Redeeming (Red Lips & White Lies Book 2)
Redeeming: Part 3 – Chapter 21

Callen

Are any of you available?

Killian

I’m around.

Leo

Me too.

Nixon

Like right now? Give me an hour. We’ve got a day off and Kenzie should be home for lunch any minute.

Leo

So what? You’re going to cook her lunch?

Nixon

No, asshat. I’m going to eat her for lunch.

Callen

Does anyone have a ladder?

“Where did you say Caitlin is?” Killian asks from the bottom of the ladder as he hands me the next string of white icicle lights Cait picked out to be strung along the edge of the roof.

“Her friend Addie lives around the corner in the old Winbury bed and breakfast. Jude drove her there. I’m surprised she even told me where she was going,” I admit, frustrated. Who’d have thought hanging lights would be hard.

“I thought the old lady that owned that place died,” Nixon asks.

“All I know is Cait’s friend lives there now. She’s barely talking to me. So it’s not like I’m getting a full story.” Fuck. I almost staple my finger to the shingles.

“Can somebody tell me why we’re doing this again?” Leo hangs green garland strung with white lights along the porch railing. “Pretty sure this isn’t getting you laid, Uncle.”

He’s not wrong.

There’s no chance of that happening. But I’m not trying to get laid. I’m trying to earn back her trust so I can win back her heart.

“Because it’s what she wanted, and it’s Christmas. Or how about because I’m leaving her alone while I play a game on the other side of the damn country that day, and I’m pretty sure she’s skipping her family’s Christmas, in case I didn’t already feel like a big enough asshole.” I groan and look at the still half-empty roof. Who knew this shit took this long to do?

“Just saying, but I’m pretty sure you not being here is the best present you could give her.”

Fucking Leo.

“Dude. Do you ever hear the shit you spew?” Nix gets the wreath hung on the door, then moves to help Leo with the garland. “Do you have ribbons or something she wants with this?”

“What the hell do you know about ribbons, Nixon?” Killian questions as he unravels the next strand for me.

“More than you three, since Kenzie had me do this shit the day after Thanksgiving. Apparently, ribbons are important. And according to Kenzie, they should be red or gold. And if they’re red, there are only a few acceptable shades.” He has the next string of garland up in half the time it was taking Leo. “My girl gave me a dissertation on the importance of it all as we got this shit set up.”

“Was it worth it?” Killian eggs him on, but Nixon doesn’t give a shit.

“Let’s just say there are a lot of uses for ribbons,” Nix answers, and Kill whistles.

“Okay. I hear ya.” Leo laughs. “Dude, do you have ribbons?”

Fuck. That might have been the only thing Caitlin didn’t buy today. “I don’t think so.”

“Kenzie got hers from that place right off Main Street. You think they’re still open?” Nix straightens the wreath and looks at us all like we should know the answer to that.

Leo holds up his phone. “For another hour.”

“Let’s roll, men.” Killian pulls out his keys.

Two hours, a shit ton of ribbon, lights, and green garland later, and the house looks like something out of one of those Hallmark Christmas movies my mom likes to watch. Minus the bows. We got the ribbons, and they’re tied in something, but I wouldn’t exactly call them bows. Apparently, four athletes who all have to tie skates, or cleats, or wrestling shoes, can’t tie a bow to save our fucking lives. They’re tied but they look like ass. Well-intentioned ass. But ass all the same.

And if I’ve learned anything since this woman moved in, it’s that intention doesn’t matter to her. Action does. Guess we’ll see how this goes.

Caitlin

“And then what?” Adelaide’s sister, Coraline, asks from the other end of the softest couch I’ve ever sat on, a glass of wine in one hand and a chocolate chip cookie in the other— because baking fixes everything.

“And then nothing. I left and came here. I’ve been here since.”

“And then she baked. Where do you think the cookies came from?” Addie answers as she dumps leftover chocolate chips in her warm bowl of popcorn, and Coraline almost spits out her wine.

“Not from you. That’s for sure. These are actually good.” She studies the cookie like it holds the answers to the world’s greatest mysteries in its ingredients, then pops the rest in her mouth. “Your mom owns the bakery in town, right?”

I nod and dip my cookie in my milk—because no wine for me.

Another thing that’s Callen’s fault.

He’s just racking them up now.

Addie tosses popcorn in her mouth, then licks the melted chocolate from her fingertips. “Her family owns everything in town. You’ll get used to it.”

“Do you guys own The Busy Bee? I put in an application there today. They legit have the best strawberry shake I’ve ever had.”

“Right? They really do. And no, well not exactly. My uncle’s wife’s grandfather owns it, but someone else runs it for him now.” I eye Addie’s popcorn and decide I’m craving salt more than sweet right now. Which leads me back to my earlier pin from lunch at The Busy Bee. “I need your opinions, ladies. Am I allowed to send Callen out on cravings runs?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Coraline asks as she sips her wine, confused, and Addie throws popcorn at her head.

“Try to keep up and try to slow down on the wine. You’re not twenty-one yet.” She swings her own glass between her and me and delves into my dysfunction, trying to break it down for Coraline, who’s only been in town a few days. “She loves him. He loves her. It’s been years in the making. Totally epic love kind of shit. He fucked up. Like big-time fucked up. Kinda the biggest. Now she’s pregnant with his baby, and he’s kissing her ass because it turns out, it’s really all her big, scary, DILF-y dad’s fault.” Adelaide giggles. “Oh, and don’t forget her hot-as-fuck brother is his best friend, and they got in a fight over her.” She looks at me and smiles. “That about sum it up?”

I rub my temples, unsure whether to be bothered or impressed by all of that.

“Seriously, Caitlin. If I wrote this in a book, my readers would tell me it wasn’t believable,” she muses, and Coraline laughs . . . hard.

“Your readers wouldn’t care as long as the sex was good.” She taps her glass to her sister’s, and I whimper internally. I miss wine. “Was the sex good?”

My entire body heats at the thought. “The sex was incredible. Just short-lived.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Two pump chumps ruin it for everyone.” Coraline looks completely heartbroken for me, and Addie spits her wine out all over the coffee table.

“Oh my God . . .” She laughs uncontrollably while she wipes up her mess with a napkin. “She said it was incredible. Would it be incredible if he had a stamina issue?”

I roll my eyes. This might be the first time I’ve ever seen Adelaide buzzed, and she’s a funny drunk. “He didn’t have a stamina issue. There were no chumps. He had a timing issue. Literally. We were only together a few days when everything fell apart.”

Good lord, what I wouldn’t give to have his hands on my body again.

“So use him,” Coraline offers like it’s the most completely logical conclusion.

“Shit. Did I say that out loud?” I ask, mortified. My sex-starved brain needs to shut up. “Nobody tells you how horny you are when you’re pregnant.”

“They kinda do.” Addie snorts. “Haven’t you ever watched TV or read a romance novel? Everybody talks about how horny you get while you’re pregnant.”

“Yeah,” Coraline agrees. “And how good the sex is.”

I guess it can get worse.

“How would you know?” Addie glares at her sister.

“Chill out, lightweight. I’ve never been pregnant. I just read your books and watch movies. Way too much Netflix.”

Addie seems satisfied with that answer and points at me. “You live with him. You can’t get more pregnant. Just have sex with him.”

It’s his fault I’m pregnant in the first place.

Which does technically make it his fault I can’t stop thinking about sex . . . and orgasms. And kissing. My God, I miss his lips.

“Do you have a picture? I need to see this man.” Coraline stares at me. Her big, doe eyes framed by mile-long lashes blink up at me, demanding to see.

I pull up a selfie I took of us at West End on my birthday and hand it to Coraline, and she immediately jumps up from the couch. “Shut up.”

“Oh please, dear God, I promise I will never say anything bad about anyone ever again if you do not tell me that you slept with Callen Sinclair,” I beg.

I don’t think I could handle it if the first real friend I have outside of Bellamy has a sister who slept with Callen. My Callen. Well, not exactly mine. But completely mine.

This is just cruel.

“Trust me. If I had slept with that man, I don’t think I’d ever let him out of bed. He looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Please tell me he can replace a clit,” Coraline begs, and I say a silent prayer of thanks to whoever the hell was listening to me.

“Oh . . . he can replace a G-spot and a clit.” I open my mouth to shut Addie up, but she keeps going, “with his mouth and his tongue.”

“Adelaide—”

“Sorry.” She shrugs and puts down her glass. Mental note—be careful what I tell Adelaide. She’s got loose lips when she’s drunk. “I think I may have had too much wine.”

“Ya think?” I ask while Coraline laughs.

“I say use him. You live with a man who looks like a sexy beast of a race car.” When Addie and I both get confused, Coraline rolls her eyes. “High-performance with sleek lines and lots of muscle. Follow along here, ladies. And he already knocked you up. Hop on and take him for a ride.”

Addie raises her hand. “I second that vote. Then tell us all about it. I could use some inspiration for my new book hero. Porn is getting old, and Callen is hot.”

My mouth hangs open for a hot minute. “Porn?”

Addie shrugs and apparently gives up on the glass when she goes straight for the bottle of wine. I guess the holidays could suck worse. I could be the James sisters, who’ve lost both parents and their grandmother in the past two years. I think my friend may be trying to dull the pain today.

Could I actually do that?

Separate my emotions from sex and basically use Callen to scratch an itch?

Coraline hands me back my phone, and I stare at Callen on the screen.

Damn it. They’re both right. He is hot. He’s also talented with his mouth, his hands, and his beautifully thick cock. Even just thinking about it makes me needy.

Needier.

Maybe I can do this.

Or maybe this is the worst idea I’ve ever had.

Guess there’s only one way to replace out.

I slide into the front seat of my cousin’s black Escalade and ignore the glare he throws at me. “Seriously, Jude. Can you protect me more from the back seat than you can from the front?”

Jude is two months younger than me, but he’s trained under Killian’s father, Cade, his entire life. He’s also been part of my father’s world, I suspect, since we were in high school. But I can’t be sure, and he’d never tell.

He’s gorgeous and confident and supremely quiet, unlike the rest of the men in my life lately. To the rest of the world, those men are quiet. But to me . . . to me, they’re constantly the loudest voices in my head.

He’s been part of my security team since I went to college, and Dad moved him into the main position once I graduated. “Don’t you ever wish you were doing something other than watching me?”

“You’re the job, principessa.”

I wait for more, but it doesn’t come.

Alrighty then.

“Can I ask you something?” He side-eyes me as we turn off Adelaide’s street. “Am I safe?”

I hadn’t planned on asking that, it just sort of slips out without thought.

Damn.

“I mean⁠—”

“Your father has increased your security since the accident. You may not notice it, but that just means we’re doing our jobs. Everyone is aware of how much you hate having a team. Your mother does too. But whether you want to be or not, you were born high-profile, Caitlin. You’re a Kingston and a Beneventi. You’re a billionaire heiress with mob connections, even if no one mentions that second part. Ignoring it doesn’t make it less true. You shouldn’t have snuck into the doctor’s office that day. All you had to do was tell me where you were going. I don’t crowd you. I never have. I know you fucking hate this, but it’s my fucking job to make sure you’re safe, and I can’t do that if you don’t help me.”

Holy shit.

That might be the most consecutive words my cousin has ever said to me.

And they make me feel like shit.

“I’m sorry, Jude. I didn’t think about it that way,” I admit quietly as a light dusting of fluffy snow begins to fall.

“Well, start thinking about it that way. You’ve got a lot of people who love you and care about your safety. Stop being a brat and start looking at it from their perspective. Keeping you safe is the top priority, principessa. Everything else comes second. It has to.”

He turns onto Callen’s street, and his words ring out like a war cry, loud and booming in my head. Damn him. “Are you talking about my father, my brothers, or Callen?”

Jude cocks an eyebrow as Callen’s house comes into view.

Oh wow.

“I’m talking about all of them.” He turns down the driveway and parks the car. “Especially the one who did all this, I’m guessing for you, in the few hours you’ve been gone.”

Beautiful white lights are strung from the lines of the roof and wrapped around evergreen garland draping from the porch banisters. The wreaths are hung on the door, and as Jude opens the car door for me, I see the dark-red bows tied on each post. Callen . . ..

Jude walks me to the door, but presses his hand flat against it, blocking me from opening it. “Forgiveness is a choice, Cait.”

I stare at him, shocked this is coming from Jude but somehow not surprised either.

“I’m working on it. But it’s not that easy,” I whisper in the cold night.

“Try harder. Forgive. Forget. Do something that means you’re moving on. Because being miserable is a shitty way to go through life. Now go inside, lock the damn door, and go to bed. I’m going home. Text me in the morning if your plans change for tomorrow, okay?”

He drops his hand and walks away without waiting for a response.

When I step inside, I’m met with the smell of the fresh Christmas tree we picked out earlier. Callen set it up in the center of the family room. The boxes of unopened ornaments sit on the coffee table, and Cupcake’s stocking is hanging on the mantle while she sleeps in her new red, green, and pink holiday doggy bed in the corner of the room.

“Do you like it?”

I look over to where Callen stands at the bottom of the steps in black sleep pants, shirtless. His toned skin pulled tight over corded muscle covered in beautiful ink. It’s too much.

“You’re not fighting fair, Sinclair,” I murmur, dazed. It’s too much.

The beautiful decorations and the beautiful man.

He must see the waver in my eyes because I swear he stalks across the room like a lion stalking his prey, sensing the weakness. “I’m fighting to win, kitten. Nobody said I had to fight fair.”

I give up the first inch of the battle when I lean into him . . . unable to stop myself. “The house looks great.” I lick my lips and try to slow my breathing. “Thank you.”

“You like it?” he asks as he slowly brings his hands up to cup my face, like he’s waiting for me to lash out. And I want to. I really do. But I just can’t. Not tonight. Not right now.

I close my eyes and relax into his touch as a traitorous tear slips past my lid.

He thumbs it away. “Forgive me, Caitlin. Forgive me because I love you, and I did it for you.”

“Tell me you’d do it differently,” I challenge him, knowing his answer. “Actually . . . don’t answer that.”

He tips my chin up and locks his green eyes on mine.

“I don’t forgive you, Callen. But I want you to make me forget. Make me forget tonight, and tomorrow I’ll go back to hating you.” I drag my hands up the smooth skin of his back and sink my nails into his shoulders as he lifts me from the floor and wraps my legs around his waist.

His mouth crashes over mine, and agony and ecstasy war with each other at the first touch of his tongue to mine.

“You don’t hate me, Caitlin. You can’t. You’re mine, and I’m going to show you what you already know but refuse to admit.”

“Jesus Christ. Shut up and make me come.”