Page 106 of Back to December
“What did it do this time?” Logan asks. “I love these stories.”
“I feel like I need coffee for this,” McKenna says. “Or tea. Do I need tea? Or does it just need to be a steaming mug? Kermit doesn’t really make it clear in that meme.”
I let out a disgruntled groan.
“You two really are the worst, you know? No, hey Holden—are y’all safe? Are you okay? Just ‘tell me all about the magical house that left you with one bedroom in the whole freaking place’.”
Heavy breaths pant out of me. That felt good, actually.
They both stare back wide-eyed before they lean in closer. “Does that mean one bed?”
“Seriously?”
“It’s classic Hallmark.” When I glare at him, he shrugs. “What? They’re classics for a reason, you uncultured swine.”
“Fine.” McKenna rolls her eyes. “Are you okay? I assumed because you’re not blue with icicles hanging from your orifices like Jack Torrance at the end of The Shining that you’re okay.”
I flatten my mouth into a line. “Sorry, I didn’t freeze to death trying to escape a giant maze.”
Logan smacks a hand on the counter. “There’s a maze now? It never doesanythingcool like that for me!”
McKenna smacks him again, this time on his head.
“Stop it!” he yells. “That’s unnecessary.”
“You’re a running back for the NFL, Logan, are you kidding me?” McKenna glares at him.
He’s got the audacity to look pained and dramatically rubs his head. “I’m prepared for that, Kenna. I’m wearingpadsand a helmet. That doesn’t mean I’m immune to assault by a sibling.”
She rolls her eyes in response.
“Maybe next time, duck,” I suggest.
They both freeze, grinning at the screen like I’ve just confirmed their suspicions.
“I’m so disappointed that I’m missing this,” Logan says, eyes gleaming. “Snowed in, one bed, unresolved tension—this isliterallythe plot of a Hallmark movie.”
“You’re telling me that Hallmark includes homicidal pillow walls?” I ask.
McKenna at least looks confused.
Logan just continues to grin, ticking off more tropes. “She came back home for the holidays. It’s your second—well, wait—what number chance is this now?”
McKenna laughs. “And you have a bakery—there’s always a bakery.”
I’m about five seconds away from face-palming myself and hanging up.
“I didn’t need moral support. Glad I could provide the entertainment this morning.”
“Okay, sorry.” Another smack with the oven mitt. “We’re done. Are you alright?”
I heave a sigh and glance toward the hall where the bedroom is. A thin strip of light seeps beneath the frame. The quiet behind it feels fragile, like the world holding its breath.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Just… waiting for the storm to clear.”
Logan snorts. “You mean outside or in there?”
“Both,” I admit.
