Something hits my back, and I turn to face the house.
“Bullseye!” Ella cheers from the porch. She’s in her coat and hat, gloves covered in snow, scooping up another snowball.
“Gibson, donot.”
She hops down the steps, almost slipping, and I frown. How is it possible for a fully-grown woman to slip down the stairs as much as she does? I’m forever almost catching her, forever making sure she doesn’t slip on the hardwood flooring in her socks or set fire to her damn ponytail on the rare occasions she attempts to light the fire.
She gently tosses the snowball to Motor, and he barks happily, pushing his nose into the snow and flopping onto his back. She jogs over to the dog, clapping her hands, and he gets to his feet, dancing around her. She laughs as he hops up onto his hind legs, front paws on her chest, and I watch her quietly, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile.
What the fuck?
I frown and look away. “Maybe we should go inside; it’s cold.”
“I put my boots on! They’re impossible to get on! We’re walking.” She heads toward the trees and Motor follows. Reluctantly, I do, too.
We’re surrounded by deep forests, thick tree trunks dark against the crisp snow. Asher and I walked these woods with hangovers; we hid bodies out here, too, when we had no choice. Happy memories.
“What do you do for Christmas?” she asks.
“I bake cookies.”
She scoffs. “Your sarcasm is getting a bit much. Answer me seriously for once, dickweed.”
“I don’t know. It’s my first without Asher. We’d usually just have a few drinks, exchange one gift and one gift only, because apparently, I’m impossible to buy for. Then we’d watch movies and drink more.”
“That sounds nice,” she says, and I look down at her. She has snow on her hat, and her arm is linked throughmine. I didn’t even feel her get that close. “My dad and I don’t do anything for Christmas. He works, and I just don’t see the big deal.”
“That would be yours and Asher’s first argument, then. He loved Christmas.”
“He did?” She beams up at me, seemingly always eager to know more about him.
“Yep. He got the tree; he decorated it. The movies we watched all day were Christmas ones, which sucked.”
“ExceptDie Hard.” We both say it at the same time, and Ella’s eyes light up.
She squeals. “Look at us! We’re bonding.”
And she ruins it.
We reach the river and watch the water, both quiet, her arm still in mine, and I steal some glances at her. Her eyes are always wide, like everything she sees is something to potentially write about.
She taps her temple.
“Why do you do that?”
She looks up at me, nose pink. “What?”
“You tap your temple.”
Ella smiles. “It’s a secret.”
“Is it your annoyance reset button? It recharges the batteries.”
Ella laughs and looks back at the water. “Something like that. Wanna head back?”
We walk back in silence, and I’m glad I lit the fire, because I didn’t realize how cold it was until we return to the house. Ella sits at the bottom of the stairs, struggling with her boots.
“Bodyguard, help,” she says, wiggling her foot at me.
