Page 29
Ford looked at the two pairs of feet and let himself want it.
They stayed like that until the beer was gone. Then Cole took the bottles to the kitchen, Ford got the lights, and they went up the stairs quietly.
In the hallway they stopped between the two doors. Ford got a hand in the front of Cole’s shirt and didn’t let go.
“Stay in my room tonight.”
Cole covered Ford’s hand with his own. “She comes in without knocking.”
“I know.”
“When she’s at her mom’s, ask me again.” Cole kissed him once and stepped back. “I want to. That’s not the problem.”
“Night, Ford.”
“Night.”
Cole’s door clicked shut. Ford lay in his own bed and listened to the house settle. He was still awake at two, wanting Cole across the hall, telling himself that what he had was plenty.
THIRTEEN
Charlotte hit the hallway at six in the morning at a dead run, and Cole was awake before his feet found the floor.
He heard her go past his door and down the stairs, then back up, then the muffled negotiation through Ford’s door, and then Ford’s voice, wrecked with sleep, saying something that made her shriek. Cole lay there and listened to the house come apart and stayed where he was. The first hour belonged to the two of them. He could come down after.
His door banged open.
“Big Cole.” Charlotte was in the doorway in the dog pajamas, hair everywhere, holding the doorframe with both hands like she needed the leverage. “It’s Christmas. You have to come.”
“Do I?”
“You have to.” She was already gone.
He put on a shirt and went down.
The bike was in the middle of the living room with a bow on the handlebars, purple streamers on the grips, and Charlotte had gone into orbit around it. Ford stood in the kitchen doorway with two mugs and hair flattened on one side, watching her circle. He handed Cole a coffee without looking away from her.
“Can I ride it outside?”
“There’s four inches of snow on the driveway.”
“Not on the whole driveway.” Charlotte had clearly already thought about this. “There’s a dry part by the garage. I saw it yesterday.”
Ford glanced over. Cole drank his coffee.
“First dry day, we’ll take it out,” Ford said. “That’s a promise. Not today.”
“How many days is that?”
“I don’t know, bug. Depends on the weather.”
She went to the window and looked at the driveway like she could argue with it, then came back and started circling the bike again. Cole leaned against the counter with his coffee and watched Ford watch his kid.
They did the stockings, which took twenty minutes, and the presents under the tree, which took an hour because Charlotte had to fully process each item before the next one existed. Cole sat on the floor with his back against the couch, handed things over when asked, and collected the wrapping paper into a garbage bag.
The helmet was from Cole. He’d picked it up on Black Friday when Ford finally decided which bike to get for her. She put it on before she’d finished getting the paper off it.
At the bottom of the tree there were two left. Charlotte hauled the smaller one out, put it in his lap, and stood back to watch him open it.
