The Holiday List (The Script Club 4)

See, my ex suspected our kid was a genius. I know, I know…everyone liked to think their kid was the next Einstein, right? But Jase was pretty smart, and I figured there might be some truth there when the principal at Linc’s pricey private school recommended that we bump Linc two levels ahead in math. Personally, I was okay with it as long as he didn’t have to change grades.

He didn’t make friends easily, and the ones he had were special. I didn’t want him to leave them only to get ostracized by older kids who didn’t know what to make of a kid who’d spent last summer memorizing the periodic table of elements.

Yeah, I scratched my head on that one, but Linc marched to the beat of his own drum. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t a weirdo. He was just enthusiastic about his interests. And over the past year, he’d become very passionate about science. Specifically…experiments.

Most of his efforts had something to do with food. For instance, he’d put vinegar in a cup of water with an egg and timed how long it would take for the shell to dissolve. And of course, he’d done the Mentos and Diet Coke experiment. When the Internet said “Watch out, that thing will blow,” I should have listened. It had taken for-fucking-ever to clean that mess.

Somewhere in there, I’d suggested he do a few harmless experiments outside. Those didn’t go so great. He made his own silly string…genius, yes. However, Mrs. Maldonado didn’t appreciate that he’d tested its integrity on her mailbox. She was cool about it, though. And she was the one who’d pointed out that we had legit scientists with genius IQs in the neighborhood who might give Linc a few tips.

But I had a feeling they were wary of Linc’s outdoor shenanigans, and I didn’t think Chet would be coming back anytime soon, either.

Too bad. I liked him.

He was awkward but very fucking cute. Thick reddish-brown hair, Coke-bottle glasses…did he really call me Mr. McSwoony? I had a dopey smile on my face as I reached for the remote control, grumbling in frustration at the play unfolding on the field.

“Holding.” I threw an imaginary yellow flag and sighed as I headed to the kitchen.

I was supposed to officiate tonight. Sure, it was a bad game, but who cared? I’d rather be there than sitting on my ass with a bum shoulder, wishing time away. I gathered our mugs with one hand and put them in the sink, then went back for my phone—and another cookie. They were damn tasty, I mused, biting into one as I reached for my cell.

When my screen prompted me to enter my password, I did and got…nothing. I tried again with the same result. My son might or might not be a genius, but he obviously didn’t get it from me. I glowered at my phone, willing it to cooperate, and finally clued in that it wasn’t mine.

Oh.

Well, what do you know?

I found my cell on the far counter, stuffed it into my pocket, and was out the door in seconds flat.

It was cold enough to make my cock shrink, but I didn’t bother with a jacket. This wouldn’t take long. I was on a neighborly mission. No strings attached. However, if some of that holiday goodwill bullshit worked, maybe Chet would reconsider spending time with a fellow science enthusiast, albeit in pint-size form. If not, I’d try again when I returned the cookie plate.

Persistence paid off. I hoped.

I climbed the steps to the corner house, noting that the dim lantern next to the front door heightened the spooky factor. I’d always liked this house’s selectively inviting aura. She was like an old lady, smoking cigarettes and flipping off any passersby who looked a little shady. She didn’t care for approval. She’d been here long before all of us, and something told me she’d be here for many years to come. Weird thought maybe, but it was true.

This house had been a safe haven when I needed it most. I hadn’t been inside in a while, or even stood on the porch, but it felt comforting somehow to be here.

I rang the bell and studied the swaying branches, wrapping my uninjured arm gently around myself as the wind howled, scattering leaves across the lawn. A thrill of anticipation tingled along my spine. Or maybe it was just the chill in the air.

“Oh, it’s you.”

I turned to greet Chet, holding his cell like a prize. “Hey, you forgot something.”

He set his hand over his heart and sighed theatrically. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought I’d dropped it on my way home.”

“Nope. You left it on the counter.”

“Thank you. I was just about to cross over into full panic mode.”

“It’s all good now,” I said soothingly.

Chet nodded like a puppet. “Yes, yes. I can concentrate on burglar-proofing the house before I prepare for the week ahead. There’s a lot happening on Mars, you know. Communications were down last month when the sun blocked the transmission of any new data. It gave us a chance to catch up on Earth, however, I can’t help feeling like we’ve lost time. There’s new information to collect. And of course, dirt samples.”