The cocoa is cool enough to drink and I wrap my hands around the warm mug. “I bet Lindy loves that. She’s a great baker.”
Thinking about my brother should make me fume, but I’m not because, of course, Brady tracked me down. That’s what big brothers do, especially big brothers who are police officers. To be real, part of me is relieved someone cares enough to check up on me, but not because they want me to do something or be somebody for them.
As much as I get from my fans, I give so much to the team, product endorsements, events, and more. Lilith is right, I did sign up for the spotlight, but had I been able to understand the terms and conditions, I may have thought twice about signing on the dotted line.
Playing my music in cafes on a Friday night and working at a bakery sounds more appealing right now. At least then I’d be able to see my family and friends—the people who really matter—on a regular basis.
Gazing at the crackling fire, I say, “I was looking forward to a normal Christmas with my mom and dad, Brady, his wife, and their kids. Just being Auntie Becca for once instead of ...” I gesture vaguely at myself.
“Rebecca Rios, pop sensation?” Reese says it without judgment, only stating a fact.
“Something like that.”
Nearby, Noella and Hollis discuss the weather with some guests and everyone agrees that there is nowhere they’d rather be to celebrate a snowed-in Christmas. Facing my new reality, I have to agree.
I take a sip of the cocoa and nearly moan. It’s perfectly rich and I swizzle a peppermint candy cane in the creamy liquid. The last time I had hot chocolate was with my niece. I’m her godmother and Brady and Lindy named her Ruthie Rebecca—she’s so special to me. She was born with a rare blood disorder, but has been doing well, is so brave and strong. I wish I could bring her here. She and the boys would love this place.
The corner of Reese’s mouth hooks to one side and his eyes shine in the firelight as he turns his attention to it. It’s like we have a silent exchange that relays contentment. We’re safe from the storm. At least for now.
This setting, the unexpected company and the hot chocolate make me feel like it’s really Christmas rather than like I’m participating in a commercialized event.
When I look up, Reese is watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. He’s grown up since I last saw him. Filled out. His light brown hair is a little mussed, and there’s stubble along his strong jaw. He’s always been handsome, but now he’s the kind of handsome that makes me forget my name, which is convenient because right now I just want to be anonymous. But it’s also inconvenient since he’s my brother’s best friend and therefore completely off-limits.
“It’s really upstanding that you became a firefighter,” I say to fill the silence, vaguely recalling that he’d wanted to since we were kids.
“I joined the Sierra Nevada Spur station about five years ago.” He leans back in his chair, more at ease now. “Utility and tools position. I’m the guy who breaks things and cuts holes in roofs.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Sometimes. Mostly it’s rewarding.” He pauses. “Your brother looks after you, you know. Always has.”
My chest tightens. “I know.”
“So what’s the plan? I assume you’ll catch a flight out tomorrow, be home for Christmas dinner?”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “That was the plan. Do you think I can still get home in time—even with the storm?”
Reese pulls out his phone, scrolling through something. His expression grows serious. “Right. The weather.” He grunts. “Well, unless you have a private pilot willing to brave what’s coming …”
“What do you mean? I could handle another night here, but I might be stuck longer than that?”
“With the polar vortex moving in, it might be best to wait until the day after Christmas. That’s when I have to report for duty, too. The news is calling the storm ‘Frosty’s Blizzard Blast.’ We can expect a day or two worth of the white stuff. The nearest airport is Carson City, but the mountain roads are already closed, which means it’ll be a bit before we’re plowed out.”
My heart sinks as he reads the report. “I was thinking it would blow over and that I could leave tomorrow. Now what am I going to do?”
Taking charge, he says, “I recommend you call your brother and let him know you’re okay.” He slides his phone across the table.
I stare at it like it might bite me. But he’s right. Brady deserves to know I’m safe, even if I’m not ready to go back to my regularly scheduled career.
I pick up the phone and tap his name, which in Reese’s phone reads The Brade-ster.
“You guys always had the goofiest nicknames for each other. It’s nice that you’ve remained friends.” I think of all the ones I’ve lost and the so-called friends who’ve attached themselves to me to serve their own interests. It’s all so clear to me now.
“Brady is the best, even if he calls me Reese’s Pieces,” he says with a chuckle.
“I’m sure he’d say the same about you.” I let out a slow sigh. “Staying connected with family and friends is the most important … I’m here to admit that it’s lonely at the top. I’m constantly surrounded by people, but they’re not exactly friends. More like opportunists. At least, it feels that way a lot of the time.”
A blue Christmas settles over me as I press Call.
