Page 76 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
I drag a hand over my face, torn in half, but when I look back at him, he’s still there. Waiting. Hoping.
And I break.
“Fine,” I rasp, the word catching in my throat. I grab the ticket, crumpling the edge in my fist. “I’ll go.”
Relief flashes across his face so fast it guts me. His grin is soft, bright, and he leans against the counter next to me as if I just handed him the whole damn world.
“You’re not gonna regret it,” he says, and his voice is so sure it makes my chest ache.
I swallow hard because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that I already regret every secret, every lie of omission, every time I’ve kissed him in the dark but couldn’t reach for him in the light.
But three weeks without him? That would’ve been worse.
So I’ll make the selfish choice. I’ll choose him. And god help me, I’ll pretend it’s enough.
The word still feels jagged in my throat.Yes.
I didn’t mean to say it. Not out loud. Not when it changes everything. But Eli’s standing there, grin splitting his face like I just handed him the goddamn moon, and I can’t take it back.
His shoulder brushes mine, warm and steady, and I can feel the energy humming off him—pure joy, as if he’s too full to hold it in. “No take-backs,” he says, his voice low with triumph.
I press my lips together, fighting the ache crawling up my chest. He has no idea what he’s asking me to step into. No idea what ghosts I’d be walking into that house with, even if it isn’t my own.
But when I glance sideways, catch the brightness in his blue eyes, I know I’m fucked. He’s already got me. And worse? I want him to.
“Guess not,” I mutter, trying to make my tone gruff, but it comes out soft instead.
He beams, practically bouncing where he stands, and my ribs tighten with something that feels too close to happiness. Too dangerous.
I stare down at the crumpled edge of the ticket still clenched in my hand. Like if I let it go, the whole fragile thing between us might vanish too.
It shouldn’t feel like this. It’s supposed to be temporary—just stolen nights, quiet touches no one can see. But every time I draw a line, he doesn’t just blur it; he burns right through it.
And I don’t stop him.
Hell, I can’t.
I clear my throat, force myself to move, to drop the gloves I forgot I’d been holding into the kit, to do anything that looks like control. “You better warn your mom,” I say finally, rough, aiming for humor but missing the mark. “She might regret inviting the Grinch into her house.”
His laugh breaks open the room, bright and unbothered. And it guts me—because he really believes I belong there.
Eli hops back up onto the exam table like he can’t sit still, swinging his legs, grinning like he’s already won the Stanley Cup. “Grinch or not, my mom’s gonna love you. She loves everyone. But she will especially love you.”
The certainty in his voice makes my throat tight. Like he doesn’t even question it. Like it’s already decided.
I shake my head, trying to keep my face neutral. “She hasn’t met me yet.”
“She doesn’t have to.” He shrugs, casual, like this is the easiest thing in the world. “Trust me, you walk through the door, and she’ll shove pie in your hands before you can say peppermint latte.”
I grunt, half amused, half strangled. “Pie fixes everything for you, doesn’t it?”
His grin turns wicked, blue eyes flashing. “Not everything. But it helps. You’ll see.”
The way he saysyou’ll see—as though it’s already settled, and I’m already there, in his world, in his family—it burrows deep into me. Dangerous.
I lean back against the counter, folding my arms across my chest as if that can hold me together. “I don’t exactly scream family-holiday chaos, Starling.”
“You don’t have to scream it,” he says, softer now, eyes steady on mine. “You just have to…show up. That’s all. I’ll do the rest.”
