Page 4 of About Last Christmas
“Can I move it for you?” Leo is already holding the elf like some festively-shaped football under his arm.
“That would be amazing!” Josie practically glues herself to his free arm.
Leo glances over his shoulder, knowing exactly where I’m hiding, and gives a subtle nod. Like we’re in on some covert operation. But I immediately understand his signal and move toward the turtledoves. It’s not as large as Josie’s, so hauling it back to the park bench is simple. Once secured into the ground, I plug it in and flick the “On” switch.
I pat one of the lighted birds. Everything’s set for Gran’s visit tomorrow. I glance at my watch and then the direction Leo went, only to find him approaching. Gran needs her nightly meds in a little over an hour, but maybe I don’t have to return home so quickly.
CHAPTER 2
I’m defying science.My current mood is contradicting every atom in my physiological makeup. Look at me. I’m being outgoing, and I’m not hyperventilating or breaking out in hives.
Once when I had to address the entire high school student body, my skin was so blotchy with welts that mass panic ensued. The general consensus was that I had an allergic reaction to one of the spices in the mushy meatloaf and was dying. I just let the paramedics haul me off in the ambulance. It was easier to say I was hypersensitive to suspicious cafeteria food than admit I’m allergic to people.
So I’m baffled about how eager—and comfortable—I am to wait for Leo. I don’t count the initial moments of our encounter as a sign I’m finally shedding my introverted shell. Because then, I was fueled by an adrenaline rush. It’s that epinephrine spike that empowers people to do crazy, amazing things—like pull cars out of ditches, walk across fiery coals, or, in my case, form full sentences that prove I’ve actually got a brain in my skull. Now that things have settled, it’s usually my cue to scramble for an exit, but instead, I’m lingering next to the turtledoves, watching Leo’s form stride toward me.
He adjusts his beanie and jerks his head toward the fountain. “Josie said she wants to claim that spot by the water every year from now on.”
“You saved my sanity.” I give a slow clap of appreciation. “Such chivalry deserves a hot chocolate. My treat.”
He tosses a glance at the concession stand. “Are those good?”
In the name of all things Christmas, is this man being serious? I open my mouth. Close it. But then the question flies from my lips. “You’ve never had hot chocolate before?”
He chuckles. “You’ve got this horrified look on your face like I just confessed to kicking puppies or tripping old ladies.”
“Uh, that was oddly specific. Do you do that?”
Another smile. “No. Pets and people are completely safe with me.” His voice hints of assurance that goes beyond teasing, as if he wants me to know he’s genuinely a good guy. “And no. I’ve never had one.”
“Not even when you were a kid?”
He shakes his head. “We never had that kind of stuff where I lived. Then by the time I was on my own, I guess I’d outgrown it.”
His phrasing stands out to me.Where I lived. He didn’t sayhome. I’ll let the first part of his remark slide because it’s none of my business, but the chocoholic in me won’t allow the second to go unchallenged. Seriously, I want someone to look at me the way I do chocolate. “This is not like middle school acne.” Or my crush on Big Time Rush. “You don’t outgrow hot chocolate.” Before I can think better of it, I grab his elbow and tug him toward the nearest concession stand. “I need you to keep an open mind. This one will no doubt be watered down,” I say, even as I witness Barbara behind the counter preparing the drinks using one packet for two cups. “But you have to at least try it. Some of my greatest memories are linked to this.”
“Such as?” He watches me as if everything I say is important.
“Like when I was a kid. After I spent the day sledding, Gran always had hot choc …” I realize the line is moving forward, but my legs won’t budge. “You’re looking like that again. Seriously?”
“What?”
“When I mentioned sledding, you had that same blank expression—like with the hot chocolate. Don’t tell me?—”
“That I’ve never been sledding?” His eyes brighten with amusement. “Not sure I should confess since you already pity me.”
I gasp. “I don’t pity you. Okay, I kinda do. What did you do when you were a kid?”
“I lived a lot of winters in the South.”
“But you mentioned earlier that you lived here off and on.”
He nods. “That’s true too.”
He’s purposely being vague, but—as much as it kinda annoys me not to have all the inside information—I’ve only known this man for less than an hour. I shouldn’t expect a Netflix documentary, while I should be settling for an Instagram reel. But I can pull some guesses from what he told me. He said he lived in Silver Creek off and on. He also never mentioned home or family. Should I assume he hasn’t had either? What if he was in foster care and was shuffled around a lot? But would that account for living in the South? Maybe he lived with distant relatives? A military one? I have no idea. Except, I can’t shake the compassion stirring me. “Wait here. I’ll be, like, two minutes.”
He offers a smile, unfazed by my sporadic behavior. “I’ll be here, Greta.”
Wow, I love my name on his lips. Never mind. I have a Good Samaritan act to perform, and I won’t be distracted. I hustle to the parking lot off Main Street, connecting the park and the town’s major thoroughfare.
