“Merry Christmas,” Mom tells me.
“Merry Christmas.” I smile and plop down beside Cody on the other couch.
“Merry Christmas, little one,” Cody teases and forces me into a hug against his rock-hard chest.
“What do you have on? A shield?”
“What?”
“Your chest is like a concrete wall.”
He pats himself. “I’ve been working out more.”
I roll my eyes. “Of courseyou have.”
He wasn’t always into working out; just over the last few years he’s really been into keeping himself fit. It was his coping mechanism after his breakup. Instead of turning to booze or nicotine, he started eating better, running, and lifting weights. But good Lord, he can’t possibly get any more muscular. His biceps are as big as watermelons. One flex of his muscles and I wouldn’t be surprised if his shirt snapped.
“You look thrilled to be watching this movie,” I point out.
He glares at me. “Mom didn’t wanna watchDie Hard.”
“I said the boys can watch that while I’m making dinner.”
“It’s not a Christmas movie,” I say.
“Yes it is. It takes place on Christmas Eve,” he’s quick to say, and I laugh.
“Santa’s here,” Mason’s voice announces as he enters the room wearing very bright red-and-green pajama pants and a shirt to match. He’s got an armful of presents in tow.
“Holy crap, turn the lights off. Do they glow in the dark?” Cody teases.
I laugh. “They do hurt my eyes a little.”
“You can laugh all you want, but this is all they had left last night. So, Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.”
“I think they’re great. Merry Christmas.” Mom gets up to help put his presents under the tree.
“What time are Jesse and Ella coming? Place was dark when I drove up,” Mason says.
“I said nine or nine thirty,” Mom answers.
“We gotta wait untilthento open this stuff?” Cody asks, gesturing to the presents under the tree.
“Youknowwhat we got you,” Mom points out with a chuckle.
He mumbles to himself and takes another sip of coffee.
I head into the kitchen to pour myself a cup as well. It’s beentwo weeks since Brantley and I broke up. I’m doing fine with it all. Weirdly enough, I haven’t cried about it since that night, and I feel okay. The fact that I don’t have to go over to his house for the holidays and do gifts is the most peaceful feeling I may have ever felt.
Wesley and I haven’t seen each other since the day we got back from the trip, other than at church. We’ve texted plenty but he’s been giving me space. Letting me mourn the breakup before we jump into anything.
“I’m gonna need about three cups of that,” Mason says behind me.
“Long night?” I ask.
He scoffs. “You ain’t kidding.”
“Sorry.” I give him a little side hug.
