“Cassidy will be here next year.” Jackson’s tone makes it sound like he has the authority to decide that she’ll be here, whether she wants to be or not.
“Is she coming tomorrow for leftover-extravaganza?” Denny asks.
Dubbed “leftover-extravaganza” when we were kids, December twenty-sixth was the day when the Wells family used to celebrate Christmaswith the ranch hands. Back before Kate decided we may as well come over to the big house for Christmas Day. Grandpa Wells kept a bonfire going all day, liquor flowed freely, and the Wells’s insane amount of leftover food was set out for everyone to devour. We’d toboggan, ride snowmobiles, and roast marshmallows well into the night. The only part of Christmas I’ve ever truly enjoyed.
“No, she’s leaving in the morning to visit Blair in Vancouver.”
Denny blinks, and his face blanches like he’s seen a ghost.Weird.
“Oh,” he finally says, after taking a strangely long pause. “I didn’t think she still had friends here. That’s… cool.” Tipping his beer back, the muscles in his neck work overtime as he gulps. And gulps. And gulps.
Yup. He’s being fucking weird.
Saving me from any more of this awkward conversation, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pile food onto my already heaping plate and slide into the seat next to Austin, so I can eat and text my Cass in peace.
Cass:I want you to describe all the food you’re eating in graphic detail.
Cass:Erase the cardboard-flavoured mozzarella sticks from my brain forever
Red:You have a food kink or some shit, don’t you?
Cass:Nvm I’ll text Denny then. He’ll help me out
I glance over at Denny, who seems to be acting normal again, competing with Odessa to see who can fit more cheese cubes in their mouth.
Red:Cranberry and brie on some sort of homemade bread. Bite-size and the bread’s a bit crunchy.
Cass:Fuck me
Red:Right now? On my way
Cass:Why would I want that when you’re talking about cranberries and brie?
Cass:Get it together and tell me what else is there.
Red:You could always come over, you know
Cass:Friends with benefits don’t do Christmas together.
Red:Your fave: scalloped potatoes. Also Nanaimo bars, butter tarts, and something Odessa is calling puppy chow?
Cass:Your work here is done. Thank you.
Red:If you touch yourself to these texts, I better get a fucking video
I ate too much last night to properly participate in leftover-extravaganza, but my only other option is to sit around stressing about Cassidy driving to Vancouver. She insisted my offer to drive her was ridiculous, and maybe it was. But I would’ve happily driven to Vancouver, spent a few days alone—hating every second of being in the city—and driven back home with her. Just so I’d know she was safe.
She didn’t want that. So I pull up a folding camp chair next to the fire and sink down. Watching the crackling orange embers, sipping hot cocoa, and relishing the warm sun rays on an otherwise brisk day. Just beyond the fire, Odessa’s tugging Rhett around on a small toboggan, running as fast as she can up and down a well-worn footpath. It’s a matter of time before he falls face first into the snow but, for now, he’s belly-gut laughing at his big sister. Next Christmas, that could be Little Spud. Assuming Jackson’s right, and Cassidy is willing to come here.
“Hey, man.” Speaking of the devil, Jackson pulls up a seat next to me, holding out a snowflake-shaped shortbread. “Cookie?”
I shake my head. “I ate enough yesterday to get me through to next year.”
Cass had wanted descriptions of everything, and who am I to say no? So I ate. Texting her details until well after midnight.
He chuckles. “Fair. I think once you become a dad, you gain the ability to eat more than ever before.”
“It’s because you eat all the kids’ leftovers on top of your own.” Kate slips into a chair next to his, propping her feet up on a rock in front of the fire. “Your stomach’s used to a bonus snack after every meal.”
