Legacy by M.A. Foster

December

_____________________________

Dylan

Ipull up at my parents’ house just as they’re coming down the driveway. Rolling down the window, I poke my head out. “Where are you going?”

“We’s gonna go see Santa,” Willow calls out as Cole opens the back door of his Tahoe and helps her into her car seat.

My dad walks to the driver side as Aiden crosses in front of my truck and climbs into the passenger seat. “I’ll ride with Dylan.”

Dad leans with his forearms resting on the open window ledge. “I called you twice and sent you a text telling you to meet us.”

My brows pinch. “You did?” I pluck my phone from the console and swipe the screen. “It’s dead. Sorry.” Reaching for the charging cord, I plug it into my phone and set it back in the console before turning to face him. “Why are you just now taking her to see Santa? It’s Christmas Eve.”

He shoots me a look that says “give me a break” and sighs. “We’ve taken her several times. Waited in line for an hour, and as soon as it’s her turn, she changes her mind.”

“Why?”

“She’s scared of him,” Aiden says.

Cole walks up to my truck and stands next to Dad. “Are you coming?”

“Of course. Do you think she’ll go through with it this time?”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Who knows? She told me she was ready this time.” He chuckles. “I told her this was her last chance because Santa had to get back to the North Pole.”

“Since we’re already out, we’re gonna grab an early dinner at Oceanside afterward,” Dad adds.

That explains why they’re all dressed up.

I look down at my jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt. “Let me run to my apartment and change. We’ll meet you there.”

* * *

“No, Co,” Willow whines, clinging to Cole like a spider monkey. “I don’t want to.”

“You said you were ready,” Cole reminds her.

After a grueling forty-five-minute wait, it’s Willow’s turn to meet Santa, and once again she’s changed her mind. My dad looks over at me and shakes his head, trying not to laugh, but Aiden doesn’t hold back.

“I told you she wouldn’t do it.”

Cole turns to the couple behind us. “You guys can go ahead. We need a few more minutes.”

“Thank you,” the woman says as she and a man I assume is her husband lead a little boy by the hand over to Santa. He looks to be about the same age as Willow.

“Look at him, Willow. If he can do it, so can you,” Cole says, trying to coax her.

“Want me to go with you?” Harper offers, extending her arms to Willow.

Willow’s gaze bounces between Santa and Harper.

While she seems to be considering it, I suggest, “Why don’t we all go?”

My mom turns to me with a huge smile. “That’s a great idea, Dylan.” She doesn’t have to say it; I can see in her eyes how excited she is about this. Cole sees it, too.

“Do you want us to go with you?” Cole asks Willow.

“Yes,” Willow murmurs.

Santa gives us the okay for the family photo op, so the seven of us crowd around him. Willow won’t sit on his lap, so Harper sits on one side with Willow on her lap. Cole stands at her side and I’m beside Cole. My mother is on Santa's other leg with my dad by her side and Aiden beside him.

My dad shoots me a look silently thanking me, but he doesn’t have to. Moments like these are the best gift we could ever give our parents. Eventually, we’ll all go our separate ways and the holidays will be harder on my family. I have no plans to leave Heritage Bay, but who knows where Cole will end up if he gets picked up by the NFL? Who knows where Aiden will go to college? Who knows what tomorrow brings?

Tomorrows are a gift, not a promise.

* * *

An amused smile stretches across my face as I listen to the pitter-patter of small feet slapping against the hardwood floor, growing louder as each step draws her closer until she stops outside the bedroom door. The handle twists, and the door swings open. I quickly close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. A moment later, I feel a tiny hand on my cheek, and it takes everything I have not to crack a smile, imagining Willow’s adorably frustrated face right now. She wants to open her presents, and she can’t until everyone is up. Mom’s rule.

I haven’t lived at home since I moved out for college, but I always spend the night on Christmas Eve so my parents can have all their kids together on Christmas morning.

“Merry Cwismas,” she whispers sweetly. The strands of her hair tickle my face as puffs of her peppermint-scented breath hit me in the nose.

I pop my eyes open, and she giggles. “Did you eat a candy cane for breakfast?”

Her eyes widen like a deer in headlights. Busted. “No.”

Little liar.

I force myself to keep a straight face. “Willow, it’s not nice to lie. I’m not gonna be mad. Did you eat a candy cane?”

She scrunches up her nose just like Jade used to do when shit got awkward, and my heart twists in my chest. Leaning in, Willow presses her forehead to mine and whispers, “Don’t tell Co.”

I turn my face into the mattress to stop myself from laughing out loud, which will only encourage her. I can’t believe I’m conspiring with a three-year-old before the sun is even up.

“Dilly, get up. I wanna open my pwesents.”

“Did Santa come?”

“Yes.” She nods enthusiastically. “We’s waitin’ for you.”

“Go wait for me by the tree. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she squeals as she runs out of the room. “He’s comin’,” I hear her yell as her little feet carry her down the hall.

Chuckling, I toss the covers back and head to the bathroom.

* * *

An hour later, the living room is covered in wrapping paper, empty boxes, and toys. My mom and Harper are getting dressed. Aiden is playing video games. Willow crashed about five minutes ago while Dad, Cole, and I are putting together her dollhouse from Santa.

“Do you think she’d notice if we just threw this thing in the trash?” Cole jokes as he stares down at the directions.

“You should’ve paid extra to have it assembled,” I say.

Cole jerks his head up, eyes wide. “That was an option?”

My dad chuckles. “All gifts from Santa should come assembled. That’s why he has elves,” he adds with a wink.

I can’t help but laugh at the expression on Cole’s face as he lets that information soak in. “I never thought about it like that.”

“There’s always next year,” I offer. “Now let’s get this thing finished before the diva wakes up.”

* * *

Emerson and Cam are hosting Christmas brunch at their house this year. The dining room table is set up buffet-style with an array of breakfast foods, muffins, deli meats, cheeses, breads, and fruit.

“Nice spread,” I say, grabbing a plate and moving to stand beside Zach, who’s piling food onto his plate like he hasn’t eaten for a week.

“Thank Grace,” Cam replies as he fills his plate.

“Hey, I helped,” Jay adds as she sets down a pitcher of lemon water at the end of the table.

“Did you cut the lemons?” Cole teases.

“I did, smartass.” She points to the muffin on his plate. “I made the muffins, too.” She flashes him a tight, shit-eating grin before turning and heading back to the kitchen.

Zach looks over his shoulder before grabbing the muffin off Cole’s plate and tossing it back in the basket.

“Bro,” Cole growls.

My brother does not like people to touch his food.

“Trust me, bro,” Zach drawls. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Cut her some slack,” Cam chides. “She’s just trying to learn how to be more domestic.”

Zach narrows his eyes at Cam. “I know she is.” He sets down his plate, lifts his shirt, and pulls out the top of his pink boxer briefs. “She’s moved on to laundry.”

Cole snorts and reaches for the muffin. “It can’t be that bad. She has Grace to teach her.” He bites into the muffin and chews.

“That’s the whole point,” Zach explains, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “She doesn’t want Grace to teach her. She wants to learn on her own.”

“Why?” Cole’s face screws up with a sour expression as he swallows. “Wow. That was bad.”

“I agree with Cam,” I interject. “Cut her some slack. Clearly she’s trying to learn how to take care of you as her husband.”

“Maybe you should ask Emerson to help,” Cam suggests.

Zach snorts. “I think Emerson would take pleasure in watching me suffer.”

“Give her some credit,” Cam retorts. “It’s not like you ran off and eloped with her only child at the time,” he adds sarcastically.

“Sounds to me like she’s bored,” Cole points out.

Zach rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. You don’t think I know that, too? This is a phase, and I’m just gonna have to ride it out. Even if I have to choke down her terrible food.”

“If her food is bad, you need to tell her,” I say.

“I’m not telling her shit. This is what I signed up for when I married her. If she wants to play Suzy Homemaker, then I’m going to be her guinea pig.” Reaching over, he snatches a muffin from the basket and holds it up. “I’ll eat her shitty muffins with a smile, and I’ll wear pink boxers every day if that’s what makes my wife happy.”

“I knew you’d be a good husband.” My best friend’s voice reverberates behind me.

Setting my plate down, I turn around, closing the distance between Alex and me and pulling him in for a hug.

“Merry Christmas,” we say at the same time, smacking each other on the back.

“Where’s your better half?” I ask.

“On a plane heading to London.”

“Why aren’t you with her?”

“I’ll see her in a few days. I came to surprise my mom and dad. Thought I’d swing by and see my sister, meet the new baby, and catch up with my best friend.” He grins.

Alex’s mom and dad—the man who raised him—still live in Tampa where Alex grew up.

“How much time have you got?”

He grips my shoulder. “As much time as you need.”

* * *

“You got any plans for New Year’s?” Alex asks, propping his feet up on my coffee table.

Traditionally, the whole family flies to New York the day after Christmas and stays through the New Year. But with Jay and Alex having just come off tour less than two months ago, Emerson and Cam having a new baby, and Liam and Vanessa reconciling and settling into their new home, we’re skipping it this year.

“No.” I pass him a beer before dropping down on the opposite end of the sofa.

“You should come with me to London. Eva’s working with a new designer, and they’re supposed to wrap up by New Year’s Eve. Then we’re heading over to the Onyx Hotel for the relaunch party at Bliss. Venom is playing, and I’d like to meet him.”

“Sounds like a good time. I’m down.”

“Sweet.” He waves a hand toward me. “Now show me the new tat.”

I set my beer on the coffee table and remove my shirt. I hold out my arm to show him the treble clef on the inside of my forearm.

Alex leans in to inspect the words weaving through the treble clef. “Sad Girl,” he croons. “That’s sick.”

My sleeves are still a work in progress, but I’ve added another piece since the treble clef. “This one is new. I haven’t shown anyone yet.” I extend my arm to reveal the image of Uncle Marcus stretching from just below my armpit to my elbow. His wings are expanded behind him. A guitar is strapped across his front, and his hands are raised in the air with the universal rocker sign.

“Your guy is good.” He nods in approval.

“He is,” I agree. “When are you gonna get some ink, rock star?”

Alex snorts. “I have one.”

I raise my brows. “Since when.”

“Since the tour.” He pulls up his sleeve and on the inside of his forearm is a tattoo in very familiar handwriting that says, ‘better late, than never’. “It’s Marcus’s handwriting. He wrote that in his letter to me.” He clears the emotion from his throat. “I’ll always regret waiting so long to meet him, but I’m grateful for the time I had with him.”

“No regrets, bro. Marcus loved you from the start, and I know without a doubt he’s fuckin’ proud of you—of both his kids.”

“Thanks, man.”