"What?"
When his hand moves toward me, I tense, but don't move. His fingers slip over my hair, tangling a few strands between his fingers.
"You look like an angel." He murmurs, and I'm suddenly aware of how close he is. "A snow angel. Remember when we used to get all bundled up to go make them in my parents' backyard?"
"Yeah," I step back, and he allows my hair to slip through his fingers. "Where is everyone?"
I knew the memorial would be small, but the church is eerily silent.
Nick nods his head toward the nave, and I swallow.
I know this is what I've been working up to. It's the whole reason I’m here, so I square my shoulders and head to the heavy oak doors, bracing myself for what's on the other side.
Memories of blood and brain matter assault me, like an overlay as I stand there in the threshold, waiting for them to pass. I can see the real church beneath what's in my mind's eye, my friends standing near the altar, but then transposed on top of it is everything from last year— the coroner, the police officers, Father Ryan.
"Nikki!" Alice's voice draws me out of the memory and allows it all to dissolve, so that when she begins walking toward me, it's only her that I see.
She walks fast, and before I know it, she's wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me against her. She smells like vanilla and eggnog, like she spent the evening baking Christmas cookies before she came here. It's what we were doing last year, standing in my mom's kitchen making every kind of cookie we could think of, before I found out that my world had changed forever.
I've barely had a chance to register seeing her again before she pulls back with her lip between her teeth, nervous.
"How are you?"
I don't know how to answer that; I don't have to, either, because her boyfriend comes behind her, draping an arm over her shoulder and grinning.
"Looking good, Nicolette."
I can't tell if it's a genuine compliment or if he's taking pity on me because I look like I have had my soul sucked out of me, but I manage a small grin for him. "Peanut. How's it going?"
"Not Peanut." Alice laughs, turning to get a look at her boyfriend. "How long has it been since anyone called you that?"
"Long time." He grins. "But I'll allow it this time."
The pleasantries end there, when I look beyond the two of them to see who else showed up tonight.
"Nic," Brant nods, and beside him Cole tips his chin toward me in the barest form of acknowledgement.
I didn't expect them to show up tonight; they weren't what I'd consider friends to Noah. But I suppose they're Nick's friends, and he deserves to have them here. He organized this whole thing after all, as an attempt to get us all back together.
Unfortunately, a few of our friends moved away after high school and haven't been back, so our friend group is down to the bones... me, Alice, Peanut, Nick.
We're not much of a skeleton, honestly. More like a skull and crossbones.
"Hey." I offer them a small wave and turn, trying not to focus on the image that's burned into my memory of the steps painted in blood. They used to be carpeted, a beige color that they had to re-do every few years because it would show signs of wear. Now, after all that blood seeped into it, they pulled the carpet up and sanded everything down, staining them a nice, glossy oak that matches the doors.
Even without all the lights on, I can see my reflection in the lacquer as I kneel down at the bottom step and leave the snow globe like an offering.
"Thanks for coming, Nikki," Alice says, rubbing the side of my arm affectionately. "I know it can't be easy."
"No," I agree, managing a smile as I stand up and turn to face her. "It's definitely not."
"Which is why we brought eggnog." Peanut offers, nodding at the pitcher on the table. "Want some?"
"I assume it's spiked?"
"Obviously." Alice laughs. "That's the only way to drink eggnog."
Tonight it is. I'd prefer the bottle of Bourbon they poured into it, but I'll settle for this.
