“Good news and bad news,” she said as she swept cookie crumbs from her chest, causing those perfectly unbound tits to bounce. “Good news, I had about nine dozen cookies delivered to my front door. Mr. Winthrop, my cookie man, dropped them off. He decided that he wasn’t going to go to tonight’s party after all. Apparently, the weather is supposed to get pretty terrible here in a bit, and he didn’t want to be stuck out in it. Also good news, I was texted by Searcy. She told me that they canceled the party. She said that it’s supposed to get pretty ugly out. So we’re going to have it on Saturday instead. Bad news, the only place that would deliver food was Chinese. I know that you have a personal relationship with Mexican food, but they were all we could get. I did make sure to order you the spiciest thing on the menu, though.”
That was a lot of information to digest.
“What’s going on with the weather?”
“Turns out, the melting of the snow today wasn’t a good thing because now it’s all freezing back up with that new cold front that came in while you were napping. We’re supposed to get into the single digits tonight. No snow, though. Just arctic blasts of wind. And since it’s raining right now, they fully expect everything to ice over in the next hour.”
I scrubbed at my face, then rolled over and reached for the closest thing to me. Caramel popcorn.
I took a handful and shoved half of that handful into my mouth.
Only when I was halfway chewed did I say, “I like Chinese food. How’d you know that I liked spicy things?”
Or, more accurately, how did you know that spicy was the only damn thing I could taste?
“Searcy made a comment,” she explained. “Something about your taste buds and only being able to taste spicy.”
“Spicy and sweet,” I corrected her. “I can taste spicy and sweet.”
“That makes sense about the cookies,” she said. “Also, I hope that you like cookies, because I have like twenty dozen of all different kinds. I’d invited Mr. Winthrop over to have a party with us. He made extra, then realized a little too late that the storm was going to turn on us. So yeah…”
“I like cookies,” I said. “And I really like his.”
She pressed play on her TV show, and I snorted. “The Haunting of Hill House? What happened to good ol’ White Christmas, or Die Hard?”
She shrugged. “That kind of stuff…”
“Christmas movies?” I clarified.
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I have nothing against Christmas movies or anything, Jasper. But I can’t think of a single good Christmas I had as a child. And though they’re really good now, thanks to Searcy and Doc, they weren’t good then. And it’s not like I can just erase eighteen years of bullshit when I get a few good years after that.”
I thought back to my Christmases with my dad and Sophia, and couldn’t help the small smile that stretched over my lips.
“Dad, Sophia, and I didn’t have all that much,” I said as I took another handful of popcorn, this time the white cheddar, and started munching. “But what we did have were great Christmases. That first year after Dad died, and Sophia thought I died, was bad. She’d never been alone, even when she was with her new man. Haggard told me that Sophia was pretty depressed and wouldn’t watch anything that we used to watch. Was pretty quiet throughout the entire day. Which is understandable.” I looked over at the woman who was listening to my every word. “But at some point, you need to decide. Is the weight of your past worth hanging onto when the possibility of your future is within reach? You could literally make these Christmases into anything you want to. You don’t have to make them bad just because your mother did. Not to mention, holding onto that chip on your shoulder is literally weighing you down. Your every thought and interaction always brushes by your past. At some point, you have to stop being the victim and make yourself into your own hero.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I agree with you.”
My brows rose. “Yeah?”
I shifted on the bed to get into more of a sitting position and groaned. The pain was immeasurable.
Holy fuck.
It was a good thing that I wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
I hoped Cutter felt worse.
She handed me a bottle of water, and it was then that I saw that they were the same brand as the ones that’d been on my front porch when I’d gotten home. “Thanks.”
She nodded and reached for a Dr. Pepper on her nightstand, which had me narrowing my eyes at her. “You didn’t get me one of those?”
“First.” She took a sip before handing it to me. Which I took. “I gave you the water because you said you were worried about getting rhabdo. Which I had to look up by the way. Second, I had a Dr. Pepper because you were sleeping. If I’d known you were going to finally wake up, I’d have brought you one.”
“Hmm,” I said just as the doorbell rang.
She got up and waved me off when I went to swing my legs over. “I’ve got it.”
I waited for her to leave before I continued with standing up.
