Merry Cherry Christmas

Valerie shook her head. “I’m so sorry. We can take you to the ER to get checked out.”

“Honestly, I didn’t fall that hard.” Jeremy waved off more concern from Valerie and John, who clearly felt guilty.

“All right. You boys change out of those wet clothes.” Valerie shooed them upstairs.

Along with Max’s wet feet, the knees of his jeans were damp. Jeremy’s butt had taken the brunt of it, but his socks had gotten a little wet too. He flipped on the light in the guest room, surprised when Max followed him in.

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

Max’s brow was furrowed. “You’re sure it doesn’t hurt too much?”

“Positive.” Jeremy bent to peel off his socks and couldn’t hide a wince. Before he knew what was happening, Max was on his knees, his hands steadying on Jeremy’s hips.

“Lift,” he instructed, tapping one of Jeremy’s feet.

Jeremy did as he was told, holding on to Max’s shoulders as Max gently removed his socks and rubbed his cold feet one after the other. His hands were so big, and it felt damn good. Way, way too good. Then those hands were on Jeremy’s fly, and Max was peeling down his jeans, helping Jeremy step out of them.

In the perfect spot to see Jeremy’s dick swell.

Max’s breath caught audibly, and he peered up at Jeremy through thick lashes. His lips parted, and it felt like the air between them was suddenly electric. Heart thudding, Jeremy clutched his shoulders.

“I’m okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “You don’t need to worry.” This was the part where he had to step back, but he was rooted to the floor.

Slowly, Max pushed to his feet, running his hands up the outside of Jeremy’s thighs to rest on his hips again. He stared down, their eyes locked. “You sure?”

Jeremy could only nod.

Even more slowly, Max’s hand slid around to brush Jeremy’s ass over his boxer-briefs. “It doesn’t hurt?”

Jeremy shook his head, swallowing thickly. Max’s hand rested there against his butt, and he was dying to push back and rub against it. Beg for more contact. Even though they’d done way more, there was something so exciting about this light touch.

Slowly, Max slid that hand up Jeremy’s back, a trail of heat in its wake, coming around his shoulder and stopping at his cheek. He traced one side of Jeremy’s glasses, following the black frame. “At least these survived this time.”

Trying to smile, Jeremy nodded. He made a little sound that was embarrassingly like a whimper. Max’s breath was warm against his face, and Max licked his lips. He leaned down, his body pressing close—

“Jeremy, how are you doing?” Valerie called, her voice too close, the stairs creaking.

He and Max sprang apart, and Jeremy leapt for the bed, grabbing his PJ bottoms and yanking up the plaid flannel. Max dove across the hall into his room as Jeremy whipped off his sweatshirt and balled it on his lap to hide his erection. He curled his toes on the carpet reflexively.

“I’m great!” His voice was far too high and reedy.

Valerie appeared in the doorway, concern obvious on her face. “Really? I feel awful.”

“Honestly, I’m totally okay. Are we going to watch the rest of the movie?”

“Absolutely. John’s stirring the hot chocolate.” She beckoned him. “Let’s get comfy.”

Fortunately, he’d gotten his body under control. Max joined them wearing his own PJs and fresh socks, and Valerie took his cheek and gave him a kiss. She squeezed Jeremy in a half hug, and they trooped downstairs.

Curled up on the love seat again, Jeremy sipped his milky, perfectly sweet hot chocolate next to Max—so close, but so, so far away.

Chapter Ten

The email notification appeared at the top of the screen, hovering there for a few seconds before disappearing. Max’s thumbs froze, his text to Honey half-finished.

LSAT results. This was it.

Squinting in the sunshine of a cold and crisp day that was perfect for the open house, Max slid his aviators back on and finished the text quickly before putting his phone away. Standing by the long narrow planter they’d set on two tables across from the barn, he packed down clean snow with a pair of nylon mitts fresh from the dryer.

Soon, kids would be lining up for maple taffy made by pouring hot syrup on the snow, but right now, Max’s head spun. The doubts he’d been muffling—smothering—for months were finding their voice. Did he really want to be a lawyer?

“Just look at the results,” he muttered as he dumped another bucket of snow into the planter and packed it down. He was breathing hard for no good reason, the clouds of his breath puffing in and out.

He had to talk about this. It was like the words were climbing his throat and fighting to get out.

Meg was arranging hay bales in the back of the big wagon a neighbor had lent for the day for tours along the service roads through the maple bush. He could go over and spill everything knowing she wouldn’t sugar-coat her opinion. But as much as he loved his sister, he didn’t know if he could handle her honesty right now.