Page 66 of Take Me Home for Christmas

My first thought was wondering if he’d heard us arguing in the driveway. If he did, he wasn’t letting on. “One of the residents in our program is having her baby a little early, so Brax had to go back to cover for her.”

“That’s exciting, but I’m sorry Brax had to leave.” He poured blueberries into a bowl and pressed them down with a fork, then sprinkled sugar on them. “How are you getting back to Milwaukee?”

I bit the insides of my cheeks to stave off the urge to cry, because suddenly thinking about surviving this entire day with fake Christmas cheer seemed as impossible as scaling Annapurna. My dad began pouring chocolate chips into another bowl when I managed, “Maybe Caleb. I don’t know.”

He looked up, again with that puzzled look. “We can get you back. No worries.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I held my cup in two hands, trying to take in the warmth. I felt frozen, inside and out. Numb.

Next, he mixed up the batter. But to my surprise, he poured some on the griddle.

“You’re making the pancakes this early?” I asked with surprise. “No one’s awake yet.”

He looked up and smiled at me over his glasses. “You are.” He dropped a bunch of chocolate chips on them as they cooked, just the way I liked them.

I clutched my stomach. “I’m not really sure I can eat right now.”

He watched the batter bubble up, and then pressed the pancakes down so they’d cook evenly. “So what’s going on?”

My dad could always have the most serious of discussions while pretending to be very busy doing something else. I think it was his secret way of getting us to spill all our troubles.

“We fought,” I blurted.

He gave anoh, welllift of the shoulders as he glanced up. “It happens.”

I set my cup down and looked my father in the eye. Before I could get out any words, I burst out with a sob.

Nonplussed, he flipped the pancakes onto a plate and covered it with a big lid—he never could abide them getting cold—and walked around the island, sitting down and wrapping an arm around me. He even ripped off a couple of paper towels on the way and deposited them in front of me so I could blow my nose.

His comforting presence made me bawl even harder. This was the man who taught me how to change the tire on my bike, who sat right here with me at this very table and quizzed me on geography facts so that I won the school geography bee, who taught me how to play poker, who even learned how to tie shoes left-handed so he could teach me, a left-handed person, so I didn’t have to learn the right-handed way. He passed the football to me right along with my brothers to show them and me that girls counted too. I wished my current problems were as simple as all those skinned knees that just needed a wash, a soak, and a Band-Aid.

“Out with it,” he said in a voice that was commanding and calming at the same time.

I was literally out of lies. I was emotionally drained. And I desperately needed someone to listen.

“Brax wasn’t my real boyfriend.” I blew my nose in the paper towel. “Well, he was for a few weeks last summer, but then he dumped me. We just got back together, but I learned this morning he lied to me about that job we’re both competing for.”

He sat back and pondered my words. “I’m sort of having trouble following that, but why’d he dump you last summer?”

“He said it was because we worked together, but it really was that he didn’t feel like he could be good in a relationship.” How to explain this giant mess? “You know he aged out of the foster care system. He’s accomplished so much on his own—he’s amazing, really.” I wondered, what if he’d been telling the truth? That he’d thought the offer was sketchy, had plenty to deal with helping me here, and had simply pushed thinking about it aside? I just didn’t know what to believe.

“The boy certainly looked smitten.”

I had to smile. “Who sayssmitten, Dad?” I blew my nose loudly again.

“Someone who does the NYT crossword every day,” he said with the slightest smile.

I was too distraught to react. “We work together, so we became good friends.”

“Good friends after you stopped dating?”

“Right. Sort of. Except he agreed to come home with me and pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“A fake boyfriend? You’ve been watching too much Hallmark Channel like your mom.”

This twisted roller coaster of a story would be too much for anyone to understand. But I tried to untwist it. “I told Mom about him last summer when I was crazy about him, but then she was going through all the cancer stuff, and I...well, I never stopped. I just kept spinning lies.”

“So he was your boyfriend, then he wasn’t, but then he was, but now he’s not anymore.” He whistled.

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