Christmas Carol

What the fuck is wrong with me? I did drive to the drug store, but then drove around in circles for a good hour, trying to sort through everything in my brain. Now, I’m sitting in my car, parked in the driveway, drumming up the courage to face her again. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Carol. I can’t even begin to sort it out in my own damn head. I let out a growl—which is solely directed at myself—turn off the engine, and then head back inside.

I refuse to act like a scared little kid. I’m a grown man and just because Carol through a curve ball at me, nothing has really changed. I still want her, and I am going to have her. Hell, if I’m honest, the fact that she’s never had a man, excites me even more. There’s this surge of possessiveness inside of me that has been boiling over since she told me. I want to be her first man. Fuck, I want to be her only man. Everything I’m feeling right now is completely foreign to me and I know it’s only been a couple of days, but it feels right. I’m not saying this is love. I don’t believe in that emotion, but this connection we have is stronger than anything I’ve ever known—anything I ever dream existed. And for a man like me… that’s enough.

I’m going to claim her and make her mine. That’s after I repair the damage I’ve already inflicted. I open the door, barely taking time to lock it before jogging to the master bedroom.

“Carol, Bebé…” I stop talking when I discover my bed is empty. I should have expected that. Why would she wait on me, after the way I messed up? I’m a fucking dumbass. I contemplate going after her, but it’s late and I’ve already caused a hell of a lot problems for one night. Perhaps it would be better to just start over in the morning. Realistically, I know I’m being a fucking pussy. I should just go over there and admit she threw me for a loop. Then, claim her like I’m dying to do. Instead? I’m going to take a very long shower and jerk off while I remember Carol’s perfect body…Carol“I’m fine Ida Sue. It would have never worked out anyway,” I murmur, ignoring how bad those words hurt.

“You just remember, darling girl, that even the best of men have horse shit for brains sometimes. When he comes back—”

“Ida Sue, I really don’t think he’ll—”

“Oh, he’ll be back, Carol, don’t you be worry about that. Do you know, if you were my girl, I would have named you Holly—or maybe Poinsettia.”

“Poinsettia actually makes me glad for the name Carol,” I laugh.

“Kids today just have no imagination,” Ida Sue grumbles.

“The point is, I’m fine, Ida Sue. I promise. Shouldn’t you be more worried about getting Maggie to forgive you for leaving her deserted in a cabin?” I ask, trying desperately to change the subject.

“We’ve mended our fences,” she assures me. “But, let me tell you something, that girl is hard-headed. She could give my boys lessons.”

“She probably gets it from her mother,” I laugh, although I’m not feeling very joyful.

“There you go sassing me. I swear old women never get respect,” Ida Sue mutters.

“You’re not that old,” I respond, shaking my head.

“Maybe not in years, but Jan and my kids have aged me, sweet Carol. Now, I need to get off of here and serve Jansen up his lunch on that kitchen table while we have the place to ourselves. You hold on tight. I’ve got a good feeling about Cyrus. He’s rough around the edges, but he’ll pull through—you’ll see.”

“If you say so,” I agree, but I really doubt it. I didn’t expect him to come looking for me last night, but I kind of thought he might by morning. I’m not used to relationships though. Maybe what we shared wasn’t as earth shattering for him. As for me, my body is craving more, and I miss him more than I ever thought it was possible to miss someone.

“Now you stop letting those doubts inside that head of yours. You’ve got Lucas blood running through those veins, even if your dad had horrible taste in women, it doesn’t mean you have that gene. Cyrus is a good one.”

“Okay, Ida Sue. I’ll let you go before the food you’re fixing Jansen gets cold.”

“Who says I’m cooking?” She laughs and suddenly I understand why she wanted to serve his lunch while they were alone. I hang up with a sigh.

“Ida Sue encouraging you to not give up on Cyrus?” Krissy asks.

“Yeah,” I breathe, feeling lost.

“How do you feel about him?”

“That sounds like such an easy question, but this is only the beginning of day three of knowing him. He hates Christmas and I’m Christmas Carol. He despises being here in Mistletoe and this place is home to me and…”