Christmas with the Reeds
Page 3

“I’m a felon.”
“I know. So is Pete.”
Suddenly, a tear flows over Josh’s lashes and I have to turn and look away. He swipes at his face.
“Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice rough.
“Sometimes a man just needs a chance.”
“I’m going to pay rent,” he insists.
“Okay.”
“And I’ll pay you back for the improvements.”
I shrug. “Okay.”
“And I’ll work really hard for you.”
I nod. “I know you will.”
“My last name isn’t Reed.”
“I know.” I squat down so I can look into his face. “Dude, don’t you know by now that names mean nothing? Some family you’re born with, and some you grow into. You’ve grown into ours, and we’re keeping you.”
He swallows so hard I can hear it. “You’re sure?”
I nod. I’ve been sure about it for a long time. “You have to wear the tights, though.”
“Tights?”
I pat his shoulder and stand up. “It’s required.” I look around the apartment. “What do you think of the place?”
“I think it’s more than I could have dreamed for. And that I don’t deserve it.”
I wince. “I have one rule.”
“What is it?”
“If you don’t want to be here, tell me. Don’t make me have to kick you out because you did something stupid, okay? Our kids and our wives live in this building, and their safety is important to us.”
“It’s important to me too,” he says.
“I know.” I start toward the door. “There are clothes in the closet, and I think Friday put some food in the fridge to start you out. If you need an advance on your paycheck, you’ll find it in the top drawer in the kitchen.”
I open the door and hold it wide so he can roll through. He doesn’t come toward me, so I step farther into the hallway to get out of his way, holding the door with my foot.
“Paul,” he calls.
I turn back. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask, like it’s every day that I give someone an apartment.
“For trusting me,” he says as the elevator doors close.
It’s a long moment before I can breathe again.
“Let’s go put on some fucking tights,” he grumbles.
I grin. The things I’ll do for my brothers.
Sam
Fucking tights. I cannot believe Friday is making me wear tights. Daniel, Pete, Logan, Seth, and I are in Paul and Friday’s bedroom struggling into our elf costumes.
Pete holds his pair up and looks at them like they’re a puzzle in a Cracker Jack box. “What the heck am I supposed to do with them?” he asks.
Logan strips down to his boxers and sits on the edge of the bed. He starts to roll a pair of tights up, scrunching them up in his fingers until he gets to the toes. Then he shoves his hairy leg into one side, and repeats it on the other.
“Dude, you are too good at that,” Daniel says.
Logan shrugs. “I have a daughter,” he replies.
Logan didn’t look up, or have to read Daniel’s lips. I still can’t get used to that. He heard what Daniel said. Sometimes, I just want to sit back and watch as all the sounds hit Logan’s ears. I want to watch his reactions and see him take in noise. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s important.
Seth is doing the same thing Logan just did with the tights. “Dude,” I say.
“Little sisters,” he grunts. “They wear tights.”
“I’ve taken plenty of women out of tights, but I’ve never put one back in a pair,” Pete says. He hikes the waist of his tights up toward his nipples. “Are they supposed to squeeze your balls?”
“If you didn’t have them pulled up to your earlobes, I think you’d like them more,” Logan teases.
I open the door and stick my head out. “Cupcake!” I call. Peck comes down the hallway. “Were you planning to have another kid? Like, ever?”
She laughs. “Maybe. Why?”
“Because I think these tights are going to cut off my sperm-ability.”
She laughs again and I stick my head out the door to kiss her. Pete walks up behind me. “Is this how they go?” he asks.
He pulls the door open wide and Peck shrieks and spins to face the wall. He’s wearing boxers under the tights, but his nuts are squished into a big ball.
“Well, there’s an image I’ll never be able to get out of my head.” Peck stands there with her face covered.
I shove Pete’s shoulder. “What the fuck, Pete?” I say. “My wife is going to have your squashed nuts in her head now.”
“Better my squashed nuts than your real nuts,” Pete says. “I do have awesome nuts.”
“That’s not what Reagan says,” Peck taunts. This is one of the many reasons why I love her so much. She can keep up with my family.
“Oh,” I sing out, “Reagan dissed your nuts!”
“Reagan!” Pete yells.
Reagan pops her head around the corner and rolls her eyes at Pete. “What?”
“Have you been dissing my nuts?” Pete asks.
“Is that what you call what I did with them last night?” She grins at him.
Pete’s face turns red. “No, that’s called—”