Page 78 of The Breakaway

I snorted. “Excellent recommendation.” I took another bite, then washed it down with a gulp of root beer. "This doesn't feel like Christmas.”

Rob raised an eyebrow. “What does Christmasfeellike?”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Rob shrugged. “We didn’t have many traditions growing up.”

I set my burger down. “Why aren’t you going home for Christmas?” I’d wanted to ask him since yesterday, but therewere too many distractions. Rob was from BC, I knew that much, but I had no prior knowledge of his family situation.

He hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of his tray. "It’s complicated."

I stayed quiet, giving him space to continue like he’d done for me.

"My mom died when I was nine," he said finally. "She had cancer. It was fast. One day she was there, and then she wasn’t."

My heart clenched. When we told me about his dad screwing him over for taxes, I’d just assumed his mom was still there for him.

He nodded, not meeting my eyes. "After that, it was just me and my dad. But he wasn’t the kind of guy who knew how to be a parent. He worked long hours at the mill, and when he wasn’t working, he was drinking. By the time I was in high school, he’d pretty much checked out completely."

I swallowed hard, the warmth of the food in my stomach replaced by a cold knot. "That sounds . . . really hard."

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Hockey got me through. I spent more time at the rink than I did at home. My coach—he kind of stepped in, you know? Made sure I had rides to practice, helped me apply for scholarships. He was the one who pushed me to leave BC and come here."

"And your dad?"

Rob shrugged, leaning back in the booth. "We haven’t talked in years. Last I heard, he sold the house and moved up north somewhere. I don’t even know if he remembers I exist half the time."

I blew out a breath. “Welp. I think I’m the asshole.”

Rob laughed out loud. “That’s what you took from that?”

I fell back in my chair. “Absolutely. For the past month, I’ve been complaining about my boyfriend being gone, and then I made you come pick me up and told you my sob story?—”

“Yes, let’s rank our sad childhood histories.” He smirked.

I watched him momentarily, then leaned forward and popped a fry in my mouth. “We need to make this Christmas magical.”

Rob’s grin faded, his brow pinching. The air between us seemed to thicken. “And how do you suggest we do that?”

“I don't know, but we don’t even have a tree. Or lights. Or anything."

Rob's lips twitched. "You want a tree?"

I shrugged. "Maybe? I don't know. It just feels weird to have nothing."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We could put up some decorations."

“Do you have any?”

Rob took a drink of his root beer. “I’ve got something that could work.”

Chapter

Twenty-Six

We crossedonto the Douglas University campus, and I had to work to keep up with Rob's long strides. We passed the bookstore and arts centre, then stopped in front of a brick building I didn’t recognize. He used his keys to open the door, and I stepped into a long corridor.

The air smelled faintly of concrete and cleaning solution. The place was deserted.

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