The Geek Who Saved Christmas

by Annabeth Albert

“Gideon.” With a mighty roar, Paul grabbed me right before I reached the edge, hauling me back up and onto the roof. We landed in a heap together on the flat space by the dormer. “Fuck. Fuck. Are you okay?” “Never better.” I smiled at him. I was probably in shock, but his arms were still around me, and I wasn’t sprawled out on his front lawn, so life was pretty damn good if you asked me. “Liar. We’re getting you inside.” He hustled me in through the window, pulling at my askew coat. “Let me see how bad you got scraped. Fuck. Your knee is bleeding. I told you those shoes weren’t up to the job. You could have broken your fool neck.” His face was ghostly pale, eyes stricken as he removed my coat and examined my various injuries, tone growing ever more alarmed. Maybe I wasn’t the only one in shock. “But I didn’t,” I assured him, pushing at his shoulder. “Paul. I’m okay. I didn’t fall. You saved me.” “Almost didn’t.” He’d removed his gloves, and his fingers were warm against my scraped-up side. “I’m going to need to patch you up.” It had been thirty-five odd years since anyone had shown this level of concern over my welfare, and that it was him, my grumpiest of neighbors, had my eyes stinging. “Thank you.” I tilted his face up so he’d stop searching me for new wounds. But that brought his face level with mine, his bristly chin in my hands, hazel eyes cloudy with pain like he was the hurt one, mouth parting like he was going to deliver more scolding. And I did the only thing tha...