The Monster (Boston Belles #3) - L.J. Shen Page 0,111

belittling you.” She looked around for support and found it from Sailor and Belle, who nodded, shuffling up to their feet also.

“Reforming bad men seems to be the theme of our girl-gang.” Sailor smiled crookedly, and in that moment, I could swear that even though they didn’t share DNA, she was all Sam. Same mannerisms and lopsided smile. “So I’m really not sure why we’re even worried about you.”

“You also happen to be annoyingly right.” Belle rolled her eyes with a huff. “We all have our ten-ton baggage. Our dark fears. The things that made us who we are today. So what if you’re a one-man woman? At least that man can wear the heck out of a pea coat, is tall as fuck, and richer than sin.”

“Let’s start this again,” Sailor said tentatively. “This time without the judge fest. Ash, would you like to spend an evening together? Just eating junk, getting drunk, watching TV, and sharing tea that has nothing to do with the hot liquid?”

I smiled softly, feeling like a stone had been lifted from my heart, and it was my friends that had pushed it off through teamwork.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

And just like that, I knew I would no longer get shit for whatever happened or didn’t happen with Sam.

The Brennans and the Fitzpatricks did not celebrate Christmas together that year for the first time in a decade.

Sailor elegantly addressed the subject after Jane and Gerald’s invitation arrived at her house, excluding Troy’s, Sparrow’s, and my name.

It was during Christmas dinner, with Hunter looking so emo he gave that asshole from Panic! At The Disco a run for his money.

“What did you do, you class-A fuckboy?” Sailor shot poisonous arrows across the table with her moss-green eyes.

Entirely unwilling to discuss the subject publicly, I shoved lukewarm yams into my mouth.

“What do you care? I saved you from a night of boredom at the Fitzpatricks’.”

“First of all, it is my family you are talking about,” Hunter stated the fucking obvious, as per usual. “Second, I was looking forward to seeing Cillian and Ash.”

“You’re welcome to join them, Hunter. No one is forcing you to be here,” Troy said matter-of-factly, though I knew he was still pissed with me for screwing up the entire Gerald operation.

I’d given Nix a few days to come to terms with what had happened between her father and me, letting her cool down. She was upset. That was a given. But she would get over it.

I imagined her overcome with joy as I told her I’d come to terms with the idea of being with her.

Tonight, I had every intention of putting an end to this nonsense and claim her.

As the evening unfolded, and Hunter hit the eggnog like it was vintage whiskey while Sailor watched over her kids to ensure none of them caught on fire, and Troy and Sparrow looked ready to undress each other, I took my cue and said my goodbyes. Rather than drive back to my apartment, I headed straight to Avebury Court Manor.

I wasn’t so dumb as to think Gerald and Jane Fitzpatrick would share their daughter’s enthusiasm at seeing me on their doorstep. That suited me just fine. I was more than capable of climbing into windows, which according to all the movies and shows I had definitely not watched with Sailor and Sparrow, it was deemed hopelessly romantic.

Nix was a romantic.

I was in the best shape of my life.

It was a no-fucking-brainer.

Parking in front of the mansion, I noticed the lights were already out. The Fitzpatricks wrapped up Christmas early. I rounded their house, detecting Nix’s window. The light was turned off there, too.

Breaking into her room was like taking candy from a baby. Avebury Court Manor was built low and spread out rather than tall and narrow. And there were columns fucking everywhere. The snow was not ideal. Then again, I’d managed climbing my way into places in worse conditions.

I threw a rope over the bannister between her window and one of the columns, and when it fell back through the other side, I tied a tight knot, tugging at it to ensure it was firm before ascending up the column while holding onto the rope, rock-climbing style.

When I reached her window, I knocked on it a few times, peering in through the double-glazed glass. She was sound asleep, unmoving in her bed, her midnight hair fanned across her shoulders and face. A dark angel.

I rapped the window again, watching as she stirred