“Maybe if the tree could have told my brother it was hurting, something could have changed.”
I move my head back to look at her. “I’m not telling my mom I’m hurting to try to change her. That’s manipulation.”
She pulls away from me, looking horrified. “I wouldneversuggest that. Ever.” Her eyebrows thread together. “But … Lucas was hurting when he attacked the tree. Our teacher was always putting him down and comparing him to me, and that hurt his feelings. He never told my mom about it, and I bet she’d have felt awful if she’d known what was really going on with him.”
“But I’m not attacking anything. I’m not lashing out. The pain stays with me.”
“What ifyou’rethe one you’re hurting? What if not letting her know you’re disappointed is hurting you? What if it’s hurtingher?” Liesel looks at the tree, and I watch her eyes water. “I’ve stayed away from my family for the last two years, and I thought it was only hurting me. But I think it may have hurt all of us. Grieving alone is a lot more painful than grieving together. It’s not like she doesn’t know she’s sick. Maybe acting like nothing’s wrong is hard forher, too.”
I pull Liesel back into a hug and hold her close. I roll my lips together to keep back my frown. But no. I shouldn’t keep back my frown, should I? Isn’t that what Liesel’s saying? My eyessqueeze closed, and I think about the pivotal moments of my life—wins and losses, graduations and performances. I think about the smaller ones, too. Church parties. Haunted houses. Sledding down a hill the first time I ever saw snow in Las Cruces. Getting a milkshake with Dad. Getting to see a Spring Training game after one of my Little League tournaments in Phoenix.
And the tears roll down my cheeks.
“I miss my mom,” I whisper.
“Me too.”
“No hugging!” a voice yells from behind us.
And then a snowball pegs me in the back of the head.
Hard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
COOPER
One totally unfair snowball fight later (I had to throw left-handed! And Liesel’s brothers are both pitchers!), the four of us are red faced, smiling, and drinking hot cocoa on the couch while we all watchHome Alone 4.
“Can’t we go back and watchHome Alone 2?” I ask Liesel. We’re on the loveseat end of the sectional. “I missed the whole thing when I was plowing snow.”
“Nope. Sorry,” Lucas says.
“But this one’s … not awesome.”
“We watch everyHome Alonemovie on Christmas Eve,” Logan says.
“It’s tradition,” Liesel says.
“So was giving naughty children coal,” I mutter. “Not all traditions are created equal.”
Liesel laughs, and I grab her legs and sling them over mine. I rub the gray cashmere, and she smiles and takes a long drink of hot cocoa.
How have we only known each other for a couple of weeks when it feels like we’ve been doing this forever?
“No canoodling!” Lucas says. I turn just quickly enough to see him throwing a Canadian Smartie at me. I catch it in my mouth.
“Enough,” Logan says, kicking Lucas across the couch. “They’re gonna canoodle.”
Bruce enters from the kitchen. “All right. Drain the hot chocolate and let’s finish the nuts and bolts, already.”
“Yes sir,” I say. I set down my mug and remove Liesel’s legs from mine. When I stand, I hold my hand out to pull her up. Her brothers stare at me from the couch. “What?”
“‘Yes sir?’” Lucas repeats.
“Are you trying to make us look bad?” Logan asks.
I smirk. “You’re doing that all on your own.”
