Page 76 of It's Always Been You
We were at the town’s annual Christmas on the Square event with Jamie, Rebecka, Isabelle, and Teddy. There were Christmas carolers, light displays, a gingerbread house decorating contest, etc. It was pure magic. The highlight of the event was a horse-drawn carriage ride around the square at nightfall, and I couldn’t wait to appreciate all the twinkling light displays, decorated storefronts, and general Christmas cheer.
Everything was going well until it was time for the carriage ride. We took a group photo together, and then Rebecka wanted me to snap a photo of her, Jamie, and Isabelle for their family Christmas card. I obliged, and then I asked her if she’d return the favor for me, Brandon, and Teddy. I know that was a bold move, but I wasn’t expecting such a frosty response from Brandon.
Jamie gave me an odd look at the suggestion, and that’s when Brandon went stone-cold on me. He took the photo with me, but he wouldn’t wrap his arm around me—even when I sidled up to his side and hinted that I wasa little cold.
After the carriage ride, I followed Brandon to Bill’s Baked Goods so he could use the restroom. He didn’t explicitly invite me, but I figured he’d want me to hold Teddy while he did his business. When we got there, I held my arms out, ready to take Teddy.
But Brandon held on to him. My stomach shrank when I noticed the look on his face.
He was mad. I’d never seen Brandon mad before.
“What was that, Evie?” he demanded.
“What was what?” I squeaked, my heart racing.
“Talk of a Christmas card? With me and Teddy?”
I smiled sheepishly, trying to play it cool. But I was sweating like a pig. “What? Too soon?”
Brandon shook his head. “Too soon for what?”
“Going . . . public? About us?” As soon as I said the words, I felt like a fool. Brandon has reminded me that we’re just friends several times over the past couple of weeks. But no matter how many times he reiterates himself, this yearning formorewon’t go away. And I knew, as soon as I saw the hard look on his face, that he was going to remind me of the score yet again.
Shifting Teddy in his arms, he explained for the umpteenth time that we’re just friends, his indigo eyes harrowing and unrepentant. He then said we could “stop” if this was becoming too much for me. And by “this,” I’m assuming he meant our friends with benefits situation.
At that, I panicked. Like, really, truly panicked. Yes, I want more than what he’s giving me, but I don’t want to risk losing what we have, either—even if it hurts. Even if it will never be enough for me. I mean, sure, we haven’t had sex yet, but . . . we might as well have. The things we do in private would definitely be rated R, that’s for sure. I know he’ll expect sex at some point. I guess I’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.
Anyway, I had no choice but to lie and insist this isn’t too much for me. Then I forced a cheery laugh, claiming I’d had one too many gingerbread cookies and that all of that sugar must have gone to my head . . .
He nodded, seeming relieved, and then he reminded me that if it ever does become too much, to just say the word, more or less. I nodded like a stupid, brainless bobblehead, but there was this look in his eyes that made me feel kind of uneasy. I don’t think either ofus would be capable of slamming the brakes on this runaway train—even if we wanted to.
Fortunately, I don’t think either of us want to.
Chapter 24
Evie
IwishIknewwheremy old diary was, so I could reread all the entries that would remind me why Ican’tgo there with Brandon again—no matter how desperately I want to. But the last time I saw that old journal was the morning after my car accident. It fell on the floor, and that was the last time I saw it. It’s been missing ever since—almost like it fell through a hole in the floor. Weird.
So instead of rereading all the entries that would remind me why getting cozy with Brandon again is abadidea, I’m drafting my resignation letter while Grandma and I watchRudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. There’s no way I can continue working for him after what transpired between us this afternoon.
A sneeze explodes out of me unexpectedly, sending a string of snot hurling through the air. I groan and cringe against the pain as I wipe my nose.
Grandma’s knitting hands pause mid-stitch and her rocking chair stills. “That’s the third time you’ve sneezed since we started the movie, Evie.” She frowns. “You must be getting a cold.” She’s across the room and feeling around my face with the back of her hand before I can protest. “You’re burning up, sweetheart. How long have you been feeling unwell?”
“I feel fine,” I insist. Apart from a little lethargy this afternoon and a few measly sneezes, I’ve felt fine. For the most part, anyway. As fine as one can feel when it seems like their back is being slowly plucked apart, vertebra by vertebra.
“There’s a virus going around,” she says, handing me a tissue. “I’ve heard it’s a doozy. Wait here and I’ll get you something.”
I set my laptop aside and stand. She shouldn’t be expending her precious energy taking care of me. “Don’t worry. I can do it.” But as I go to step around her, a wave of vertigo hits me, and I teeter sideways. The world shifts beneath me. “Whoa.”
Grandma reaches for me as I topple sideways. Brushing her off, I tumble down onto the cushions instead. She frowns, and I glare at her in return, appalled she’d try and keep me upright. Of the two of us, she’s the least steady on her feet. The last thing we need is for her to suffer another fall.
I attempt to stand again, but Grandma’s scolding voice startles me. “Genevieve Catherine, sitdown.” Her tone is stern enough to remind me of my wayward teen years. She waits to make sure I’m not going to move before heading for the hall.
While I wait for her to return, it occurs to me that Grandma’s the only true parent I’ve ever had. At least, the only one I could count on to love me unconditionally—no strings attached. My dad has always seemed like an untouchable god by comparison. Earning his love felt about as easy as rolling a boulder up a hill; Dante’s special layer of hell, reserved just for me. Jamie never understood that. He’s always been Dad’s golden child—the one he planned for and wanted. The one who could do no wrong.
As a teenager, I did everything I could to attract my father’s attention after my mom left—negative or otherwise. You name it, and I did it. Drinking, smoking, partying, skipping school. But it seemed like the more I acted out, the less Dad wanted to do with me. As soon as he started talking about shipping me off to boarding school, Grandma stepped in. I lived with her during my junior and senior years of high school.
