Page 20 of Knotty, Nice, & Holiday Lights
I don’t know why I feel this terrible. Maybe it’s because I told Will how I was avoiding my family for the holidays?
Flashes of his strange reactions and expressions when I told him as much whiz through my memory, and I cringe inside.
What a selfish bitch…
“I am so sorry, Will,” I tell him softly, my brow so tight it hurts. My fingers twitch, still wanting to go to him, wrap him in my arms, and comb my fingers through his hair, gently.
But I refrain. He’s a complete stranger, and I’m certain he wouldn’t want that from me.
“I appreciate that, Izzy.” His eyes are glistening with unshed tears, but there’s a kindness and appreciation there.
The air has become so heavy in the kitchen that I let out a little nervous laugh and say, “So, did I mention that I ran into my ex here earlier today?”
“Your ex is in Crescent Lake?” Asher’s tone holds a bit of an edge I’m not used to from the usually kindhearted man.
“Are you okay?” Will asks me, concern evident, proving my distraction worked.
“Oh, sure.” My hand waves in front of my face a couple of times. “We don’t hate each other or anything.”
At least, I don’t think so...
“Oh.” Will’s response is light, curious. “May I ask why you broke up?”
Hmm. “Well, we both had our careers at that time, and we kind of… drifted apart, I guess.”
That’s partially true. No need to go into detail about how he’d shut himself in his apartment for days, sometimes weeks, on end, ignoring the whole world—including me—until I was only able to see him when watching his GamerTube streams.
The worst part of it all was that we never even officially broke up.
No, he just stopped streaming for a while, became unreachable via any form of communication, then came back to his content creator accounts from a whole new location.
I may not hate him, but what he did hurt me so badly that I never even tried to date again after.
Realizing my mood has soured, I find both Will and Asher staring at me with varying levels of narrowed gazes.
I let out another nervous laugh just as the timer for the cookies goes off.
“Let me help,” I say, rising from my chair and following Will to the oven where the cookies are smelling like heaven.
Will hands me a spatula before sliding on a pair of oven mitts, then opening the oven door to let out the heat and mouthwatering sweet cinnamon scent. He looks at me and gestures with his chin, “Would you get the cooling racks I set up over there?”
“Sure!” I head to where his chin points and grab the two racks seated in baking trays, bringing them to the counter beside the oven as he takes out both trays and sets them on the stovetop, and I wave my spatula in anticipation.
Will laughs. “We have to let them cool for a few minutes before transferring them. We don’t want to squish them.”
I hum in agreement. “Right. Squished balls are bad.”
Asher spits a laugh behind me as Will’s eyes crinkle.
At least he caught the joke this time, unlike my meat-loving quip.
Then, I shoot over my shoulder with a smirk, “That’s‘bollocks’to you.”
“Thank you for that much-needed translation,” Asher huffs through his laughter.
We spend the rest of the afternoon baking and packing cookies in pretty gift trays. When dinnertime rolls around, we’re still working.
“Crap,” Will breathes before hastily looking around the kitchen. “I’ll clear some space to make dinner.”
