“Merry Christmas, Sunny.” He hands it over to me, a smirk pulling his lips.
Laughing when I see what’s inside, I pull out the brand-new scrubs.
“Told you I’d buy you new scrubs.”
“A man who holds true to his promises.” I smile.
“Only sometimes.” He winks.
I unravel them to hold them up and gasp when something tumbles out and into my lap. When I pick it up, I see a brand-new limited-edition copy of Looking for Alaska signed by John Green himself.
Find your way out of the Labyrinth, Sunny.
He remembered.
I swallow the thickness growing in my throat and blink back the unshed tears threatening to fall. My shaking hands fan through the perfect pages, until something falls from it.
“Is this gift inception or what?” I smile, peering up at him as my fingers touch something metal. Holding it up, I realize it’s a key. My brows crease and I look back at him. The soft look in his eyes has my heart picking up pace. I’ve never been so…admired.
“You buy me a new car or something?” I try to tease, but something tells me I already know what this is for.
“When your place doesn’t feel safe, I want mine to be your safe. Everyone else has a key, so it’s only fair you do, too,” he says.
I gnaw the inside of my lips as I look down at the key I twist in my fingers. I nod, with no words able to leave because if they do, I’ll lose the battle of my tears and start crying.
For so long, I didn’t have a safe space. Now, I have several, in all of them.
I’m on my feet and jumping in his lap as I wrap my arms around his neck. He chuckles as he tilts back by the impact, but his arms curl around me in a hug.
“Thank you,” I croak in the crook of his neck.
“Live by those words Sunny,” he murmurs. “Find your way out of the labyrinth.”
He remembered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
TYLER
I standat the top of the monstrous hill, examining what we have deemed the Beast. Cole and Anthony stand on either side of me, holding their sleds as we prepare to start our annual Christmas Competition.
Much like every year, we didn't want to go home for the holidays, so we ended up at an Island themed Christmas party. On our stumble home after too many drinks, we came across this hill. Bring together three competitive drunk guys, and you find us sledding down the damn thing with just our bodies, despite the risk of frostbite.
Because of the alcohol coursing our bodies, lots of throwing up occurred and we decided that as proper elimination of the competition.
Did I mention we stole a tiki statue from the party? That somehow became the trophy for the Beast Race. The tradition stuck, and we told ourselves to pass it onto our kids, too.
The ultimate goal is to go up and down as many times as possible without throwing up. Last man standing wins the titleConqueror of the Beastand gets to claim Tiki, whom we named Sheldon, until the next competition next year.
Chuckling at the memory, I look over at the truck to see the girls all snuggled together in a blanket, sipping thermos of hot cocoa. Sunny clutches her mug, her pert nose red from the cold, the beanie on her head taming the wild tendrils framing her face, but there’s a smile.
My girl.
“Are we going to do this or what?” Anthony jumps up and down, warming his body up.
“I think since this is Sunny’s first year, she needs to conquer the beast too.” I meet her stare as she hears her name. “Initiation, if you will.”
“It’s imperative,” Cole says. “I think all the girls should have to start doing a run on the beast.”
