Page 83 of Habits

The whole backyard is covered in untouched whiteness.

Pure and whole.

Everything I’m not.

Sighing, I debate between lighting a joint to de-stress or simply crashing in bed, when I hear the faint sound of a car nearing.

“What the …”

Turning around, I leave the now-empty glass on the bar top and start toward the foyer. Dad decided to go to some Christmas dinner with his associates. He wanted me to come, but I brushed him off. I didn’t have it in me to spend one more evening pretending to be something he wanted me to be. Not tonight.

Derek and his dad joined Amelia and her family for dinner since his mom was working the night shift. Or was it the other way around? Either way, it can’t be him.

Not bothering to look through the window, I unlock the door and walk out to the front porch.

White puffs of air come out of my mouth, and the cold makes my skin tingle.

From the doorway, I watch the gray SUV approach, recognizing it instantly. My heart kicks up a notch, but I don’t move a muscle. Bright lights blind me for a moment when the car stops just in front of the house, but then they’re off and I can finally see clearly again.

The door opens, and one toned leg comes out after the other.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my eyes looking at her messy hair and make-up-free face.

God, she looks beautiful.

Her chest lifts as she inhales deeply. “Nobody should spend Christmas alone,” she finally says, shrugging. “And I come bearing food.”

We look at each other from a distance. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold, and she’s shivering even in her thick winter jacket.

Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair. What the hell am I going to do with her?

“Well, if you come bearing food, by all means, come inside.”

* * *

“This is really good,” I mumble happily over a mouthful of turkey. “Want some?”

Shaking her head, she smiles softly from the other side of the couch. “Nah, I’m good. Mom ordered dinner from some fancy catering service.”

I nod my head in understanding, swallowing. “No cooking?”

“Granny wanted to, but Mom is …”

Jeanette waves her hand in the air, trying to come up with the right word to describe her mother, but she doesn’t have to because I understand her completely. My family is the same.

Or, well,wasthe same.

We still have a housekeeper who comes around every day. She cleans the house, does the grocery shopping and prepares the meals. Most days she’s the only other person in this house besides me.

Eating the last of the food, I put the box on the coffee table and take a sip of water, mostly to give myself something to do while I try to settle my mind.

What is she doing here?

The question has been roaming around my mind since I recognized her car coming up the driveway. The last thing I expected when she didn’t answer me back was to see her on my doorstep, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

Jeanette Sanders might be tough on the outside, but underneath her cool exterior there is one very compassionate, although bitchy, heart. I’ve seen it before.

She hides it well. Her walls are so big and strong, but for some reason, I can see through them.

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