Page 37 of A Little Christmas: Rivi
“Ohh no. I left Santa on the couch.”
“Do you want me to go back and get him?”
“I think he'll be okay for a little while. We'll go later.”
“All right. I won't forget, I promise.”
It seemed like such a silly promise, but it meant everything to me. This big grown man sitting next to me was worried about my stupid toy. How could Uncle Trent not see that he was perfect daddy material?
I stretched out my covered feet, pressing on the pink flannel at my knees. My feet were still cold and the heat from the fire soothed them.
“Can you tell me what you were feeling when you left… other than being tired?” Briar asked.
I bowed my head. “You were gone. I didn't know if you were coming back. That was sad and I was upset that I’d ever come here.” My fingers folded across my stomach. I squeezed them tight.
“Poor baby. I know how it feels. Like nobody understands you. But I guarantee you the people here do understand. Trent understands. If it would make you feel better, we can talk to him together. But you should know that right now Trent and I are good. Our talk went well.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Do you know anything about how he and Ozzy met?”
“Ozzy told me a little bit. From his point of view. But Uncle Trent has never really talked to me about it. I didn’t even know there was an Ozzy until last week.”
“Maybe I'll let him tell you. But I can say this. His protective nature is a bit on overkill at times. It keeps him from pursuing things. Or even noticing the cues when someone might want more from him. It has to do with the dominant in the relationship understanding certain lines they can't cross, or shouldn't cross, that might be seen as taking advantage of aweaker individual. The relationships like that must be navigated very carefully when the heart becomes fully involved. Sometimes it's easier to just stay away and not deal with the feelings. People learn to bury their emotions for all sorts of reasons in their lives.”
“Uncle Trent is complicated. Is that what you're saying?”
“Yes.”
“Ozzy did tell me that. With a few details.”
“We are all complicated. Sometimes it takes a little extra work. That's all.”
“That makes sense.”
We talked by the fire for a long time. I stretched out on the fuzzy rug. Briar gave me comfort vibes. With him, I could easily talk about my more personal thoughts. My usual shyness began to retreat. Being with him became as natural as breathing. He accepted me for me.
Within an hour, my stomach began to growl. One growl was loud enough to interrupt us.
Briar laughed. “Hungry?”
“Well, we both skipped dinner.”
He stood. “Wait here.”
I lounged in front of the fire, watching the golden flames, and marveled at how one moment I’d been upset and the next I thought of myself as the luckiest boy alive. It proved to me how much just one person doing nice things could make all the difference in someone’s life. I had three of those people. Mama. Uncle Trent. And now Briar.
Briar returned a few minutes later carrying a tray. He set it on the coffee table behind me. On it were two plates piled with food. Probably leftovers from the dinner. Ham. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. Plus, two bowls with tossed salad, and two plates with enormous slices of chocolate cake. He’d also brought water and Cokes.
My stomach churned and my mouth watered. I knee-walked to the table, sat down and grabbed a plate. Briar sat on the floor across the table from me.
We feasted.
I ate until I couldn’t fit another bite inside me.
Briar stood and put another heavy log on the fire. As we digested the meal, we lay side by side on the rug, listening to the pops and crackles of the new log slowly being devoured. Pine scent filled the room.
Tentatively, I reached out by my side and encountered Briar’s hand. I slid my palm up over the outside of his fingers and rested it there. After about ten seconds, he turned his hand so we were palm to palm. As if it was meant to be, our fingers wove together. His hand was way bigger than mine, engulfing me. It was so right.
