How the Hitman Stole Christmas

The phone works this time. A second later, it’s ringing.

“Hello.”

My heart stalls. “Brady. It’s Autumn.”

“I know,” he says slowly. “I have caller ID.”

“Oh. Right,” I murmur, blushing. I clear my throat, brushing off old instincts and reminding myself why I’m calling.

To dump him.

“Listen, sorry I didn’t call you last night. I took a wrong turn and ended up getting a little lost. My phone didn’t have service for some reason, and the snow was really bad. Then the tire blew out. Anyway, everything that could go wrong did, but luckily someone driving by stopped to help, and…” My heart does somersaults. This is the part I haven’t decided on. I agonized over it every time it crossed my mind last night. Do I mention that I met someone else? How could I possibly explain not even showing up to get my things for several days otherwise?

Brady sniffs impatiently and urges me along. “And…?”

“Um…” I look down at my lap. “So, I got to thinking about it last night while I was out alone, and… I don’t really feel welcome, Brady. I don’t feel like your family likes me, sometimes I don’t even feel like you like me. I just… This isn’t how I want to spend Christmas.” I sigh, feeling better now that the truth is off my chest, but worse knowing he’s probably about to explode. “I don’t want to come back, Brady. I don’t want to… I’m not coming back.”

He’s quiet on the other end. Quieter than I’m prepared for. I expect him to flip out, to yell, to berate me for thinking of myself and my comfort when his family is watching.

But he doesn’t. “All right,” he says pretty calmly. “If that’s how you feel, I guess I can’t change your mind.”

I blink. I blink again. “Uh… oh. Yeah, right. No, my mind is made up.”

“Well, all right then. I guess there’s not much left to say.”

There isn’t?

Well, no. I guess there isn’t.

“Um… my things—I can come pick them up—”

I stop talking when Jasper waves his hand to get my attention. “I’ll send someone for your things.”

“Oh. Um, actually, would it be okay if a friend picked up my suitcase? I know that sounds kind of cowardly, not even—”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Brady interrupts, not even letting me finish apologizing.

“Oh. Okay, good. I’m having your credit card and your keys overnighted to you, so you should get them in the morning. I’m really sorry about all this, I know the timing is terrible. If it’s easier, you can tell your family I had an emergency and had to fly back home.”

“I think somehow they’ll get past the heartbreak of you leaving.”

My heart sinks at the scathing way he says that.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, clearing his throat. “Let’s not end things on a bad note. Have your friend stop and get your things, you can send mine… since I haven’t received the items you bought using my credit card, I do hope you’re planning to pay me back for those…?”

“Oh, yes, of course I’ll pay for the gifts. I’ll send you a check after the holiday.”

“Cash,” Jasper says, still sitting back and supervising the conversation.

“Or cash,” I add quickly. “I don’t know, but one way or another, you’ll get your money.”

“Wrap it up,” Jasper murmurs, apparently tired of me talking to Brady.

I swallow, trying to think what else there is to say. “I hope you still have a nice holiday with your family. I’m sure you will.”

“Yes,” he mutters. “You too.”

It doesn’t sound sincere, but it’s far better than the response I was prepared for so I can’t help smiling. “Thanks, Brady.”

“Goodbye, Autumn.”

“Bye,” I say, feeling much lighter than I imagined I would when I ended this call.

“Well?” Jasper asks impatiently, leaning back against the wall. “Was he nice?”

I smile and nod. “He was. I guess he didn’t really care,” I say on a little laugh, shaking my head as I think about how much I was dreading that call. “Which, I mean, maybe I should be offended, but I’m relieved. Brady has a bit of a temper, so I wasn’t expecting that to go so well.”

Jasper smiles mildly, pushing off the wall. “Good. Fuck his temper. I’ll pay him a visit when we get back, pay him back for the gifts myself.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“That’s what we’re doing,” he says, not even bothering to let me finish my objection.

“Bossy,” I accuse, watching him kneel down on the ground right beside me.

Jasper reaches beneath the bed and starts unhooking the bondage gear. “The guy’s a dick,” he says unapologetically. “I don’t want you around him anymore.”

I lean back on my palms on the bed and watch him. “How do you know he’s a dick?”

“If you say he is, I trust your judgment.”

“I didn’t say he is,” I point out, smiling mildly.