The thump of the tree hitting the ground yanks me out of my goddamn day-nightmare.
There’s no daydreaming here.
Tossing the axe aside, I reach through the branches and grabthe trunk. I’ve never really thought about killing anyone. I’m not a fucking psychopath. But Ihaveimagined putting a few bullets in Michael’s head and burying him so far away from civilization no one could find his DNA.
Turning toward the cabin, I drag the tree alongside me.
Ayden watches me with weary eyes. I don’t bother to smile. His ex puts me in such a shit mood, and I haven’t been able to see Britt these past three weeks because of the holidays. My mood swings have been unbearable.
Again, I don’t blame myself for any of it. With Michael, the incident that took Corey, our parents’ passing—it’s a lot.
It feels like far too much for anyone my age to deal with in such a short span of time.
At the steps, I drop the tree and circle around the patio. Ayden has the blanket open, his feet planted to keep the swing from moving.
I slide in beside him, drape an arm over his shoulder, and he immediately snuggles against my side. Once we adjust the blanket, he lifts his legs, and I give us a push to start the swing.
“Mmm, nice and sweaty.”
I laugh, then draw in a deep breath and let it out slow. He mirrors me with a softer sigh, then tilts his head up to look at me. “What do you want?”
Without glancing down, I hum in question.
“For Christmas.”
“Hmm.” I press a kiss to his forehead, rest my cheek against his head, and shut my eyes. “Peace and quiet.”
“We’ll get that…” I love how optimistic he’s become. Over time, I’ve been the one stressed the fuck out—because, truly, I love him and can’t imagine a life without him. There’s so much uncertainty, and too much of it is out of my control…
“Until then,” he continues. “Tell me.”
“Nothing physical, sunshine. I’m not really into gifts. I was making sexual advances toward you earlier.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “Oh, I know. And I also know you aren’t a gift person. Do you want a special dinner for Christmas? I can make Kalua pig like your mom used to…”
The edge of my lip pops, and I squeeze him closer, even if that’s physically impossible.
“We can do aHome Alonemarathon.”
I groan teasingly. “Please no.”
His laugh shifts into a snicker. “Isn’t it your favorite?”
“Okay, smartass. I’ll put onDie Hardfor you, if that’s the case.”
“Noooo.” He drags out the word playfully. “Okay, okay…It’s a Wonderful Life. Did you guys still watch that on Christmas Eve?”
The sadness in his voice hits hard, washing over me like the sweat had earlier.
“We did.”
“ThenA Christmas Storyon Christmas Day?”
I slip my hand under his chin, gripping his jaw to lift his gaze to mine. “How about we start making our own traditions? We can keep those, sure… but let’s add something new.”
His smile shines with hope, and though sadness lingers in his watery eyes, he holds it back.
“I’d like that.”
