Page 72 of Back to December
His grin is quiet, but it warms me from the inside out. “Yeah. The way it’s escalating reminds me of our detour last Christmas. We lost an entire weekend last time.”
Memories flip through my brain like a slideshow—a sleigh ride, mistletoe, hot cocoa, firelight. Promises that felt like forever.
“Whatever you think,” I manage.
He goes quiet, but presses the cup from Once Upon a Brew into my waiting hand, our fingertips barely brushing with the pass off.
“I thought you might like your usual.”
“Does it have caffeine this time?” I ask.
He smiles again, wide and genuine and utterly Holden. “Yes. I thought you could use some after how busy you’ve been today.”
“My hero.” I angle the cup and center it in front of themassive lit tree. Habit creeps in since my phone is already in my hand. “The cutest to-go cup I’ve ever seen,” I murmur.
“I’m glad you’re still capturing moments like this,” he says, quiet amusement lacing his voice. Not a judgement—just a memory.
“It’s not something I can just turn off.” I snap one picture, but I keep my phone out. “But I don’t want to either. I like that I can scroll through memories.”
“I know you do,” he says. “But don’t forget the messy memories too.”
Maybe that’s what he never understood: messy is what I avoid sharing, not what I forget.
My heart trips over his words. That photo was definitely way too curated and perfect. I may not like wheremylife is at the moment, but it’s definitely messy. And maybe once I find my way out of this, I’ll want these memories too.
Instinct takes over, and I slide my camera back open before I step into Holden. With one quick motion, I flip the camera so we’re centered in the frame. We aren’t the same people we were a year ago, or even two months ago. But that’s okay.
Growth comes from pain, right?
My gut tells me this is a moment I need to remember.
Holden's eyes flicker in surprise before he sets a hand on the small of my back, and that’s right when I snap the picture. There’s a flash of the old Laila in that moment, right when he touched me in that steady, familiar way of his.
For good measure, I turn my phone horizontal and flip the camera once more, taking a more artistic shot so that Ella, Luke, and Lucy only take up the right third of the photo. It’s not perfect, but it’s an extension of my happy place.
My sweet for today. All my favorite people, during one of my favorite months.
Snow drifts even heavier around us, accumulating now in piles as high as the curbs. I clutch the cup tighter and tuck my phone into my pocket.
If this really is round two, maybe it’s not a storm to survive—maybe it’s a story to finish.
twenty-six
HOLDEN
Laila isquiet for most of the drive to the Wanderlust Refuge rental. The snow is falling harder now, almost at an alarming rate. Since Wanderlust Refuge sits nestled out in the country, there aren’t many lights, and my visibility isn’t great. I slow down a bit, grateful that I drive an SUV with four-wheel drive.
“Where are the snowplows? Sand?” Her fingers grip the console between us.
“La, this isn’t Colorado. We’ve seen more snow in the last couple of months than we’ve seen in years. You should see the meteorologists try to explain it.”
I nudge the old CD case tucked between the seats with my elbow:
Christmas Mix Volume 6. The crooked label still carries her handwriting from that first year—our own tiny breadcrumb trail through all of the Decembers we’ve spent together.
She catches the movement and reaches over to pluck itout of the crevice. “You still have these? Holden, you can stream all of this.”
“Maybe I prefer the superior sound,” I say. “You know, it’s actually closer to the master recording in terms of quality.”
