Page 103 of Back to December
Maybe he’ll think it’s funny and tease me about stealing his clothes like he always does.
There’s a crowd behind the house. Tables scattered under the mix of oak and pecan trees, string lights casting a golden light in the shade of the canopy overhead. The Jacksons are here—kids and animals weaving through them all with wild abandon. The string lights cast a golden shimmer through the branches—warm and unreachable, like sunlight through glass.
It shouldn’t surprise me that “breakfast” is this big of a deal, but our family never celebrated like this. Ella broke the cycle somehow, and she’s creating a whole new life for her family.
But when I try to step closer, it’s like there’s a wall. I can’t.
I’m stuck outside this life, exactly like I always feared I would be.
It’s fruitless—I know it is—but I pound on the invisible wall, anyway. My family is in there, and I need to hug Ella, to breathe her in and find a fraction of the reality I know.
Then I see him.
He’s older, silver at his temples. Handsome as ever and trending toward the silver fox look that is wildly understated.
And I missed it.
I haven’t gotten to watch the lines deepen around his eyes or his mouth from where his entire face smiles. Even once a year afforded me the luxury of watching him evolve.
Every moment I ever caught Holden watching me—memorizing me, as he always said—snaps into sharp clarity. I didn’t know the last time I saw him could be the last time.
Wouldbe.
A woman steps closer to him, and I whisper, “Please be me.Pleasebe me.”
Then she turns, and I can see her side profile. It’s clearlynotme.
He dips his head to listen to her say something, and they both laugh—quiet laughter I can’t hear—but I can feel it. He smiles and gazes down at her in a way that he reserved for me.
But now it’s for someone else.
The hope that was built during my last glimpse shatters. Like dropping a glass from the highest story of a building.
I’m not living it this time; I’m observing. The ache in my heart doesn’t hurt any less. In fact, it feels about like that time my mother poured alcohol over my scraped knee instead of peroxide. The pain reaches all the way into my bones and won’t let go.
This should bemylife.
Some people wait their entire lives to find love. I can admit—after seeing many relationships we planned weddings for fall part—it’s like catching lightning in a bottle.
Rare. Dangerous. Thrilling. Miraculous.
And instead of chasing that, instead of standing tall and reaching toward the storm, I shrank from it.
The fear that I’d disappear into someone else’s life wasn’t a warning. It was a prophecy.
And I prevented it—I kept myself safe.
But I disappearedfromeveryone else’s life in the process.
It all comes down to a decision. Free will can be such a bother sometimes.
The words whisper on the wind, the only sound I can make out in this horror story.
“Where are you? What did you do?” I demand.
I spin, anxious to find him.
He’s not hiding this time. Sebastian stands on the edge of the property under the cloak of shade from the trees.
