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Herdatehas dark hair like I do, but is a good deal shorter than I am—not hard to accomplish considering I’m six-five. Is that what Chelsea wants? A man who doesn’t tower over her? Or a man with a beard, like the one now laughing at something she says?
You could have asked her out, I chastise myself.
Any time in the last few years, once Chelsea was eighteen and out of high school, it would have been totally fine.
But I didn’t.
I tried not to eventhinkabout the possibility once Chelsea became more than John’s sister. I’m not even sure when my friendly, brotherly feelings for her morphed into something far beyond just friendly or at all brotherly.
But the moment I caught myself watching her with a quickening pulse and fluttery feeling in my gut, I locked my feelings up in a tamper-proof vault.
All because of John, whose actions toward any guy Chelsea ever dated convinced me that asking him about dating her would end badly. More than that, it might end the way their family welcomes me in, something I don’t take likely.
Not when my own family is basically nonexistent. My dad was killed in action before I was born, and my mom is so caught up in a cycle of addiction she’s hardly been present in my life. From as early on as I can remember, I was the one making sure we were both fed and my permission slips were signed.
And then I met John at UT. He invited me home for dinner once, and then pretty much adopted me. His mom and Chelsea too.
Messing things up with their family would be devastating for me.
I try to tell myself it’s a good thing the date seems to be going well. A good thing forChelsea. From the moment she walked into the restaurant—tripping and almost taking out a little girl—she’s been all smiles. So has her date. Of course, he’s smiling. Chelsea is … irresistible.
I’m honestly shocked some guy hasn’t figured this out yet and put a ring on her finger. That thought makes my stomach churn painfully.
Good thing I didn’t eat beforehand.
Chelsea gets up, presumably to use the bathroom, and I debate striding inside and telling this guy to back off. Threatening him the way John would. The way he did so many times over the years.
Maybe it’s no accident Chelsea hasn’t found a serious boyfriend. Not with John constantly scaring them off. Sometimes with my help. Though I’ve been more the silent partner, standing there being intimidating, all the while feeling guilty. Because if Chelsea only knew how far John has taken his warnings in the past, she would not be happy.
I flick on the radio, needing a distraction. It’s still playing Christmas songs, though it’s now December 26th. I don’t mind, honestly. Maybe because I’ve spent so many holidays with the Roberts, where Christmas starts Thanksgiving night and ends New Year’s Day.
My mind goes back to the scraggly tree Chelsea dragged into John’s loft. And the ornaments. She must have planned to put it up and decorate it for these last few days in December. Though somehow she managed to strip off most of the needles and break every ornament on the way in. I had to empty the vacuum twice to get rid of all the needles.
I watch Chelsea return to the table. This time, she sits down right next to her date. I clench my hands around the steering wheel, forcing slow breaths in through my nose.
It only gets worse as they exit the restaurant and walk out to the parking lot. Chelsea was at least smart enough to meet this guy here rather than driving together. But that means she’s now in a dark parking lot with a man she’s just met. Alone.
Almostalone.
As quietly as I can, I get out of my car, making sure to turn the interior light off beforehand. I don’t want to be spotted as I make my way toward where I saw her car parked earlier.
I need to be closer. Just in case.
Though if they start kissing, thelastplace I want to be is closer.
I’m driven by a protective instinct, crouching as I make my way through the lot until I’m just a few rows away as they stop by Chelsea’s car. Not close enough to hear, but close enough to help if she needs it.
Please don’t kiss. Please don’t kiss. Please—do not kiss.
I don’t believe in Christmas wishes—my childhood taught me that—but I toss my wish into the universe anyway.
And for once, it’s granted. The man keeps a respectful distance, and as Chelsea climbs into her car and drives away, something eases in my chest.
That is, until a voice says, “You okay, man?”
I’ve been spotted by Chelsea’s date.Awesome.
“Uh, just looking for my keys.”
