get Conner, and leave.

  I rang the doorbell, listening for footsteps. I cursed under my breath when I heard heavier footfalls heading over the tile of the entryway.

  The surge of pain and resentment I felt the second Adam’s face came into view, surprised me. Anger, I expected. Anger was easy to justify. I didn’t want to dig deeper into the emotions right now.

  Adam stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him before I could find my voice. I took two steps back, keeping space between us in hopes of holding on to my temper.

  “Look, I—”

  “Don’t,” I snapped, not wanting to hear a word of what he had to say. It didn’t matter. “I came to pick up my son.”

  “I know, but I want you to think about Conner. Don’t you think he deserves to have his parents together on Christmas? Come on, man, we’ve spent Christmas Eve together every year since our parents died. You’re mad and you hate me now. I get that. I deserve it. But we have a lot of history and so do you and Lizzie. I’ve stayed out of it, left you alone to deal with things and calm down, but it’s been months.”

  I just stared at him, trying not to let his words seep past the wall I’d put in place when I caught them together. Just that reminder helped me cling to my anger. “So, how does it work? You want me to think about Conner and work things out with you and Lizzie because we have history? I’m supposed to come inside, hang out, and pretend that it’s totally normal for a man to walk in and catch his best friend balls deep in his wife?”

  Adam’s head dropped. The shame he was emanating nearly choked me. I felt my anger slipping as Adam’s jaw worked. He was obviously trying to find words. The worst part in all of this, in finding them together, in figuring out the depth of their betrayal, in seeing the negative test results on Conner’s paternity test, was my own sense of guilt. I wasn’t sure exactly when the affair started and honestly, it didn’t matter. It was long enough that the son I spent two years raising was actually his. I assumed, anyway. I’d never actually asked. None of it really mattered. In the end, it all came down to punishment for the mistakes I’d made. If Adam knew I was responsible for what happened to his family, if he had even an inkling, he wouldn’t have a bit of guilt for what he’d done. I deserved this and so much worse.

  The door opened again and the blonde head of my son poked out. His eyes brightened and his chubby limbs flailed as he rushed toward me. “Daddy!” I swung him up into my arms, everything else disappearing at his smile. Most mornings, the only reason I kept going was that face.

  “I missed you, buddy,” I said, hugging him tight as he wrapped his little arms around my neck. Lizzie was standing in the doorway now, her eyes pleading with me to come inside. I sighed, knowing I would give in, regardless of my feelings. We’d had our problems before I caught her cheating, mainly because of her using, but she’d gotten clean again during our divorce and as it looked now, she was still holding strong. She knew I was watching; making sure she kept it together to take care of our son.

  Walking into the house — my house, technically — with Adam and Lizzie, brought an onslaught of memories. Luckily, I’d learned how to lock away memories years ago. I focused on that as we settled into the living room. Conner babbled on my lap, just as clingy as he had been the last few times I’d picked him up. Just turning three, he still didn’t understand why Mommy and Daddy weren’t together anymore.

  I pulled out my phone, having to fight Conner briefly for it so I could send a text to Tish. I knew he’d be pissed I was staying, but I wanted to do what was best for Conner and right now, he needed something normal. All of us spending Christmas Eve together this way, this was our normal.

  I avoided spending time with Lizzie and Adam alone, instead spending as much of the evening focusing on Conner. But I couldn’t help but notice that there wasn’t any real difference in the way Adam and Lizzie interacted. They were comfortable around each other, but that would be true for any of us. However, I couldn’t tell if they were intentionally trying to hide things and just remain friendly in front of me, or if they really weren’t pursuing a relationship now that Lizzie and I were divorced. Was this what it had always been like? I didn’t see it because it happened behind my back, but now I found myself analyzing every memory I had. But, I didn’t need to analyze it; it didn’t matter either way.

  Listening to Tish lecture me as I loaded Conner’s larger gifts into my car late that night almost changed my mind. But when Conner had begged me, wanting me to stay with him there, I couldn’t say no. I’d put him through so much. Actually, we
put him through so much, and I didn’t want to say no when it was something as harmless as spending Christmas as a family. A broken family, but a family.

  It was almost midnight when my phone buzzed. I was lying, wide awake, on the floor of Conner’s room, feeling like a complete idiot again for having agreed to this. I pulled the phone from the charger, squinting against the bright light as I unlocked the screen.

  Paige: Merry Christmas, Fuckface.

  I had to choke back a laugh, not wanting to wake up Conner.

  Me: Have I told you lately that you’re a pain in my ass?

  Rolling to my side, I hoped to block the light from the screen so it wouldn’t bother Conner. I hadn’t thought about the sleeping arrangements when I’d agreed to stay, but Conner and I had built a fort out of sheets in his bedroom and he was now sound asleep, sideways across the pile of blankets that was our makeshift bed.

  Paige: Not since last week.

  Me: Damn. I’m off my game.

  Paige: You have game?

  Me: Ouch.

  Paige: I win.

  I shook my head, sighing. Talking to Paige made me miss her but tonight, all I could think about was the fact that she would’ve put up an even bigger fight than Tish if she knew where I was.

  Me: Merry Christmas, Pigeon-poop.

  Paige: Gross. You had to go fifth grade on me?

  The memory of Paige crying to Olivia because the kids at school made fun of her came to mind, bringing with it the sharp pain that always accompanied thoughts of Olivia. Paige had to read her paper about herself in front of the class at the beginning of the school year. It was supposed to help the students get to know one another. One of the things on the list of points to cover was nicknames. She wrote that we all used to call her Paigey-poo to make her mad. The boys in the class took the name and ran with it, turning it into Pigeon-poop.

  Me: Yup. Where are you spending Christmas this year?

  Paige: With my fuck buddy.

  Rolling my eyes, I let out a soft growl. I’d told her about my fight with Lili earlier in the week and now she was apparently going to torment me. Well, I wouldn’t let her.

  Me: I hope he has a big cock.

  Paige: Actually, SHE has a perfect rack.

  Me: You win. Just stop.

  I had no one but myself to blame for her corruption. I chuckled, but my humor faded as her next message came through.

  Paige: I always win. You should know that by now. What about you? Looking forward to spending Conner’s first Christmas morning without the slut muffin?

  I stared at the screen, knowing she was going to be pissed. But it didn’t do any good to lie to her. Besides, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  Me: Actually, I decided to crash at Lizzie’s so he could be at home on Christmas morning.

  The long silence that followed worried me, but I knew it probably meant she was writing a novel in response.

  Paige: Okay, I hope to GOD you’re kidding. If you’re not, I’m going to need to borrow money from Nana and Poppy because my rent money will be spent on a plane ticket and I’ll probably need bail, too. Are you insane? What the FUCK are you thinking? I seriously should’ve come home when you left that cum dumpster and kicked her in the ovaries. You know she’s just using Conner to get to you!

  I took a deep breath, trying not to get angry with her. Like Tish, she worried about me getting sucked back in by Lizzie. She’d tried, and nearly succeeded, to talk me out of the divorce. She wanted to go to counseling and work through our problems, but in the end, I followed through with my decision.

  Me: I don’t need another lecture. Tish took care of that. I’m going to sleep. Night, Paige. Merry Christmas.

  I shut off my phone, knowing she would reply and not wanting to deal with it. I wasn’t an idiot. I wouldn’t fall for Lizzie’s shit. I knew better.

  Christmas was a holiday for families. That had always been my outlook. If it was meant to be like the pictures or the holiday movies on TV… well, I wouldn’t know. Holidays were always a chance for my parents to go overboard on decorations but we usually weren’t even home Christmas morning. There was always some exotic locale that they had to see, so my sister and I would spend the day with some glorified babysitter or with a group of kids our age who’d been dumped off by their parents for group activities.

  It didn’t surprise me that holidays weren’t big for Tish either. Zane was different; he had a kid. And unlike my parents, he seemed to care about what that meant. I knew Tish was pissed that Zane stayed at Lizzie’s house but I thought it was cool. I didn’t know Lizzie well, I’d only met her a few times when she came to pick up Conner, but I knew what she’d put Zane through. I understood where Tish was coming from, he worried about his brother, but I stayed out of it. It wasn’t my place to judge Zane’s choice and I actually approved of his decision to put his son first.

  While the shop was closed on Christmas Day, Tish said I could come in the day after and hang out if I wanted to. It gave me an excuse to chill with Tony. We laughed as we discreetly eavesdropped on Tish and Kas, the newest artist in the shop, exchanging small gifts. I knew they’d been out a few times and seeing him nervous made me smile. Kas was keeping him on his toes and the more time I spent around her, the more I found she was a great match for Tish.

  Overall, the week dragged. I was waiting until after New Year’s to start hunting for a new job because the madness of the crowds was still a little overwhelming. As much as I needed the mayhem of a city like this to stay hidden, it was still hard to adapt.

  “Big plans tonight?” Zane asked as he dropped down onto the couch beside me. I glanced up from my phone, realizing I’d been grinning as I sent dirty texts to Tony. He was busy, out of town for a family emergency, but I’d been distracting him when he asked. I didn’t know what was going on and it wasn’t any of my business, I was just trying to make him laugh.

  “Nope. I don’t really celebrate New Year’s any more than I do Christmas or Thanksgiving,” I answered honestly, reaching into the bowl of popcorn and frowning when I realized it was empty. I’d been all curled up and set to watch the fireworks on TV.

  “New Year’s is an important one. You really don’t celebrate?” he asked, his tone subdued. He’d been quiet this week, spending most of his time away from the house except late at night. I’d only spoken to him a handful of times since our night out on Christmas Eve.

  “Nope,” I said, not looking away from his quizzical stare.

  “Get up,” he said suddenly, surprising me as he stood. “Come on.”

  “What?”

  He held out his hand to me. “Get up. We’re going out.”

  I groaned. “I don’t feel like going out.” Getting dressed up and dealing with the sure to be packed bars and clubs on the Strip would take way more energy than I had. The week leading up to Christmas had been bad enough. I knew New Year’s would be insane.

  “Nope. No complaining. Come on. We won’t be in the crowd, I promise. I want to show you one of my favorite places in Vegas. No one else will be there.”

  He caught my attention and I let him pull me to my feet. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

  “New Year’s is important,” he repeated, nodding his head. “Go get your shoes on. We need to hurry.”

  I did as he said, curious as to why New Year’s Eve, of all holidays, was important to Zane. I grabbed my jacket from the hook, rushing out the door as Zane tossed blankets in the backseat. I opened my mouth to make a joke but the look on his face stopped me. He was hurting. Something was really bothering him. I slid in the passenger seat, zipping up my hoodie as Zane headed toward the Strip. I knew the street was closed to traffic for the night so I wondered what he had up his sleeve.

  When he pulled around a back street and parked in the lot of an abandoned building, I raised an eyebrow. “This is your favorite spot in Vegas?”

  He chuckled. “No. We have to walk from here. Come on. Hurry.”

  I looked at my phone. It w
as eleven-fifteen. As I practically jogged to keep up with him, I wondered where he was taking me that we were going to need forty-five minutes to get there from here.

  He rounded a corner and headed into the bottom level of a parking garage. We walked up, taking the stairs to the top level. When the door opened, I was shocked. The lights of the Strip were visible to one side of us, but the view all the way around was spectacular. The mountains in the distance, the twinkling of city lights laid out along the flat desert, it was all gorgeous. But it was the quiet that made it surreal. There was no one up here but us. The hustle and bustle of people normally present everywhere in Vegas was completely absent on this level. All I could hear was the occasional faint car horn and the wind. I walked to the ledge, looking over.

  In the direction of the Strip, I could see the movement of life but closer to us, there was almost no one. It was a crazy, somehow calming feeling, and exactly what I needed.

  “So, what is it about New Year’s that’s so important?” I finally asked Zane. I knew he was close behind me, though he hadn’t spoken.

  “First, here,” he said, causing me to turn and face him. He held out a bright red and white Santa hat, the match to the one he was wearing, and I burst out laughing. He grinned. “Shut up and put it on.”

  I snatched the hat from his hand, pulling it over my head while I continued to laugh. “Aren’t we supposed be wearing those ridiculous paper things that have the new year on them?”

  “Sure. If you want to freeze to death,” he said, shrugging. “This way, you’re warm.”

  “Fair enough.” I tugged my hat lower, covering my ears. It was chilly this time of year and up here on the roof, the wind made it even colder. He was right; the Santa hat was definitely helping.