It’s quieter than that, as if he’s seeing straight inside me.
I look away as Leah claps her hands. “Right, I’m packing up leftovers for the boys at the station. Mason, you’re on tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Seven-to-seven.”
“Perfect. You’ll get the rest of the turkey and three desserts. Don’t let Beck eat all the pie again.”
“No promises.”
I push my chair back, suddenly desperate for air. “I’m gonna head, too. It’s been a big day.”
Tamara frowns. “You sure? Don’t wanna stay a teeny bit longer?”
“Yeah.” I smile softly. “I just need a bit of quiet, that’s all. I’m only ten minutes away.”
“I can take you,” Mason offers, already half-rising from his seat.
But before I can decline, Herb waves a hand. “Nah, I’ll run her. Easier for you to head straight to the station. Weather’s packing in quick—snow’s getting heavy, and I reckon you’ll have a few callouts tonight. Always do.”
The lights overhead flicker again, and we all glance up at the soft dimming, before they return to full brightness.
“See?” he adds. “Wouldn’t be Christmas without the grid throwing a tantrum.”
“Been worse,” Leah says, collecting plates. “Remember the year we lost power and Eli tried to warm the pie with a hairdryer?”
“Itworked,” Eli says.
“It did not.”
Herb turns back to me. “Just flick us a message when you’re tucked in for the night, alright? Wanna know you’re safe, or Leah’ll make me come find you in a blizzard at 3a.m.”
I chuckle. “Will do.”
The drive to the cabin is short and silent, apart from the hiss of slush beneath the tires and the old Christmas jazz station Herb insists on playing.
The cabin’s tucked just past the cemetery, which I do not love, but it’s cozy enough from the outside. Herb waits until I’m safely inside before backing down the drive, headlights vanishing into white.
Inside, it smells faintly of cedar and clean linen. I quickly get unpacked, then take a look around.
The place is small. Just one bedroom, a bathroom and an open-plan kitchen and living area. There’s a wood burner with two armchairs on either side, and a scraggly little artificial tree in the corner. A note sits beside it.
If you’re feeling festive, we left a few decorations for you to unpack! — The Harrisons.
I stare at the note, then at the box of baubles. Then back at the tree.
Feeling festive? Absolutely not. The onlydecorationsI’ve unpacked are my vibrator and sparkly butt plug, which are currently perched on my bedside table for later.
Instead, I kick off my boots and call Everett. He answers on the second ring, already mid-eye roll.
“Oh thank god,” he says. “Please tell me you’re calling to save me.”
“Still at your parents’?”
“I’m being held hostage. My aunt just asked when I’m bringing anice girlhome.”
I snort. “Oh no.”
“I told her I’m still narrowing down the field. She thinks I’m a monk, I think I’m gay. It’s a whole thing.”
