Free A Christmas to Remember by Jill Shalvis, Kristen Ashley, Hope Ramsay, Molly Cannon, Marilyn Pappano Page A

screeched, his arms going straight up in the air right before his body fell on a big package. He slapped his hand on it and said to Rush, “I wanna start with this one.”
    “That’ll be hard, buddy, since that’s for Ride,” Rush told Cut.
    Cutter’s face fell.
    “Though, this one’s for you,” Rush said as he reached and slid an even bigger package out from behind the tree.
    Cutter’s eyes got huge.
    Jeez, my brother was cute.
    I gave up on finishing up my own stocking in order to drop sideways so I could lean into my man and watch Christmas unfold.
    Shy readily accepted my weight and slid an arm around my shoulders to tuck me closer, settling in himself by stretching his long legs in front of him and crossing his ankles.
    And, sitting tucked close to Shy, we watched Cutter rip into that package like nobody’s business.
    When Mom was around, Christmas at the Allen house could mean anything, including Mom throwing a hissy fit and breaking all the stoneware in the kitchen (no joke, this happened—
twice
). Therefore, we spent the day on eggshells, all of us, including Dad, wondering if it would be good or very, very bad.
    But not now.
    No, not now.
    Not with Tyra. Not with Ride and Cut. Not with Shy and Landon.
    Now, it was still not good.
    No, now it was
amazing.
    * * *
    “That’s it,” Ride decreed when the last package was opened (but the tire swing had yet to be unveiled). “Can we play now, Momma?” he asked Tyra.
    “Got two more,” Dad said, and Rider’s brows snapped together as Cutter looked around the sea of decimated paper, lonely present-less bows and ribbons, and stacks of loot, likely hoping one of those two was for him (or more likely hoping both of them were).
    But it was Shy that set me aside and straightened out of the couch.
    I watched him go, wondering if he was heading for more coffee or, since it took hours to unwrap presents—the sun was now up, its blinding brightness glinting off the blanket of snow and tufted bunches on the pine boughs—going for a beer.
    Instead, he went for the Christmas tree.
    In order not to step on any Christmas treasure littering the floor, he had to stretch his long arm out to reach into the branches. But this he did, coming out with a little box beautifully wrapped in gold paper with a silver bow.
    He then came back to me.
    Oh God.
    My eyes went from the box to him.
    He folded back into the couch beside me and since I didn’t move, he grabbed my wrist, lifted my hand palm up and put the almost weightless—definitely holding jewelry—box in my hand.
    Then his eyes came to mine and locked there.
    “Every year,” he murmured and I knew.
    I knew.
    Oh God. I knew.
    I knew that every year they were together, Shy’s dad gave his mom a beautiful pair of earrings. I knew this because I had seven of those pairs.
    After they died, his aunt had confiscated those earrings as her “due” for taking care of family.
    When Shy had finally, years later, processed the loss of his folks, he’d gone to his bitch of an aunt’s place and confiscated them back.
    He had seven pairs, which meant I had seven pairs. Landon had the other seven pairs to give to the woman he (eventually) took as his own.
    And this was a searing memory for both men. This show of generosity and love on a day that was about joy and family. The memory had become a symbol of all the beauty they lost when their parents were ripped away. Not only two parents who loved them, gave them a home, nurturing, affection, and pride. But also losing being able to witness the deep and precious love their parents had for each other.
    It was important.
    It was treasured.
    Now, a nuance of that lay in my hand.
    But more, Shy’s love for me lay there.
    Deep and precious.
    My eyes stung with tears.
    “Open it, baby,” he whispered.
    I nodded, pressed my lips together and looked down at the box.
    I tore away the wrapping and let it fall unheeded to the floor. Using my thumb, I flipped open the blue jeweler’s box