“Hm. I do,” Juniper says, and as our eyes meet, my mouth dries.
I think I would be happy simply wallowing in her shadow if that’s all she ever offered me.
“And with that, I’m going to go check on some things. Juni, you’re tagged in. Take five,” Jasmine says, standing
Juniper snickers softly as Jasmine pats her on the shoulder and slips around to take over behind the bar. I slouch in the seat slightly and gently slap the top of my thigh.
“Can I offer you a more comfortable chair? Thigh? Lap? Face?” I ask her.
“I don’t think my regulars would like seeing their bartender being handled in the middle of dinner,” she replies as she sinks her ass into the seat.
“I assure you, they would all very much love to see that,” I tell her.
Juniper shakes her head at me before considering the Jenga tower. “My dad and I used to play this on Christmas Eve,” she says, brows narrowing as she decides her move. “He loved games. We’d open one present, have Chinese for dinner, and play games until I passed out in the living room... What in the hell was Jasmine’s strategy here?” she adds, nose curling.
I love that.
“I wondered the same,” I reply, sitting forward in the chair. “What other games would you play?”
“Ah… we played Scrabble a lot. Card games. Jenga…” She bites the inside of her mouth as she gently pushes on a block. “Just normal family shit.”
The same sadness that was in her eyes at sunrise is there now. It makes me clench my jaw, disturbed by the fact that I’m suddenly very interested in the reason for her sorrow. I want to ask if he’s the reason she screams at the sun, why he’s no longer in her life, if it was something sudden or a slow progression of a sickness no one could do anything about. Or perhaps they simply had a falling out.
I’ve never felt the need to show interest in any human’s life. I’ve neverwantedto.
But that look in her eyes…
“Do you and Nick have any Christmas traditions?” she asks.
It’s a quick change in the subject, making sure the conversation about her father dies and shifts to me instead.
I leave it.
“No, not really,” I answer. “Christmas was never our playground. Winter solstice, though… That was our favorite.When we were kids, we made these ornaments out of sticks from the woods to hang on the trees along the path.”
I’m trying to find the words to tell her without giving away the whole truth. The icicles we’d decorate the trees with, the snow and crystals we’d leave the villagers, the symbols we left in the sand for children to find so they could brag that they’d encountered the Brothers.
“Of course, this year, we may have to do something even more spectacular,” I say, and she frowns at me.
“Why?”
“To celebrate your birthday.”
Juniper groans. “Ugh. I forgot I told you that.”
“You don’t celebrate your birthday?” I ask.
“It isn’t that I don’t. I’ve just never been able to because it’s on the day of the festival and so close to Christmas,” she says, and I can tell by her tone that it’s a touchy subject.
“That can change,” I say.
She smiles as if she doesn’t believe me. “I’m thirty-two years old. I’m used to the date getting brushed over to celebrate something else. Nothing needs to change.” She pushes out another block, lays it in her pile, and then scoffs so loudly that I almost burst out laughing.
“How exactly did we get on this subject anyway? I thought you would be the ‘fuck first, never ask questions’ type,” she says, face furled in disgust.
I clutch my chest, feigning distress. “I’m hurt. How could you think I’m so shallow?”
She lifts her brows expectantly. “Am I wrong?”
