Page 82 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
I hang back a step, awkward as hell, suddenly hyperaware that I don’t belong in this picture. I’m just the extra. The… what? The trainer? The secret?
But then she’s looking at me. Eyes warm, soft, the kind of look a parent hasn’t given me in years. She lets Eli go and comes straight for me, arms open.
Before I can even decide what to do, she’s hugging me. Full-body, real hug, like she’s known me for years. Like she already decided I’m hers too.
“We’re so glad you could come with Eli,” she says, and the way she sayswith Elitwists something low in my chest. Boyfriend-territory obvious. It’s in her tone, her eyes, everything. “Welcome to South Carolina, Max. I’m Ava, but you can call me Mom.”
I clear my throat, my arms finally wrapping around her because I can’tnot. My voice feels rough when I manage, “Thanks for having me.”
She pulls back with a grin that’s pure Eli. “Anyfriendof my son’s is family.”
Behind her, Eli’s watching me, cheeks pink, eyes shining. As though he knows exactly how much this means.
And for once, I can’t even fight the warmth curling through me.
Eli’s momherds us toward the exit with that same unstoppable cheer Eli has when he’s teasing me into another Christmas movie. The humid air hits as soon as we step outside—South Carolina warmth wrapping around me, chasing the Michigan cold right out of my bones.
“Home sweet home,” Eli says, throwing his arm around his mom and kissing the top of her head before helping load the bags into the back of a tan SUV that’s seen some years but smells faintly like vanilla air freshener and home.
I climb into the back seat beside him, trying to make myself smaller, but there’s not much space. Our knees brush, and neither of us moves away.
Eli’s little sister twists around in the front passenger seat, her curls bouncing. “Soyou’reMax Calder,” she says, voice full of curiosity and teenage certainty. “You’re the athletic trainer, right? You help my brother not break himself in half?”
Eli groans, elbowing me lightly. “Ignore her. She Googles everyone.”
She ignores him right back. “Do you play hockey, too? Are you from Michigan? Do you like Christmas?”
“Jules,” Eli’s mom says, half-scolding, half-laughing.
My pulse stutters, but her grin is so open, so much like Eli’s that I can’t even be embarrassed. “Uh,” I say, fumbling for an answer that doesn’t give away everything but doesn’t lie either. “No to Michigan. I used to play in high school. And… I’m learning to like Christmas.”
Jules squints at me like she’s weighing that last one. “Learning? What, do you hate joy or something?”
Eli’s laughing beside me now, shoulders shaking, and I can’t help it—I laugh too. “I don’t hate joy,” I say, turning a little toward her. “Just… never had much reason to get into the whole holiday thing. Your brother’s trying to fix that.”
She beams. “Oh, he will. He’s theworstabout Christmas. You’re gonna be singing carols by the end of the week.”
Eli cuts in before she can say more, voice dry. “Pretty sure I’ve already tried that.”
I glance at him then, and for a heartbeat, the car feels too small. He’s looking at me with that quiet warmth that saysYeah, I know you, and I can’t even pretend I don’t want to kiss him right here.
Instead, I clear my throat and look out the window as the neighborhood rolls by—soft golden light spilling through trees, and houses dressed in twinkling lights. The kind of peaceful I haven’t felt in years.
Eli’s hand finds mine between us, palm warm and sure. He doesn’t hide it. Not even for a second. His fingers slip through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world—like this is normal, likewe’renormal.
And his mom doesn’t say a word. She just glances in the rearview mirror, sees our joined hands, and smiles. Soft. Knowing.
Something in my chest loosens at that. The kind of ache that’s lived there for years starts to ease, like it finally got permission to breathe.
I squeeze his hand once, firm, grounding myself in the moment.
Outside the window, the roads blur by in a wash of sunlight. Jules hums along to the Christmas song on the radio, half off-key, half perfect, and Eli laughs under his breath, thumb brushing slow circles over my knuckles.
And for the first time, maybe ever, I let myself sink into it. The warmth. The music. The family that justaccepts.
Maybe home doesn’t have to hurt.
Maybe it can look like this—his fingers laced through mine, his mom humming, and me not flinching for once.
