“Yeah.”He studies my face.“More… restless.You’re always so cheerful.Not today.”
Maybe he can sense the guilt.Perhaps I still reek of smoke and the biker jizz oozing from me.I drop my gaze to the floor.
“I guess I’m still shaken up,” I say.
“Shaken or stirred?”he tries.He reaches for me, but I step back.
“Blake, I’m tired.Can we please go?”
He nods, but his face shows his disappointment.It’s like I kicked his puppy.He nearly pouts.“Of course.But we’ll miss opening presents.”
Is that all it is?“Seriously, I need to go home.”
“I’ll make our excuses.”
When we leave with our unopened gifts, the twins hug me like they’re sealing something off.“Merry Christmas,” Brittany says, more cheerful than usual.
Probably glad I’m leaving.
“Don’t get lost in your little winter wonderland,” Blair adds, laughing.
Too late, I think.
Outside, the cold slaps my face clean.Snowflakes catch in my hair, the city lights turning them gold.Blake walks ahead, talking about next year, next step, next promotion.I let him.
Because all I can think about is a biker back in Evervale, older, rougher, wrong in every way, who made me feel alive in a way this polished world never could.
Blake opens the door for me and presses a warm kiss against my forehead.He steps back, his face going through a range of emotions.He wants to say something.I can see him weighing it in his head.
“I love you, Carol,” he says finally.
“I love you, too,” I lie.
“Merry Christmas.”
Nodding, I drop inside the car, guilt eating me alive.Resting against plush leather, I pretend to sleep on the ride home.
My apartment’s dark when we step inside, just the glow of the tree blinking lazy colors across the floor.I kick off my heels, my feet aching, my smile long gone somewhere between dessert and the twins’ perfect engagement stories.
Blake sets a small wrapped box on the coffee table.“Don’t you even want to open your present?”
“Not tonight.”I hang up my coat, still smelling like his mother’s perfume and chocolate mint pie.“I just need to breathe.”
He frowns and pockets my gift.“You’ve been quiet since dinner.My family isn’t that bad.”
“They’re fine,” I say, sinking onto the couch.“I’m just tired.”
“Tired, or mad?”
“Neither.Shaken.”I rub my temples.“The robbery.It’s just, still in my head.”
Sighing, he sits beside me, close but not touching.“Then I’ll stay.You shouldn’t be alone after that.”
“You didn’t plan on staying?It’s Christmas.”
“I just told you about my possible promotion.”
I don’t tell him I didn’t listen to a word of it.
