I sipped my cocoa and got to the bottom of the cup, doing it making a decision.
So he was scary. So he was badass. So he was closed off in a way that he’d made clear more than once he was never going to open.
I didn’t care.
I had this one shot, the only one I knew I’d ever get, so I was going to take it.
He would give nothing, this I knew.
I didn’t care about that either.
I was going to do what I had to do.
No.
I was going to take what I needed and give what I wanted.
Therefore, I said, “Gonna call it a night,” as I unwrapped myself and got to my feet.
I threw the blanket over my arm and made to move between our chairs as Priest remained silent.
I stopped by his chair and I looked down at him gazing at the trees.
“I know you don’t wanna hear this,” I started quietly. “I know you don’t do friendly. But I don’t care. It’s still Christmas and I still get to give friendly and you’re gonna take it.”
He didn’t move and he didn’t speak.
I did.
“It was a good Christmas, John.”
I didn’t see him tense but I sure as heck felt it.
That didn’t stop me.
“It was going to be a crappy one, but you showed and made it good. I’ll remember it forever, the year the stranger who wasn’t a stranger saved me from a lonely holiday.”
Before I lost my nerve, I bent to him, my lips at his ear. So close, I could smell his scent. And it was his. Not cologne. Not aftershave.
All Priest.
Heavenly.
“It meant a lot,” I whispered. “So I thank you for that, John Priest.”
I moved my head, my lips now at his temple while he remained stone-still.
“Merry Christmas,” I finished softly, brushed my lips against the dark hair beyond his temple, and quickly, before he could rebuff me and take away all the goodness he’d given me, I scurried to the door and through it.
I made sure the house was locked up (all but the side door off the kitchen so Priest could get in, of course), but kept a few lights on to lead Priest’s way to bed.
I got in my own and laid there for a long time, listening.
He didn’t come up for ages. I checked my alarm clock and it was over an hour.
Only when I heard the door close in the hall did my eyes finally drift shut so I could go to sleep.
And I slept not knowing that the man in my guestroom sat outside for over an hour, quietly, unmoving, all the while waging war.