Page 38 of Seeds of Christmas
“No.” I wipe my tears away. My voice is fierce. “No, it doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you human.”
“Everyone keeps telling me time will heal. That it gets easier. That Dominic would want me to be happy.”
“And?”
“And it’s all bullshit.” He laughs, but it’s bitter. “Time doesn’t heal. It just makes you better at pretending. And I don’t know what Dominic would want because he’sdead, and I can’t ask him, and everyone acting like they know how that feels is just making it worse.”
“It is bullshit,” I agree quietly.
He stares at me. “You’re not going to tell me he’d want me to be happy?”
“I didn’t know him. I don’t know what he’d want.” I meet his eyes. “But I know you’re allowed to feel however you feel. And you’re allowed to run away if that’s what you need to survive Christmas. And you’re allowed to be not okay.”
Carter lets out a breath that sounds like he’s been holding it for months. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not giving me the speech. For just... letting it be hard.” He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry for laying this all on you like this.”
“Stop apologizing for having feelings.”
He rubs his sharp jaw. “I’m not. I’m just not used to…opening up.”
“You are. You’ve apologized three times in the last five minutes.”
“Well.” He manages a smile. “Sorry about that.”
I giggle. “I don’t mind. I’m just glad I’m not at home, you know?”
“So, youarerunning away.”
“Yeah.” He looks at me. “We both are, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “We are.”
“To running away.” He raises his water glass.
I clink mine against it. “To running away.”
We finish eating, and the conversation shifts to lighter things—bad movies we’ve seen, embarrassing moments from otherclasses, the terrible coffee in the geology building. Carter does an impression of Professor Straub that makes me laugh so hard I snort, which makes him laugh, and suddenly we’re both cracking up over nothing.
“Okay, new topic before I propose marriage or something. What’s your stance on the pie situation? Because they brought us apple and cherry and I simply cannot choose.”
“We could split both?”
“Absolutely.” He cuts into the apple pie with his fork. “Okay, prepared to be amazed. This is going to be—” He takes a bite, and his face falls. “Okay, this is actually pretty mediocre. But we’re going to pretend it’s amazing because I hyped it up and I refuse to be wrong.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s definitely that bad.” He takes another bite anyway. “You know what, though? This whole thing—the terrible pie, the community fries, hiding from Christmas in a motel room—this is actually kind of great.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He looks at me, and there’s something in his expression that makes my breath catch. “I haven’t felt this normal in months. Like I can just be me, not Dominic’s little brother or the guy everyone feels sorry for. Just Carter, eating subpar pie with someone who doesn’t expect me to be anything I’m not.”
“I like just-Carter.”
“Yeah?” His smile is soft now, intimate. “I like just-Rhi too. The one who snort-laughs and eats cupcakes for breakfast.”
