Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)
Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 12

You would think I would learn my lesson, that my instincts were never correct, that my impulses led only to disaster.

What I should have done was sit in that café and told Anderson we were over, blackmail was off the table, pay me my fifteen grand, have a merry Christmas and a nice life, and stay out of mine.

Then I would have spent my free time hunting for a job so I wouldn’t get evicted on the night before Christmas.

Instead, in between prepping the snacks for the Christmas tree cutting, I racked my brain for any scrap of information I could give Anderson to help clear my name.

Though I’d made a fabulous lunch and Pinterest-worthy snack bags, maybe I should have spent more time on the job hunt, because it was clear from my measly half page of notes that I was kidding myself if I thought Anderson was going to make any headway on clearing my name.

He was right.

The trail was cold.

I’d spent months after last Christmas poring over everything, trying to replace any shred of evidence to clear my name.

Short of tying him up and torturing a confession out of Braeden, I didn’t see how Anderson was going to replace proof that my ex was lying.

I slammed the cabinet door closed.

My mother appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Evie, the triplets have a big day tomorrow, and I really need you to check the attitude.”

“I’m not,” I protested, feeling like a little kid again. “I’m just trying to replace—”

“I don’t care, Evie. Brooke Taylor was my roommate at Brown University. I want this house and my children to look perfect for when she comes to film her update on the girls.”

I bit back my argument. “Sure thing, Mom.”

The picnic basket I needed wasn’t even in the kitchen.

I tried not to hold the triplets’ position in the family as the favored daughters against them. I really did.

Ian would never be able to make peace with Henry’s position as the favorite son, but I was really striving to stay in my lane. However, I would have given anything to be in their place just so that Brooke Taylor would be coming to film a big holiday special about me.

I fantasized about it as I climbed up the three flights of stairs to the attic.

Brooke was the ultimate cool girl—awesome talk show host who had dabbled in acting and had her own makeup line. When I was a kid, Brooke Taylor was who I had secretly wished was my birth mom.

But I would never be as exciting as identical redheaded triplets.

When they were born, Brooke had used a segment about my younger sisters and Mom to launch her talk show into the stratosphere. The segment had been an early viral video pre-YouTube. Brooke liked to do updates on them periodically.

Now that the three famous Murphy triplets had graduated early and were on their way to a fabulous new life? Who didn’t want that wholesome holiday content?

The woven wicker snowman-shaped picnic basket was wedged in the back of the attic, wrapped in a blanket. I blew the dust off, snapped a photo, and sent it to the Murphy Misfits group text.

I hauled the oversize snowman picnic basket downstairs. It had been a gift from my father to my mom when I was little and included a set of custom plates and utensils that were snowman themed.

For all of Anderson’s faults, I wished he was there at that moment just to carry the heavy, bulky basket downstairs. He at least had longer arms than me.

Not that I would ever actually consider dating him, murderer or not.

I started stacking the carefully wrapped Christmas sandwiches made with leftover smoked turkey from the holiday party, spicy stuffing, cranberry sauce, and gravy.

A doughy hand reached around me to grab one of the sandwiches.

“Don’t touch that.”

Braeden ignored me and unwrapped the Christmas-wreath-decorated butcher paper encasing the sandwich.

“Those are for the picnic.” I ground my teeth.

He took a noisy bite. “You got any of those éclairs, you know, the ones I like?” My ex smirked at me.

I hadn’t been alone with him, not all year, not since two days before that fateful Christmas Eve where he’d blown up my life. I hadn’t wanted to face him or the probability that my family would see me alone with him as a scarlet admission of guilt.

Now here he was.

I didn’t feel any of those warm, fuzzy feelings from back when we would lie in bed, daydreaming about our future.

All I felt was the cold-snow-down-your-neck realization that Anderson was absolutely right. He was an evil bastard and on Santa’s naughty list, but he was right.

Braeden was enjoying this, enjoying breaking me down, tormenting me. He liked winning. He liked knowing that he had complete control of my life.

Maybe if I could get a confession out of him on video, then all this—Anderson, my parents’ disappointment, my family’s anger—could all just go away.

Trying to be subtle, I felt around in my pocket for my phone.

“You mean the ones I made you to celebrate your big bonus?” I croaked. “The Holiday Eggnog Éclairs?”

Braeden laughed. “You wore that little elf outfit. You were so horny for me. I should have known you’d spread yourself for someone like Anderson. I bet all he had to do was lie to you and call you pretty, and you put out for him, didn’t you?”

There was something unsettling about his gaze. Jealousy? Envy?

“I’m surprised you remember, considering you seem to have forgotten everything else about us.”

“I knew you still missed me.” Grabbing an éclair, he winked at me. It was not anywhere near as sexy as Anderson’s. “Don’t worry. Keep trying, and maybe I’ll take you back or at least give you a pity fuck. Depends on how much you beg.”

Hands shaking, I finished packing the basket after he left. I hadn’t been able to get my phone to record in time. I should see if Anderson had a mini tape recorder.

“You should have brought your big, hunky boyfriend to come carry that for you,” Alana joked as I lugged the basket out to the car.

“We will not make light of Evie’s bad behavior.”

The triplets shrank under my mom’s gaze.

“Evie is a bad influence on you three.”

When you came from a big family, you didn’t all fit in one car. Sure, you could buy a minibus, but my dad wasn’t going to be caught dead in a sprinter van, and so the family split into multiple SUVs.

I had been left after the rest of the cars took off, lugging the large container of spiced hot chocolate. I used a little bit of chili pepper to give it some kick.

Now I was wedged in the very back of Henry’s car with the snowman picnic basket, an irate Snowball, several Irish setters, and the various tools needed to cut down the trees to decorate the house in time, not for Santa but for Brooke Taylor.

I stared ice daggers worthy of Elsa from Frozen at the back of Braeden’s head.

Why now? Why was he showing his hand now?

Because he saw that he had finally succeeded in turning my family against me. Now all that was left for him was to roll around in the spoils of my ruined life.

Dramatic? Sure, but then, I’d just been gaslit for the last year. I was owed it.

The jeep jumped over a rut in the road.

Off in the trees, I thought I saw a dark shadow move.

I’m losing it. I’m going crazy.

I desperately wanted to talk to someone. Scratch that. I wanted to talk to Anderson. Sure, it was cathartic to complain to Ian and Sawyer, but Anderson had a plan. Anderson was going to help.

You’re going down, Braeden.

Henry pulled up to the circle of cars in the clearing. All we needed were the giant bows to make this Christmas-tree-cutting outing look like a holiday car commercial.

I stumbled out of the car after Snowball, who saw something in the trees and immediately raced off into the woods.

The magnificent Irish setters loped gracefully through the snow over to my father while I dragged the picnic paraphernalia to a nearby table that overlooked the rushing water that gave Maplewood Falls its name.

All under the angry gaze of Felicity.

“Of course you snuck your way into the car with my fiancé.” She hovered behind me as I cleared snow off one of the picnic tables.

“He wormed his way in there with me,” I argued then clamped my mouth shut.

I finally had a potential way to get Braeden to admit he had been gaslighting me. I didn’t want to tip him off.

“I mean, it was just an honest mistake, Felicity.”

“It better not happen again,” she warned me, nose in the air.

I passed out steaming cups of hot chocolate as my family milled around, snapping photos of the wintery landscape backdropped by the snowy falls.

Several of my cousins bounded over to the picnic basket and loaded up on snacks while my mom handed out assignments for the Christmas tree event.

“Everyone, pick out a tree. We need a large one in the living room, then I want one in the foyer, one in the dining room, and one in the sitting area upstairs.” My mother straightened, and you could see where Ian inherited his dancer’s posture. “Evie’s replaceing greenery. We need garland for the banisters, the mantel, wreaths.” My mother ticked off the list.

I didn’t mind that I wasn’t selecting a tree. I was just happy to be out soaking in the festive atmosphere. It was just what I needed to recover from Anderson… and all that caffeine and sugar I’d consumed.

As If I’d summoned the demon himself, a black shadow materialized in the shadow of the trees behind my mother.

Black skullcap over his dark hair, rifle slung over one shoulder along with a large backpack, scarf partially obscuring his mouth—Anderson stepped out of the forest.

“He’s here to murder us all.” Grandma Shirley pressed a trembling hand to her chest.

“He can murder me any day!” Nat giggled.

“If he brought booze, he can stay. My nipples are freezing off,” Granny Doyle complained.

“This is a private event,” my mother declared.

Anderson’s silvery-gray eyes slid over her to me.

“Did you get a permit?”

My mom’s lips thinned.

He adjusted the rifle and stalked through the snowy clearing over to me.

“This” —he held out a glove, from which a tiny, growling white dog hung—“belongs to you, I think.”

“She ran off,” I explained weakly, trying to detach Snowball from Anderson.

“Are you stalking Evie?” Alana asked.

Henry glared at her.

Anderson gave my younger sister a bemused look. “Of course not.” He turned back to me. “You left the fridge open, by the way.”

I desperately wanted to tell him what Braeden had said.

I hesitated, then I threw my arms around his neck. He grunted in surprise, then his hands slid down my red coat to rest on my hips.

“I think I have a breakthrough. We need to meet in private,” I whispered in his ear. I thought I felt him shiver, but it was probably my imagination.

“I’ll tell you when.” The stubble on his jaw was rough against my cheek as he pulled away.

For that brief second, it was like we were the only two people in the world.

I shook off the feeling. Anderson was my mortal enemy. We were working together because the enemy of my enemy, yada yada, but I needed to stay focused. I had run out of fuckups.

My mother cleared her throat pointedly.

“Do you want some hot chocolate or a sandwich before you go?” I offered.

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” my mom said firmly.

“I’m good,” Anderson said.

“I made extra. You can’t tramp around the woods on an empty stomach.”

Stop it, Evie.

I could feel the anger rising within my parents, but it was bumping up against my pathological need to feed people.

I stuffed a wrapped sandwich half into Anderson’s pocket. He gave me an odd look then hoisted the rifle over his shoulder.

“Sorry.” The apology was whispered as soon as Anderson melted back into the trees.

My mother didn’t acknowledge the words.

“Henry, don’t forget I want to get your photo for the Christmas card.”

I headed in the opposite direction from my family. The freshly fallen snow crunched under my feet. The scent of maple trees and smoky fires from distant cabins transported me to a peaceful, perfect Christmas wonderland.

I loved coming up here and wished I could have a big house on the lake like my uncle.

Snowball practically disappeared against all the white as she bounced through the powdery snow.

I dragged a sleigh behind me, heading deep into the woods, and trimmed off the best-looking boughs for garland, including juniper and other evergreens. The sharp scent of pine really made it feel like Christmas.

The trees were all loaded on the cars by the time I dragged the overflowing sleigh back to Henry’s Jeep.

“Did you get any boxwood?” my mother asked, surveying the boughs as the triplets helped me load them into the back of Henry’s car.

“I saw some a little way back. I’ll grab some,” I promised, making sure my shears were in my pocket.

I hurried off to the boxwood I’d seen. They were just going to be accent pieces, so I was able to clip enough. Hoisting the bundle onto my shoulders, I tramped back through the snow to the clearing.

The empty clearing.

“Hello?” I stood in the silence, snow falling around me. “Anyone there? Hello?”

Did they really leave me?