Page 42 of His Secret Santa

Lincoln stared after him, feeling the brunt of his fury in his swollen lip… and much deeper, in his fully functioning heart.

• • •

Holden circled back once he heard Jamie drive away and returned to his car. He started the engine and turned on the heater to thaw his numb body. It only helped to dispel the chill of the night air but did nothing to kill the chill deeper within.

The thought of going home made him feel queasy, but he had nowhere else to go. His life had nowhere to go. That’s how it felt just now. In time, he supposed that would change. He wouldn’t always feel like this, though he feared some part of him always would, that he would never get over this entirely. Not for the rest of his life.

Holden left the park and drove home. He sat in the driveway for a few minutes before going inside and straight up to his room, managing to avoid contact with his parents. His solitude didn’t last long when, less than twenty minutes later, his dad knocked on his door.

“Your mother is concerned about you.” His dad stood at the open door. He rarely came into Holden’s room anymore.

“Why?” Holden mumbled, lying face-down on the bed.

“She’s worried you might be… depressed. And that being… what you are… you might be suicidal. A lot of… kids like you… try to harm themselves.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Holden muttered. He sat up but didn’t look at his dad. “She doesn’t have to worry,” he mumbled. “I’m not depressed and I’m not going to harm myself. I just have stuff going on, but… it’s nothing to worry about.”

His dad stared at him in silence, then said, “If I tell her not to worry, then you do something…”

“I’m not going to,” Holden stressed. “Contrary to all intents and appearances, I know you guys still love me and I would never do that to you.”

Retreating from the doorway, his dad mumbled, “Thank you.” Then he was gone, pulling the door closed after him.

Holden sighed, a lump in his throat. “You’re welcome.”

Chapter 12

“What happened to you?” Darren Pratt eyed his son’s split lip. “Party get out of hand?”

Lincoln shrugged, too tired to dialogue with his dad. “Something like that,” he mumbled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. It was almost dawn before he finally fell asleep and then, he was plagued by unsettling dreams.

“Tell me it was McKenna who clocked you.”

“What?” Lincoln frowned. “Why?”

“Because you deserve it.”

Lincoln sighed and sipped the coffee black, needing a pure shot of caffeine. “What’re you talking about?”

“She called earlier and told me you two broke up.”

Here we go. “That’s right.”

“Did you not hear a damn thing I told you yesterday?”

“I heard,” Lincoln murmured.

“You just don’t know how to listen, is that it?”

Exhaling tiredly, Lincoln said, “She’s not the one for me. She’s a bitch. A mean and cruel bitch. I don’t want to be with someone like that.”

“For fuck’s sake, Lincoln—she’s a woman. Of course, she’s a bitch. The best ones are.”

“I don’t love her.”

His dad huffed. “What’s love got to do with anything? Marriage is a business partnership. You don’t choose a business partner based on sentimentality. Grow up.”

Lincoln pulled out a stool and sat at the counter, his head throbbing, though he hadn’t been drinking at the party. It wasn’t a hangover headache—it was fucking stress. And this back-and-forth with his dad wasn’t helping.