Page 63 of Take Me Home for Christmas

On the way out, Brax kissed me and reassured me that we’d see each other as soon as I got back. But a sudden chill cut through me, an irrational fear gripping me. Everything between us was too perfect. My life didn’t support so much happiness. It never had.

I was wide awake, so I picked up my phone from the bedside table. There was a text from Sam.Call me as soon as you get this,it read.

Thinking that maybe she was about to tell me about April’s exciting news, I called her right away. We’d talk about April, andI’d tell her how wonderful things were with Brax. How that had been the best Christmas present of all.

“Mia, I have to talk to you,” was the first thing she said, her voice strained. My heart plummeted into my stomach. I thought the worst.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as soon as I could force out the words.

“Everything’s fine,” Sam said, “but—I overheard something yesterday afternoon that I think you should know. It’s about Brax.”

“About Brax?” He’d just left me. I could hear his truck idling in the driveway and the sounds of him scraping last night’s snow from his windshield.

“Have you heard anything about the BCP job?” she asked.

“Before I left, Robin told me the group would announce the new associate after the holidays. Why?” With everything else going on, I’d forgotten all about it. Frankly, it had been a relief to table thinking about it until after the holidays. That had given Brax and me a chance to take it out of our relationship and focus on what was really important—us. However it worked out, I was certain we could handle it. But I didn’t say any of this out loud.

“Ted Brunner was chatting with Dr. Hebert after rounds yesterday, and I overheard them talking. You don’t know anything about this?”

“No.” I was still groggy, still processing that Brax and I wouldn’t be together on Christmas. I’d wanted him to see how much fun our family holiday was.

Dr. Hebert was the chairman of the Department of Pediatrics, a bigwig. Brunner was probably boasting about something regarding the practice, as he often did. I was struggling to follow what this had to do with Brax or me.

Over the phone, Sam sighed heavily. “Brunner said he let Brax know last week that the job was essentially his if he wanted it.”

“Wait a minute.” It took a while for my brain to catch up. Did she just say Brax basically got offered the job? Lastweek? “That’s impossible. Brax—” would have told me. Of course he would have.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Somehow, Cooper was on the bed, nudging his little nose in my palm, wanting me to pet him and wish him good morning. I did pet him, of course, and like clockwork, he rolled over, belly up. “Brax and I agreed not to talk about it this weekend,” I said weakly. “He never mentioned anything.”

Brax had been the one to suggest keeping business out of this weekend. Could that have been why? Because he’d known the outcome all along?

“Look,” Sam went on, and I was so grateful she was talking, because it felt as if someone had shoved half a bag of cotton balls down my throat. “Brunner was talking in low tones, secretively. He said they hadn’t made a formal announcement yet, but they were going to make an offer soon. I thought you should know.”

I murmured something. Probably an expletive. My head was whirling. And my tongue was clinging to the roof of my mouth. I was beyond thirsty.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam continued. “Maybe I should’ve waited until you got back, but I thought you should know. Did I do the right thing?”

“Yes. Of course. You’re being a good friend.”

Good friends—and lovers—didn’t keep secrets. Like cheating. And like hiding that they’d been offered the job you both wanted.

How could Brax sleep with me when he was keeping such a secret?

“If it helps, you should know people are starting to whisper about BCP. They’re calling it short for Birth Control Pills to poke fun at how they treat women. They’re losing respect, if that’s any consolation.”

I managed to thank Sam for letting me know. Then I sat in bed for a few seconds, trying to think this through. I realized one thing: I didn’t want to wonder about what Brax had been thinking for the next few days until I saw him again. I wanted to know now.

I threw on my slippers and crept quickly down the stairs, opened the door, and bolted out to the driveway, not even taking time to close the door. It felt like wind chill minus ten as the cold cut straight through my flannel nightgown, and the new snow—about four inches of it—instantly filled my slippers and froze my calves. Brax was still sitting in his snow-covered car, white exhaust pouring into the lightening day, the defrost and wipers at full blast.

Thank you, Wisconsin weather.

I could tell he’d been trying to cut out in a hurry, because he’d used his hands to knock the thick layer of snow off his car, and half of it was still there. For what seemed like my whole life, my dad had made sure to equip us with numerous snow brushes, scrapers, blankets, water and granola bars, flares, etc., to the extent that stocking the car for any weather emergency became a family joke.

I had no idea why I was thinking about that now. Only because it underscored that Brax had nobody to let him use a family car, let alone stock it with useful stuff—he’d had no help, no mentorship. He’d done everything on his own and so had learned hownotto count on people.

I got that the job meant a lot to him because of Atticus Pendergast. But it meant a lot to me too. Not telling me about it was just plain wrong. A stunning betrayal.

I tried to hop through Brax’s footprints in the driveway, but I quickly learned that not bothering to put on boots had been a big mistake. As he rolled down his window, his face appeared, drawn and dead serious. “Mia, what’s wrong?” He looked surprised and worried.

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