Wreck the Halls

Still, he hesitated. “Right.”

Suddenly, his hand moved of its own accord, reaching for Melody’s. Before Beat could analyze his own decision-making, they were following Lee, hand in hand. All because Beat didn’t want to spend a few minutes away from her. Wow. “You’re taking me down with you? I thought we were friends!”

“You wanted a wish ceremony, right? Here’s your chance.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the talking.”

“That was never in question. When I’m getting ready to take my turn on bocce nights, my nervous system just assumes I’m addressing the entire nation. Have you ever heard knees knocking? Mine actually tap out ‘pathetic’ in Morse code. And I don’t even know Morse code.”

A familiar, deep chuckle sounded behind them and they simultaneously realized they were being trailed through the crowd by Joseph, their conversation recorded. “Do you two mind putting your mics back on? Danielle is screaming in my ear.”

“Sorry.” Melody winced, reaching back to press the button.

Beat did the same.

A fifteen-foot Douglas fir towered beside a wide, sweeping staircase. Along with the gentle glow of gold and perfectly spaced ornaments, little white notecards decorated the fragrant branches. As Beat led Melody up the stairs, he scanned the cards and stumbled upon one requesting that Octavia sing them a song almost immediately, snatching it up between his middle and index finger. “Got one.”

“Holy Hannah, you’re really bringing me up here in front of everyone.”

A tremor moved through her fingers. Distract her.

“I’m coming to one of your bocce games, Mel,” Beat said in a lower voice.

“You most certainly are not.”

“What are the team colors? For body paint reasons.”

She shook against him with laughter. “Pink.”

Beat winced. “That’s fucking unfortunate, but okay.”

“Nope. You won’t do it.”

His lips spread into a smile. “You are dead wrong.”

Midway up the staircase, they turned and faced the crowd, side by side, Lee pressing a microphone into Beat’s hand and reminding him to wait for the spotlight.

“Spotlight?” Melody squeaked.

“Fair warning, Peach,” Beat said, clearing debris from his throat. God, he loved calling her Peach. The way it made her blush, exactly like the fruit in question, was addicting. “When the spotlight comes on, it’s a little startling. It’s just . . . pop.”

“Pop. Got it.” She lifted her chin. “I’m ready.”

The room went black.

A laserlike beam burst onto them from across the ballroom, hitting them like a sucker punch—and it propelled Mel straight backward, her ass landing on a higher step.

“Mel.”

“Wow,” she whispered. “You undersold that a little.”

Beat dropped the microphone, sending a squeal of feedback through the room while helping Mel to her feet. “Are you okay?” He turned her slightly to observe the impact point, not really stopping to think about how the impact point was her rear end. “Does it hurt?”

“My butt? No, it’s just startled.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I mean, I was just startled. Not my butt.”

Laughter rang through the ballroom.

Apparently, the handheld mic was picking up every word out of their mouths, to say nothing of the smaller ones strapped to their bodies.

“I think I’ll just hide back here for a while.”

Melody sidestepped behind him, earning another laugh from their audience. Beat looked out over the sea of faces, but it took him a moment to summon the words that normally came to him easily. Had he been selfish to bring Melody up here? Sure, she’d agreed to appear on a live television show in front of an unknown number of people, but maybe being able to see a crowd in front of her was too much? He struggled against the need to turn around and reassure himself she was all right, but wouldn’t he merely be drawing more attention to her?

Beat bent down as quickly as possible to pick up the dropped mic, swallowed, and forced a smile onto his face. The one everybody was accustomed to seeing on him. “Good evening, friends, and happy holidays. On behalf of the Ovations family, myself and my parents, Octavia and Rudy Dawkins, we thank you for being here tonight and your generosity toward the scholarship fund.”

To everyone in this room, to everyone watching the live stream, he was the furthest thing from a mess. But secretly, that’s what he was, right? A mess. He used to be capable of getting through these public appearances without that fact screaming in his ear, but the performance was getting harder— Melody laid a hand on his back. There you go. Easy.

No one knew about the half dozen threatening voice mails on his phone.

No one knew how he liked to be punished for everything in life coming so easy. For never being told no or deprived of anything.

Air filled his lungs and he forced his smile wider.

“In keeping with tradition, Octavia will be granting one of your wishes this evening. I can’t imagine what it will be . . .”

A knowing ripple of amusement went through the guests.

On cue, the crowd parted, and his mother made her way toward the staircase, a second spotlight encapsulating her in a hazy glow—and if he wasn’t mistaken, the lighting was a lot more flattering than the one glaring down on him and Melody. He couldn’t help but laugh at that.

Octavia’s expression wasn’t as indulgent as usual, however.

It was curiosity laced with dread—and Melody, who was now in a full body press against his back, her hand twisted in the tail of his tuxedo jacket, was the focus. His mother craned her neck to get a look at Melody, her brow quirking higher. She looked at Beat as if to say, Excuse me, are you sleeping with the enemy?

If only.

With a deep breath, Beat raised the mic. “This year’s wish is for—”

“A Steel Birds reunion,” someone shouted in the crowd.

Applause and whistles ripped across the ballroom like wildfire.

And then the chanting started.





Chapter Twelve




“Re-u-nite! Re-u-nite!”

Still in her hiding spot behind Beat, Melody’s mouth dropped open. It appeared the crowd was doing their job for them? The public’s investment in a reunion had been increasing for months now. Was it possible the live stream had spurred that interest even further? Already?