This One’s For You Read online

  “Let’s start the game,” Damon said, focusing back on the game. “Think you got it, Owen?”

  “I’m sure I’ll pick it up quick,” he answered.

  “Good.” Damon smiled. “I’ll be the dealer.”

  “What?” The twins shouted at the same time.

  Trevor shrank back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly unhappy with the idea of Damon being the dealer. Trent decided to voice his opinion verbally.

  “You always get to be the dealer. Which is why you always win. Let someone else be the dealer for a turn.”

  “Fine.” Damon gave in. He slid the cards across the table to me. “Brennan’s the dealer.”

  Trent grumbled to the left of me. Something about how it wasn’t fair. Simply put, he was pouting like the big baby he really was.

  “At least, you’re not second to last in the rotation,” Trevor spoke up.

  He sat between Owen, who was to the right of me, and Damon. Next to being last, it was the worst place to be at the table. He had to wait for the cards to reach him, which meant that one of us—myself, Trent, or Damon—had a higher chance of getting our matches first. And that he’d have to fight for a spoon.

  “On one condition,” I said, pulling the deck toward me. “Let’s take it easy the first game. Owen has no idea what he’s about to get into.”

  I glanced over at Owen, who shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Watching him squirm brought a mischievous grin to my face. Four boys against one girl. But I was the dealer, there was no way I was going down without a fight. Even if that meant breaking a few fingers along the way.

  Game on.

  Owen won the first round, in fact, he won every game. By the fifth game, I could see my brothers growing irritated. I wasn’t sure if they were purposely letting him win or not, but they were growing tired of losing. So far, everyone had managed to escape with minor injuries.

  I’m sure that Trevor was going to have a pretty nasty black eye come tomorrow. Things had gotten a little too heated between him and Trent. They were wrestling on the ground over a spoon. Trent yanked the spoon, and his elbow flew backward, connecting with Trevor’s eye socket. My brothers were ridiculous.

  I grabbed the cards, started to shuffle them, and prepared for the next round. I dealt everyone their hand, and started the same process again. I paid more attention to Owen, then I did my own cards.

  We had already made it through half the deck of cards when I spotted Owen’s hand trying to sneak toward the spoons in the center of the table. As soon as his hands wrapped around the silver handle, I flew out of my seat, and snatched one while I could.

  The sudden movement sent the rest of the table in a craze. Damon grabbed his spoon quickly, leaving the twins to fight over the spoon once again.

  “Give it to me, you little punk,” Trent shouted, lunging from his seat.

  The three of us backed away, laughing and shaking our heads, as they fell to the floor for the hundredth time. They were grappling, trying to outmaneuver one another. Both of them had a tight grip on the spoon, pulling it back and forth between another, and not backing down.

  “Five seconds,” Damon called out the time. The next five seconds seemed to last a lifetime. Both of them, still not wanting to give in. “And time!”

  Despite the time being called, they weren’t stopping. The air was filled with loud grunts and obscene language. It was starting to get out of control. Trevor was lying on his stomach with Trent’s arm trapped underneath him, still keeping a firm grip on the spoon. Someone had to do something. If Trevor rolled over on top of Trent, I had a feeling that this time it’d be a broken arm instead of fingers. There was no way Trent’s arm would survive being bent at the angle it would be if Trevor flipped on his back.

  “Okay!” I shouted. “That’s enough.”

  Trent seemed to give up after that. Trevor shot onto his feet and started to run around the family room, celebrating. My brother’s face was redder than an apple as he picked his chair up and took a seat.

  “This is such bullshit,” he grumbled.

  I sat down and patted his shoulder. “Aww, someone’s being a sore loser, isn’t he?”

  “How does Owen keep getting a four of a kind first?” Trent said. He looked at Owen, studying him carefully, before rising out of his chair again. “I’m done with this game.”

  My body shook with thunderous laughter as I watched him stalk out of the room. I felt Owen come closer to me and looked up to him. He smiled and nudged me with his arm.

  “Someone doesn’t like to lose, huh?” he asked.

  Damon clapped a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “No, he doesn’t. And when he does, he sobs like the big baby he really is.”

  “I would’ve hated to see them after we played them last month,” Owen replied, glancing at my brother.

  Trevor finally stopped his victory dance and decided to join us. He slammed the spoon down on top of the card table, his final way of basking in the win. When he looked up from the table, his face was blank of expression, and his sight set on Owen.

  “We’re going to wipe your Ducks in the mud next year,” he said, as serious as I’ve ever seen him.

  Owen’s hearty laugh echoed throughout the room. He bent over, clutching his stomach, and continued to laugh harder. It took him several seconds before he finally got himself under the control.

  “Let’s bet on it,” he said, staring Trevor down. “Fifty bucks that Oregon beats UW by at least two touchdowns.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sure it’ll be more than that, though.”

  “Make it a hundred and you’ve got a deal,” Trevor replied, sticking out his hand.

  Owen took his hand, firmly shaking on the bet. Damon let out a whistle and shook his head. We all looked to him.

  “You’re a fool, Trevor,” he said. “I love UW, but if you think they stand a chance against Oregon, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  Damon was right. Over the last several years, Oregon’s football program had steadily become a powerhouse. This year, there was talk that they were at their prime and were taking it all. I wouldn’t be surprised; the quarterback they had was hands down the best player to come along in a long time and recently won the Heisman trophy.

  “We’ll see about that,” Trevor snapped, turning toward the staircase. He took two at a time, and before long, all we could hear was the patter of his feet.

  Football was a serious and sensitive subject in the Daniels’ household. Both of my brothers were convinced that this was the year they were going to shine. And this year they did, just not against my school. Damon and Owen talked for a few minutes about football before he excused himself, leaving the two of us alone.

  “Finally,” I murmured under my breath. “I tried to warn you that my brothers were crazy.”

  He laughed and stepped closer to me. “I think crazy is putting it lightly. I understand why the game has been banned from the house.”

  “You seemed to hold yourself pretty well, Mr. Wins-every-game.”

  He shrugged his shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal. “What now?” he asked.

  “Now, we do what we planned to do this morning,” I answered playfully. He tilted his head to the side, like he had forgotten what we were going to do. “Sit out on the dock.”

  I opened the door and the cool, Pacific Northwest air whipped across my face as a strong wind kicked up. I hesitated for a moment, debating whether we should grab some jackets.

  I stepped outside, instantly shivering. I heard the door close behind me and felt an arm slip around my shoulder. Owen pulled me close, and I wrapped my arms around him. The closeness of our bodies didn’t do much to warm me, but I didn’t care. It felt nice to be in his arms. We started to walk down the path toward the water.

  The wind picked up more, blowing my hair into my face. I looked to the sky, saw the dark clouds creeping in, and hoped it wouldn’t start to rain anytime soon. With each step, I was regretting my decision not to put on a jacket.

 
; “Hold on,” I said, pulling out of his arm.

  I looked at the little boathouse to the right as we approached the water’s edge. I crossed the short distance in quick, determined steps. I headed toward the shelf along the back wall, pulling a blanket down from the top shelf, and jumped out of the way when a few other blankets decided to tag along.

  A thankful grin appeared on Owen’s face when he saw the plush woven blanket. The navy material had faint traces of stale cigars, reminding me of the last time we were out on the boat. My gramps had used this very blanket, draping it around his shoulders, and puffed on cigars.

  We continued our way to the dock, down the end, and took the same place as last night. Owen didn’t have to say anything or make a move, I nestled myself right into the crook of his arm as if it were the most natural thing I’d done. He covered our legs with the blanket, and I pulled it up to my chin. A flock of geese honked as they flew by, skimming over the surface of the water, creating ripples as they went.

  And though the sky was gloomy, and it was bone-chilling cold out, it was still the most peaceful place I could think of. I’d sit right there, in his arms, and never leave again, if I could. It brought me as much comfort as the sound of Owen’s heart beating in his chest under me did.

  “I have a confession to make,” Owen whispered, his lips brushing along my hairline. I snuggled in closer, if it were even possible. “I knew what Spoons was the entire time.”

  I jerked away and looked at his face. “Excuse me.”

  “You’re looking at the Spoons champion of summer camp five years running.”

  My jaw hung slightly open. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I laughed softly. “You went to summer camp?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, soccer camp when I was a kid.”

  I chewed on this new information. I knew he played soccer, so it wasn’t a surprise that he might’ve gone to camps for it. But the revelation of him being the Spoons champion, well, I wasn’t expecting that. Let alone the fact that he managed to convince everyone he didn’t have the slightest clue what the game was. A pretty brilliant move, if you’d ask me.

  “You sneaky, sneaky boy,” I teased, poking him in the side. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back in. “So, let me see if I got this straight . . .  Not only are you a donut master, which is still debatable in my book, but you’re apparently the undefeated Spoons champ at soccer camp. Anything else I should know?”

  “Well, to be honest,” he replied. “There’s one other thing I should tell you.”

  “And that is?”

  “My grandma used cinnamon in her hot chocolate when I was a kid too.”

  I broke into a fit of laughter. My sides were aching from the loud giggles escaping me. The guy was really an enigma. Just when I thought I might’ve figured him out, he surprised me yet again. It was that moment when I realized that this was not over not by a long shot. By us coming here, it was only the beginning, and for once I wasn’t afraid to feel something.

  I reached up and pressed my lips to the corner of his. He inhaled a sharp breath, and his eyes fell on me. The energy between us was vibrating through my bones. I licked my lips, wanting, and needing, more.

  Owen’s lips hovered over mine, and I was all but begging for him to kiss me. He sighed and pressed his forehead against mine. He squeezed his arms tightly around me.

  “Why?” I asked, breathlessly.

  “Because when I kiss you, and I will . . .” he answered softly, staring at me with his big, green eyes. “I want you to be positive that mine are the last lips you ever kiss.”

  My heart fluttered at his words. I closed my eyes, and for the first time I felt something other than the anger and sadness I’d been carrying around with me—I felt happy. And I never wanted to let the feeling go.

  We sat there until the first raindrops fell from the night sky. By the time we reached the house, we were drenched to the bone. We laughed as we headed toward my room. I let Owen use my bathroom to shower, and I used one down the hall.

  As I returned to my room, rejuvenated and in dry clothes, I felt like I was floating on cloud nine. I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but things were changing—on the inside. I wanted to open up. I wanted the old Brennan back, and though I didn’t know where to start, all that mattered was that I was willing to try.

  Owen had his back to me when I reentered my room. I made quick strides toward him, and threw my arms around him. He groaned softly, before turning in my arms. I stared up at him, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For coming here with me.”

  He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

  ***

  “Merry Christmas,” I heard Owen whisper in my ear.

  I opened my eyes and met Owen’s gaze. I groaned and pulled my blankets back over my head.

  Grams and my mother had kept everyone busy from the time we woke up yesterday to the time I collapsed on my bed. I wasn’t sure if the sun was even out when she made her rounds with a pot and metal spoon, clanking them together, and waking the entire household up.

  We gathered in the living room, and she announced that it was time to decorate the tree—a Daniels’ Christmas Eve tradition. My father made his infamous hot chocolate, and it took everything for me not to laugh while we drank it. I didn’t have the heart to break the news that he wasn’t the only one who used his “secret” ingredient. He was proud of it.

  After the tree was done, the men and women were sent to separate rooms to finish wrapping gifts. Then it was time to decorate sugar cookies and make gingerbread houses for the family competition. Owen and I teamed up together, thinking two minds were better than one, and the results were disastrous. By the time we were done, in less than three seconds, the house had collapsed. Apparently we used too much frosting, and learned the very important meaning of “less is more.”

  My mother had us do other random things around the house. Trent was in charge of putting together a playlist to play all day on Christmas, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about what that playlist would consist of. System of a Down wasn’t really Christmassy music.

  My two other brothers assisted our father with stringing up lights throughout the house—my mother wanted every room to have some. Owen and I set up the Christmas village down in the family room. When all was said and done, we met up with a rather large group of people and went caroling through the neighborhood. I was pretty certain that by the time we were done, we had walked over ten miles.

  I was exhausted.

  “Brennan,” Owen said, using a baby voice. My bed dipped as he started to bounce up and down. “It’s Christmas! Wake up!”

  I pulled the covers from my face. Owen’s face was lit up like a little kid in a candy store. His cheerful excitement was annoying in a cute way. One that only Owen could pull off and not drive me crazy. I jumped at the sound of my door slamming.

  “You guys aren’t up yet?” Trevor said, walking into my room like he owned the place.

  “I’ve been trying to get her up for the past twenty minutes,” Owen replied.

  “Oh no, I’m not going to wait all day to open presents because you’re tired.” Trevor said, approaching the bed. He motioned for Owen to move. In one quick motion, he managed to lift my mattress up and dump me over the side of it. I crashed to the floor with a loud bang and started to laugh. It wasn’t the first time he had done this. “Now, you’re outta bed. There’s no excuse not to get dressed. We’re all waiting on you.”

  Trevor left the room. I stared daggers into the back of his head and hoped that he would trip over his feet. He managed to glide out of my room, unharmed, and still upright.

  I laid down on the floor and closed my eyes. I heard the muffled sounds of Owen’s footfalls on the carpet and curled into a ball.

  “Time to get up, Brennan.”

  I moaned, pulling my knees toward my chest. �
��Just five more minutes, please,” I whined.

  “I don’t think you want Trevor or any of your other brothers to come back in here, do you?” I let out a pitiful cry, rolled over onto my back, and stared up at him.

  “No,” I pouted. He narrowed his eyes at my lack of movement, and I sighed heavily. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head slightly. “Fine,” I said. “I’m getting up.”

  I held my hand out to him, and he helped me off the floor. I went to the closet and pulled out what I was looking for. Grabbing a pair of leggings, I headed into the bathroom to get dressed.

  I stared at the Christmas sweater: a bright blue fabric with snowflakes printed on it. It wasn’t ugly, not in the slightest bit. In fact, it was absolutely adorable. I loved it. I was just starting to feel a little embarrassed about how over the top my family was when it came to Christmas. We all wore sweaters while opening presents; it was nothing new.

  I left the bathroom and walked in on Owen pulling a sweater over his head. I tried not to laugh at the blue sweater with a large reindeer on it. In the center was a bright red circle, taking place of its nose. I was surprised that he had a sweater, and I could see the frown he was trying to hide.

  “Apparently, your grandmother decided that I needed to wear a sweater too,” he said.

  I stifled the laughter rising in my chest. “It looks cute.”

  “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” he replied. “Oh, and she got me these.” He held up a pair of elf ears.

  I couldn’t contain the laughter as he placed the headband on his head, making him look like an elf indeed. He pulled his eyebrows together. “Not funny.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, between each laugh. “I promise I’m not laughing at you. You look so darn cute with those pointy little ears.” I laughed harder.

  “Oh yeah?” he retorted. “Well, you won’t be laughing long, because you have a pair too. If I have to wear them, so do you.”

  Owen picked up a pair of ears resting on top of my mattress. He closed the distance between us and stopped just inches away. I could feel the heat radiating off of him, and inhaled his scent. He placed the ears on me and chuckled softly. He brushed my bangs out of my eyes and took a step back.