Page 58 of Cross Check Christmas
I drift off to sleep with thoughts of Colette's smile, her laugh, the way she felt in my arms during that kiss in the snow. The couch isn't half bad, especially with the lingering warmth from the fireplace, and the sound of wind whistling through the trees outside becomes a distant lullaby.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I jolt awake to the sound of shattering glass and howling wind. I bolt upright, heart hammering. An arctic blast whips through the living room, and something massive looms in the darkness.
"What the heck?" I fumble for my phone, clicking on the flashlight.
The beam reveals shattered glass everywhere and a giant plastic Santa sprawled halfway through the window, his jolly face now looking decidedly creepy in the harsh light. The storm must have picked up the decorative statue from outside and hurled it straight through the front window.
"Hendrix?" Colette's voice carries down the stairs. "What was that noise?"
"Uh, looks like Santa tried to make an early delivery." I kick some glass aside. "Stay back – there's glass everywhere."
Colette comes to the bottom of the stairs, wrapped in a quilt. "Oh my gosh!"
The wind howls through the broken window, sending curtains flapping , and snow swirling in, already forming little drifts on the hardwood.
"We need to cover this somehow." I carefully pick my way through the glass. "Think there might be a tarp in the attic?"
"I'll check." Colette disappears upstairs, her footsteps creaking above me as I collect the larger pieces of glass. I find a broom in the kitchen and start sweeping up the mess while trying to shield my face from the biting wind.
By the time I've cleaned up the last of the glass, Colette returns empty-handed. "No luck with the tarp. Maybe in the shed?"
"Wait." I spot a massive armoire against the far wall. "Help me with that?"
Together, we drag the heavy piece of furniture across the room. It takes some maneuvering – and a few choice words from both of us – but we manage to position it in front of the worst of the damage. Colette's stronger than she looks – though her grunt of effort is kind of adorable.
"There are garbage bags under the sink," Colette says, already heading to the kitchen. She returns with a roll of industrial-strength trash bags and duct tape. While I hold the armoire steady, she tapes black plastic around the edges, blocking most of the wind. It's not pretty, but it'll have to do until morning.
18
COLETTE
Hendrix's teeth chatter as he tries to get comfortable on the couch downstairs. The wind whistles through the gaps around the armoire, and despite our makeshift barrier, the living room feels like an ice box.
"You can’t sleep there," I call down from the stairs. "You'll freeze to death."
"I'm f-fine." His voice quivers with each word. "Hockey players are used to the c-cold."
"Hendrix Ellis, you are too heavy for me to hide your body if you die. Get your stubborn self upstairs. Now."
He hesitates, then grabs his blanket and trudges up. The upstairs of Michelle’s cottage is more of a loft than a second floor—her room is basically a glorified crawl space with a bed stuck in it. With barely enough room for two people to stand between the bed and the wall, I climb onto the mattress to make room for Hendrix to walk in. Khan stretches lazily across my pillow, claiming his territory with feline entitlement.
Hendrix appears with his blankets bundled in his arms—his broad frame filling the doorway. He surveys the tight quarters between the bed and wall, then the bed, and promptly spreads his blanket on the hardwood floor.
"Just take the bed," I say. "I'll sleep on the floor."
"No way am I letting you sleep on the floor. I'll just..."
It’s nothing short of comical to see him wedge himself into the narrow space. At six-foot-two, he barely fits in the gap.
"Oof," he grunts. The floor creaks ominously as he adjusts.
I watch him from the edge of the mattress, hanging my head down with amusement. He looks like a sardine. "Hendrix, don't be ridiculous. Take the bed."
"You are not taking the floor, and that’s final.”
I roll my eyes. "Then get up here with me. There’s plenty of room for both of us."
"Your furry friend seems to think otherwise," he snorts.
