Page 41 of Back to December
“I’m not a dog,” I tell him.
He may be my older brother, but the ability to bully me stopped a good decade ago. Yet I sit anyway, falling into an empty camping chair.
I haven’t sat around a fire since last winter, when Laila and I pretended to be newlyweds. That entire weekend feels like it happened years ago, not only last December. It feels like I’ve been fighting to get back to the feeling of that whole day. The sleigh ride, the slow dance in the snow, the hot cocoa around the fire, and the quiet confessions that followed. Even if most of that happened in the ugliest, itchiest Christmas sweater I’ve ever worn.
I still think about what she said that night—how marriage wasn’t something built to last, how she wasn’t sure she was built for it either. I wanted to tell her that love’snot something you’re built for, it’s something you build. But I kept it to myself, like half the things I should probably say out loud. I didn’t push then, because I wanted her to feel safe, not cornered. But tonight, something in her eyes looked different. Softer. Like maybe she’s believing in the idea of forever after all.
“Earth to Holden,” Cade says, tossing a branch into the fire. He sips from a can of something from the local brewery. “You look like you’re a thousand miles away.”
“More like back in time,” I mumble, scrubbing a hand down my face.
To my left, Logan turns in his chair, studying the group of women. “She’s over there?”
“Will you stop it?” I slouch in my chair, like I could hide if I wanted to. “Don’t do that.”
“You really think you’re going to ask her?” Logan asks.
All eyes shift to me.
“Kenna has a big mouth.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he grins. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”
I want to tell him she’s my forever, that every breadcrumb leads back to her—but I can’t say that out loud, either. Not yet.
I swallow. “I really want to, but I just don’t know if she’s ready.”
Cade’s laugh is low, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “That’s the thing, though. Love isn’t about readiness. We weren’t ready for this—Holly was hiding from her stepmother, for crying out loud. It’s all about the risk.”
“But she had to be ready to face her stepmother, right?” I ask.
His eyes soften, and he visibly sighs. “That’s a different kind of ready, man. A whole different fight.”
I was afraid of that. And I can’t fight that part for her. Even though I would, a million times over.
Sparks from the fire leap and fall like snow. Laughter floats through the air mixed with the low music playing from speakers throughout the farm. For just a minute, the world slows, and I feel like I could belong here.
“Did you already bake gingerbread men with ‘Mr.’ and ‘Mrs.’ on them?” Logan asks.
The stress of the last week bubbles over.
“I can’t believe you’re giving me grief about this when you can barely bake toaster strudel,” I say.
Cade chokes on his beer, and all eyes swing to me.
“You’re the only one with room to give advice,” I tell Cade. “But you—Logan—you really have no room to talk. You couldn’t even keep your marriage together.” The words topple out before I can stop them.
The words hang heavy in the air as all eyes swing to Logan, and his glare says I crossed a line. I rarely fight dirty, but I’m tired and I’m sick and tired of feeling like ‘the odd man’ out.
Ofeverything.
Various forms of “You weremarried?”and“To who?”fly around the circle.
I leave out the part that he was married—briefly—to the woman who became the team nutritionist. The conversation would take a turn I couldn’t steer out of, and while Logan annoys me, I’m not cruel. We all know he loved her, even if he won’t admit it. It was just terrible timing, a fast decision right before he drafted early.
That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about, the timing. How something real can unravel because you move too fast.
“Dude,” he says through clenched teeth. “That is not cool.”
