“Thank you, son. Thank you.”
Jesus. What a roller coaster.
“Come in,” said Gran. “All the heat’s leaving and—”
“Oh, I gotta—” Micah couldn’t get more than a few words past my grandmother.
“No. No, you come in and have a drink or a cocoa or—”
“Dogs are in the truck. Better get going.” He stepped back, stiff and stubborn. “Have a great one.”
“You sure, son?” Gus narrowed his eyes at Micah.
“It’s ah…been…” He turned to Gran. “Really nice meeting you, ma’am. Sir.” He cleared his throat a couple times and glanced my way. “Christa.”
I opened my mouth to say something, to ask him to stay, maybe, to tell him…something. But it didn’t come fast enough. As I stood there, trying my damnedest to come up with something, he was gone.
He didn’t want this. He didn’t want me.
Taking off without a real goodbye proved it. He’d go back to his house, to his simple life and I’d go back to…
I shut my eyes against the painful prick of tears, and swallowed.
No strings. No relationships. He’d told me that. And I’d been okay with it, then. Before.
It didn’t feel so good right now. It felt like a loss, and I’d had enough of those to recognize the sensation.
Then again, how could I lose something I’d never had?
36
Micah
Iknocked, which felt like a weird thing to do, since I’d grown up in this house.
Cindy yanked open the door, letting out a warm waft of Christmas that wrapped me like a blanket. Like home.
“Oh. My. Gawd. Mom!Mooooom!” Cindy screamed like she used to when we were kids, and took off at a run, leaving me standing in the doorway like a dick. “It’s Micah!”
“What? What?” Mom sounded just as crazed. She hurried from the kitchen, nearly crashing into my sister, and stopped at the end of the hall, breathless.
After that, it was mayhem. Kids crawled out of the woodwork. There was Christmas shit everywhere—streamers and lights, people in ridiculous sweaters bumping into each other to get to me.
Everybody piled on top of me with hugs and kisses and questions. My brothers-in-law, dudes I barely knew, patted me on the back. Someone shoved a cold beer into my hand. I pressed it to my forehead.
A screechy carol blasted in the living room. Somebody’d better turn it down before I—
Brownie bumped my leg and I reached for her. Bear ate up the attention from my nieces and nephews, but Brownie’d never been one for crowds. I dug my fingers into her fur and rubbed, not sure who I was trying to calm.
“D’you get the gifts? Amber made the…”
“Did someone save a piece of cake? Micah needs cake. There’s…”
“Hey! Turn off the…”
“Damn, bro, you’re hairier every time I…”
They accepted my presence, like they’d known I’d make it back, eventually. Like a hug I’d never asked for.
