Christmas on 4th Street: Christmas on 4th Street / Yours for Christmas

“It’s real music. Not everyone wants to listen to LL Cool J.”

“Then they’re missing out. Carter prefers my music over yours.”

His brother leaned his head back. “You’re guessing.”

“Maybe, but I’m right.”

“Everyone has flaws.” His brother turned toward him. “He’s impressive, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to take credit, but I can’t,” Gideon admitted. “It was all his mother. She did better than I ever could have. Then she got sick. That forced him to grow up fast.”

“Does he talk about her much?”

“Some. Felicia’s fine with it. She encourages him to make sure he has her picture around and that he tells stories about her. Keeping the memories fresh.”

“She’s great, too.”

Gideon nodded. “I can’t explain why she loves me, but she does. She’s fiercely loyal. Determined. When I was ready to give up on being part of a family, she wouldn’t. She was willing to take Carter and raise him herself.” He sounded impressed and a little in awe. “I didn’t want to let her in, but I couldn’t help myself. And once I stopped trying to fight her, it was easy to admit how much I loved her.”

Gabriel understood the concept of family. He’d been in one, had friends with families. He got that people loved each other. Some bonds couldn’t be avoided, but romantic love? It wasn’t worth the trouble. Life was tenuous. It could be over in an instant, so why bother?

“You’ve come a long way,” he said instead.

“I didn’t think I could make it,” Gideon told him. “But this damned town healed me. I can’t say how, but it did. I started to get involved.” He chuckled. “There are festivals practically every weekend. Wait until you see how they celebrate Christmas here. It’s an eye-opener.” He turned to his brother. “I know you only came because you got injured, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Gabriel was having trouble keeping up. As a kid Gideon had been open and friendly, but his time in Special Forces had changed him. The adult Gideon he knew was a taciturn soldier—a man who would rather cut off his right arm than discuss his feelings. Yet here he was, talking about belonging and love and connection.

“I should check the back of your neck for some kind of pod,” he mumbled.

Gideon laughed again. “I haven’t been taken over by aliens. I’m who I always was. Before everything else happened.” His humor faded. “Sometimes it’s hard, but Carter and Felicia are patient with me. I get through.”

Which sounded rational, Gabriel thought. Not like his brother, but healthy. “What happens next?” he asked.

His brother took a swallow of his beer. “We survive the parents’ visit.”

Something Gabriel didn’t want to think about. “How long will they be here?”

“Through Christmas. They have a vacation rental in town. They won’t be living here.”

“That’s something.” He couldn’t take too much of their old man.

“How you feeling?” Gideon asked.

Gabriel was about to point out that not everyone wanted to share at this meeting when he realized his brother was looking at his hand.

“It hurts.”

“What happened?”

Gabriel settled deeper into the chair. “A bunch of nineteen-year-olds got drunk.”

“It always starts that way.”

“You know it. My patient and his buddies got in a fight and one of them went through a plate glass window. They drove him directly to the hospital, which saved his life. There was a large piece of glass and I forgot I didn’t have superpowers and pulled it out bare-handed.”

The move had been stupid. He knew it and everyone in the E.R. had known it, too. One second he’d been a rational doctor, doing what had to be done to save his patient, and the next he’d been spurting blood everywhere.

Gideon raised his bottle. “We all have moments.”

“Not like that.” He’d tried to keep working on the teen, but there was no way. His team had stepped in and another doctor had seen to the kid. Gabriel had stabilized his own bleeding until the crisis was over and he could be looked at without endangering anyone. Unfortunately, he’d lost more blood than anyone had realized.

“I ended up having to be admitted myself,” he grumbled, then swore. “What was I thinking?”

“You weren’t,” his brother reminded him. “You were reacting.”

“Not well and not in the right way.” There was no point in reliving a past he couldn’t change. “I was lucky—there’s no permanent damage. It hurts like a son of a bitch. My CO told me it was time to go home on leave, so here I am.” Otherwise he would have worked through the holidays, like he did every year. He always volunteered to stay so others could be with their families. This time he hadn’t had a choice.

“I’m sorry you got hurt, but I’m glad you’re here,” Gideon told him.

“You want someone to take the pressure off with Dad around.”

“That, too. Although I figure we can throw Carter in his direction. From what everyone tells me, grandparents can’t resist grandkids.”

An interesting plan. “You’re not worried about what the old man might do to your kid?”

Gideon smiled. “Nope. Felicia will protect him. She’s tough and fierce. I wouldn’t want to go up against her.”

“Good to know. Then I’ll stay out of her way.”

“Just don’t threaten Carter and me and you’ll be fine. Oh, I guess the dog falls under that umbrella now.”

Gabriel started to say something, but the word umbrella reminded him of the woman he’d met earlier. Noelle, who’d been willing to defend her friend’s house with nothing more than bravado and an umbrella.

He was glad she’d seen the error of her attack. Had there been a real intruder, she would have been in trouble. But he’d been no threat and he had to admit she’d been an unexpected distraction.

For a moment he allowed himself to wonder how his evening would have been different if she’d been the one sitting out here with him instead of his brother. He grinned. For one thing, they wouldn’t be so far apart. And they sure wouldn’t be talking.

“What are your plans for after the holidays?” Gideon asked. “Staying in?”

By in his brother meant the army. His smile faded.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

He’d always planned to stick around long enough to get his twenty years. He would still be young enough to move into a regular job at a hospital. But lately, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Or could.

It was the flights, he thought grimly. Those years of shepherding injured soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan. They were in no position to be moved, but needed the more intense care only a permanent military hospital could provide. So they were patched up and flown out. He and his team spent the hours dealing with one crisis after another. The conditions were cramped, the patients critical. Space and weight limited the equipment.