Christmas lights lined the boardwalk, casting a golden glow over the sleepy shops and cold sand. Even if Abel were not able to feel the frigid gale whipping up from the beach, he would know it was cold as fuck outside just from the look of the ocean. In a few weeks, the police department would be taking a plunge for charity, which he thought was insane and highly entertaining. He and Teddy planned to bundle up and sit on their deck, handing out hot chocolates.

“How come your parents didn’t buy a beach house in fucking Florida or the Carolinas or something?” Abel complained as he huddled his shoulders and tucked his nose into his scarf.

Teddy’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at him. “I like the beach in winter. It’s so quiet.”

“Yeah, cause nobody in their right mind…” he swallowed his words and evaded Teddy’s attempt to smack him on the arm. Teddy cackled and danced away in case he decided to retaliate. They left the warm glow of the boardwalk and turned to head a block inward from the beach toward the sidewalks that they needed to follow the rest of the way to the house.

“Your mom texted me,” Teddy said.

Abel tried to keep the frown off his face because the pause after Teddy spoke meant he was watching Abel’s reaction, even if his eyes appeared to be anywhere else, darting from the gigantic wreaths hanging on the hotels to the group of guys stumbling down the other side of the street. Abel’s mother had been reluctant to accept Teddy’s permanence, especially when she learned that Abel was moving nearly a day’s drive away. Still, over the past year, she’d been worn down into accepting that he was not going anywhere, and she couldn’t just ignore him if she wanted to keep a relationship with her son.

“She was just letting me know that the Christmas presents she sent should be coming tomorrow or the day after,” he continued. “Are you sure she’s okay with us not coming this year?”

“It’s fine. We were at Thanksgiving. Are you okay with not going to her place this year?”

Teddy shrugged. He could take or leave his relationship with Abel’s mom. All he cared about was whether Abel wanted to have a good relationship with her, and he was willing to play whatever role was necessary either way.

As they walked, the hotels mostly gave way to duplexes and houses. On the other side of the street, a little strip mall sat quiet and dark. The souvenir shop was closed for the season, and the nail salon was closed because of the late hour. The ice cream shop on the next block was still open. Bright white light spills out from the counter where the stumbly group of guys they’d been keeping pace with gathered to peer up at the flavors.

The fancy, schmancy restaurant a block down, across from their house, was also open. It was the type of place with a valet service, so the diners pulled up to the curb and did not have to worry about parking. The valets didn’t have to stand out on the sidewalk in the winter like they do during the summer. But they were still working hard, bringing around a sleek BMW. A couple of guys emerged from inside as the valet stepped out of the driver’s seat.

Abel immediately turned his back and picked up the pace, herding Teddy toward their house with its sandy welcome mat and light blue front door. Teddy laughed a little but allowed himself to be shuffled along. Abel did not laugh.

He would know that man anywhere. Dark hair and signature confidence to go along with the severe features he shares with the rest of his family. Abel would know because he sees that nose and jawline in the mirror every morning when he brushes his teeth.

He and Gideon Barta had only met a handful of times at family events that his mother could not avoid.  They were cousins of some kind—not direct, first cousins or anything, but in their family, a cousin was a cousin was a cousin. Gideon was at least a decade older and from the nuclear family at the head of everything, the head of the snake. Truthfully, the last thing he would have been worried about at those family events was some snot-nosed kid who didn’t want much to do with the family anyway. He likely could not pick Abel out of a lineup, aside from the fact that they did look related.

“What are you doing?” Teddy huffed as Abel crowded him against the door and missed the lock with the key twice.

“It’s fucking cold,” Abel grumbled. His breath clouded in front of him. His nose was numb. Teddy insisted on walking everywhere they could. But what makes his fingers fumble is the adrenaline seeping through his veins, numbing his fingers and making his ears rush.

It had to be a coincidence. The restaurant across the street was exactly the kind of spot that a Barta would eat at. He had been with someone, another man who was probably a business associate, some connection here at the beach. There was lots of drugs and gang activity here, especially during the summer with all the tourists. It was reasonable to think that he might be here for business.

He shook off the shock of adrenaline as they stepped into the warmth of the house and shed their scarves, gloves and coats. Teddy tended not to worry about anything unless it directly impacted him in the moment, so he brushed off Abel’s strange behavior and shuffled into the kitchen to spread their take-out containers over the table.

Abel tried to put it out of his mind as well, joining him to eat, then cuddling up and letting the movie they watched before bed wash over him as a welcome distraction.

Unfortunately, seeing Gideon was not a fluke to be forgotten about.

The following day, as Teddy stood over a pan of sizzling bacon and Abel fumbled for a chair at the kitchen table because he was having trouble waking up, even with the tantalizing smells of bacon and coffee, the doorbell rang.

Abel paused halfway into his seat.

“I’ll get it, just make sure that the bacon doesn’t burn,” Teddy chirped. He shoved the tongs into Abel’s hand and disappeared. Abel abandoned the chair and went to the stove. He lifted the paper towel draped over the pile of cooked bacon to the side of the stove and stole a piece.

The door opened, and the person on the other side said something, the register of their voice far lower than Teddy’s. Teddy said something back. Then the door shut, and the voices came closer.

“We’re just making breakfast,” Teddy explained. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“I would appreciate that, thank you.”

Abel turned around and was greeted by the sight of none other than Gideon Barta unwinding a scarf from his neck and looking him dead in the eyes. He always had unnerving eyes, blue in contrast to his dark features. And he could make them sharp enough that it felt like he had a knife at your throat when all he was doing was looking at you. Even when he was barely twenty the last time Abel saw him, he had that look. But not now.

Now, he looked cautious, as if Abel were holding a gun in his hand instead of a spatula. He draped the scarf over one of the kitchen chairs and slowly unbuttoned his long wool coat.

Teddy brushed past Abel to get to the cabinet with the mugs. As he did, he glanced up, and Abel knew him well enough to see past the friendly smile to the color draining out of his cheeks and his eyes growing big in his head. Teddy had been with Ken long enough not only to recognize the Bartas by name but also to recognize them in person. “Abel, I didn’t realize you and Gideon were close.”

“We aren’t particularly,” Abel said, glancing at Gideon.

“My apologies for dropping by unannounced,” Gideon smiled. “I happened to be spending Christmas at Osprey and remembered that you moved out here last year.”

Abel did not believe a word of what he said. He was not sorry. He did not happen to be spending Christmas at Osprey. Osprey was the swanky hotel his family owned and ran their business here in town out of. He certainly did not randomly remember that Abel lived here. How had he even found that information out? Abel was not naïve, and he did not believe in coincidences. Gideon was here for a purpose.

“We’ve got Italian Crème or Cinnabon creamer,” Teddy announced. “Any preference?”

“Cinnabon,” Gideon said. He slid his coat off his shoulders, draped it over the back of a chair, then sat.

“Abel,” Teddy elbowed him, “The bacon.”

It was beginning to get a little crispy. He pulled it out of the spitting pan and piled it on top of the rest of the bacon, careful to dab at the extra grease off each piece so that Teddy would eat them.

“Is your whole family here?” Teddy asked, putting the coffee down in front of Gideon, then moving to grab him a plate. There were already two place settings at the table, as well as a platter of French Toast and a bottle of maple syrup in the center.

Gideon shook his head and nudged the coffee mug to the side so that there was room for Teddy to put the plate in front of him. “Just my husband and I.”

Abel ran his foot into the table leg and nearly dropped the plate of bacon all over everything. Teddy and Gideon both blinked at him in surprise. He hastily apologized, set the bacon on the table, and then parked himself in a chair.

“I thought we might all get together for Christmas Eve and go to dinner or something.”

Abel opened his mouth to say that they were busy. They were leaving later today to go home to his mom’s or some other excuse. But Teddy beat him to it. “We’ve got this Charity thing where we go deliver presents to kids in need on Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, how about tonight then?” Gideon pressed. “Cole is a little disappointed that we are here at the beach instead of back home for Christmas, so I think he would enjoy having dinner with some family.”