“That’s fair.” She shifts so she’s fully turned toward me now. I can feel her eyes on me, and it takes everything in me not to look in her direction, because I know if I do, I’ll want to look for a beat longer. “When I first came into town, why were you so upset with me? Did I do something wrong? Was it because my family hadn’t visited in ten years? Was it because you saw how sad Aunt Cindy was?”
“None of that,” I say, my throat growing tight. I’m not sure I want to have this conversation.
“Okay, then what was it?”
My grip on the steering wheel grows tighter as the snow breaks, and only flurries now fall over us. The worst of the storm is behind us, its wake evident in the powdered trees and mountainsides that surround us.
“Seriously, Cole, what did I do?”
“You know, I don’t think this is the sort of conversation we should be having right now.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“Because it’s probably something I should tell you when I look you in the eyes.”
“Oh,” she says. “Well…then pull over.”
“Pull over?” I ask. “We don’t want to be late.”
“We won’t. Pull over, Cole.”
Knowing she’s not going to let this go, I do as she says and put myhazard lights on even though, there’s probably no one else driving right now.
When I put the truck in park, she tugs on my hand, forcing me to look at her. “Talk to me, Cole, because I don’t like this…this animosity between us. It’s tiring. The constant fighting, battling, the fake façade. I’m just…I’m overwhelmed, and I can see that warm side of you come out, that side I used to know.”
She presses her palm to mine, and I entwine our fingers before I look her in the eyes.
Crystal clear.
Not a hint of treachery in them like she’s waiting to strike when I open up, ready to take me down.
There’s genuine care.
Concern.
And it breaks me because it’s been…fuck, it’s been lonely during this time of the year.
And it’s my doing. I’ve secluded myself. I’ve neglected to participate in activities with the town. I’ve been hiding in a hole, only coming out at Christmas to spend a few days with the Maxheimers. I’ve actually been surprised I haven’t received a million side-eyes from the townsfolk. They must be shocked at my abrupt change in personality. Yet they’ve…welcomed me.
But seeing Storee here again, it’s reminding me of all those Christmases when we would build snowmen in our front yards. When we would walk around the town, never holding hands, but enjoying each other’s company while looking at the lights. She’d be freezing, and I’d offer her my jacket. She’d ask questions about what it’s like to live in such a secluded, kitschy town, and I’d reciprocate by asking her what it’s like having access to a beach all the time.
In a weird way, I’ve associated Storee with Christmas. Whenever I saw her family pull up in the driveway, it felt like the season truly started,and, well…after my parents died and she didn’t come to visit anymore, it darkened the season for me, to the point that I didn’t celebrate anymore. Couldn’t. Because there was no joy left for me to celebrate.
“Please, Cole,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Tell me what I did.”
I wet my lips and lean my back against my door. “It was the last Christmas that you were here.”
“The Christmas where I knocked Mrs. Fiskers into the river?” she asks.
“Yeah, that Christmas.”
“That was such a horrible Christmas for me. I was in such a foul mood. If I said anything mean or stupid, I’m sorry. I was embarrassed, I was mad, I was confused about what I wanted to do with my life, and, well, I didn’t have the best Christmas that year. I ended up leaving Christmas Day because I was over it. Taran took me to the airport. Why, what did I say?”
I glance out the windshield, feeling all that pain come back. Because I remember looking for her the next day, despite everything she’d said, hoping to find her, talk to her, have her get my mind off the pain I was feeling, but she wasn’t there.
She had left.
“Cole,” she presses. I try to release her hand, but she doesn’t let me. “Please tell me.”
