From how Sorrow screamed with terror, something fucking bad happened. Someone fucking died. But it wouldn’t be the McCabes that her nightmares were about. Had they known about Sorrow, they’d have come for her, and she would be living in the Bay Area, where their family lives.
Ian McCabe would come for his daughter. Fuck me. He could come for Sorrow and take her to San Francisco. She would get her dream of moving to a big city. Which begs the question, where does that leave me?
Sighing, my gut wrenching with the uncertainty of our future, I do something I wouldn’t do with a girl when around other people. I interlace my fingers with Sorrow’s and drop a kiss on her head. Why stop with the PDAs? I’ve already been doing it since we talked and laughed with Rush and his friends at the pho restaurant.
I kissed her. She smiled, held my face in her palms, and kissed me back. The guys whooped and hollered, causing a raucous that almost got us thrown out of the restaurant. And I’d do it again to see Sorrow’s gorgeous eyes shine with happiness.
Surprised, she turns to me and gives me one of her shy smiles. I smile back. This girl makes me so happy.
“Why? You got a hot date?” Rush smacks his gum, loud. His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. I keep my expression schooled. Sorrow and I are planning on going for a swim in the pool, and he and his boys are not invited.
“Just wondering. That’s all.”
“We go until we can’t feel our face, our fingers, and our toes,” Rush says.
“Um, I don’t like being numb.” She squeezes my hand. Her hand is cold. I take her small hands and sandwich them in mine.
“Thank you,” she says in this soft voice that has my ticker ticking faster in my chest.
“Would you rather stay indoors and have a cup of hot cocoa?” Rush asks.
“Indoors?”
“The ski resort has a lodge with a restaurant and a coffee shop.”
“Do they have a gift shop?” Her voice lifts with excitement.
“You betcha.”
She turns to me and whispers near my ear. “We didn’t pick ornaments for one another. Can we do that?”
“Of course.”
The ski resort is an hour and a half from Cambridge.
Sorrow reaches out and taps Rush’s shoulder. “Can we listen to Christmas music?”
I should be pissed she’s touching another guy. I should pummel Rush for letting Sorrow touch him. Except this peace settles over me. It’s me Sorrow snuggles up to and falls asleep with. It’s me she wakes up to in the morning with a smile on her face. It’s me she teases and shares her paintings and drawings with. Me. Me. Me.
“Why the hell not? You have a playlist, Sorrow?”
“I don’t, but Trace does.”
“Bring it up, bruh. Hook in.”
I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket and connect to his Bluetooth. “All I Want for Christmas” by Mariah Carey fills the cab. The motherfuckers, Beckett and Gunner, belt out the lyrics. They’re godawful, screeching like a bunch of drunk hyenas. I want to cover my ears and protect my hearing, but no way in fucking hell am I letting go of Sorrow’s hands.
Sorrow brings me peace when I’m with her. She makes me happy. Her giving me her truths is refreshing. Sorrow doesn’t play games with my heart. She doesn’t touch me with the expectation of getting something in return.
What you see is what you get with her.
Holy fuck.
I am catching feelings for my little bird who is learning to grow into her beautiful wings.
I won’t admit it.
I refuse to hurt Sorrow by kissing Phoebe in front of her.
