This is what I’ve been pretending I don’t want.
Not the sneaking around, not the adrenaline of ducking into my old bedroom like horny teenagers five minutes ago, though I’m not complaining, but this. Her barefoot and laughing with my mom, her cracking smart-ass jokes right back at my dad. Like she could build a life with me.
My chest pulls tight. It’s not the usual feeling I get around this time of year, the gut punch I get every December when I remember Jess walking out. It’s the good kind. The kind that says,You idiot, this is what you’ve been working yourself to death for. Not just houses and money. This.
She glances up at exactly the wrong time, right when I’m drowning in it, in her. Our eyes meet. The smile she gives me is small, secret, the one she reserves for me when no one’s looking. My body reacts like I’m still pressed between her thighs and not ten feet away, trying to look casual.
Down, asshole.
I force my expression neutral, tip my chin like it’s nothing, like I didn’t have her coming apart on my mouth upstairs while my entire family sang “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” down here.
My mom follows Hailey’s line of sight.Oh, hell.
Marla Bristol has what I call her Church Lady Look. It’s soft and pleasant with eyes that miss absolutely nothing. It’s on me now. She tracks from Hailey… to me… back to Hailey. Then those brows lift just the tiniest bit.
Busted.
“Cole?” she calls, like I wasn’t clearly standing here staring at the woman I’m not supposed to be touching. “You going to help your mama or just loom in the doorway like a big ol’ pine tree?”
I clear my throat and push off the archway. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Hailey ducks her head, busying herself with foil. The tips of her ears go pink. She knows Mom saw it too. I cross the roomand the house suddenly feels smaller than it’s ever felt—walls closing in, all that holiday cheer getting heavy.
Mom hands me a plastic container. “Put this in the extra fridge in the garage,” she says. “Your uncle’ll want the dressing tomorrow.”
“Sure.” I take it, but she doesn’t let go right away. Her fingers squeeze mine once, a lingering question or a warning, maybe both.
“You enjoying yourself?” she asks, tone light.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Yeah, Ma. It was good.”
Her gaze flicks past me again to where Hailey is straightening the throw pillows like a damn angel. Mom’s mouth curves, knowing. “Mmm. Looked like it.”
Shit.
I drop the plastic container into the garage fridge, then stand there with the door still open, staring at shelves lined with leftover casseroles and enough pie to feed an army.
If I stay out here long enough, maybe I’ll figure out how to say it, how to tell Maddie that the woman she’s always called her sister is the one I can’t stop thinking about, the woman I’m in love with.
But when I walk back inside, Mom’s at the kitchen sink, hands in soapy water, humming along with the radio. The TV’s off now. The tree lights are the only thing left glowing.
She looks over her shoulder when she hears me. “Finally done hiding out?”
“Wasn’t hiding.”
“Mm-hmm.” She gives me a look that says she doesn’t buy a word of it. “Come help me dry these before your dad puts the wrong ones in the cabinet again.”
I grab a towel, then lean a hip against the counter. We work in silence for a bit just like we did when I was a kid, her passingdishes, me drying. It’s easy, familiar. Until she says quietly, “You seem happy, Cole.”
I glance at her. “Yeah?”
She nods, eyes still on the suds. “Happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. Since before Jess.”
“Yeah,” I say after a beat. “Guess I finally stopped letting that take up space.”
She hands me a mug, and her voice drops, gentle. “It was a long time ago, sweetheart. I know you thought she was the one, but maybe she was just… practice for the real thing.”
I huff a laugh. “Practice, huh?”
