Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
I picture Trent and his brother stuffing their faces and arguing over video games while their mom bakes in the background. It's a stupid, cheesy, perfect image, and I want to live in it for just one day.
I've never really had that. Our foster parents tried most years, but there were no traditions. It always felt a little like they were just checking off items on a list of things they were required to do for us. Once I aged out, I mostly stopped celebrating. Christmas just doesn't feel magical when you spend it alone most years.
My brothers aren't big on Christmas but they always call anyway. Sometimes, I wish they wouldn't. It just reminds me of how utterly alone I am on the one day of the year when no one should be alone.
Trent must see the look on my face, because he tilts his head. "You should come with me tomorrow."
I almost choke on my coffee. "Excuse me?"
He repeats himself. "You should come with me for Christmas. My parents will love you. Noah will probably try to steal you until I threaten to murder him with his own service weapon. It'll be great."
I try to laugh, but the sound gets stuck in my throat. "You're not serious."
"Why not?" His gaze flits across my face. "I don't want you spending the holiday alone, Sunshine."
"I'm not alone," I say, but my voice cracks halfway through, betraying me. "I have…Netflix. And Chinese takeout."
He frowns, not buying it. "No, Dani. That's not good enough for you. You're coming over for a real Christmas."
I shake my head, trying to pull away, but he just locks his arm tighter around my shoulder. "No way. I'd be in the way. Your family doesn't even know me."
"They'll love you," he says again, like it's a fact. "And you aren't in the way. You're with me." He says it so confidently, like this is just how things are now.
I try again, desperate. "Trent, I can't just–"
"You can," he interrupts. "And you will. Unless you hate the idea of spending Christmas with me, in which case, say the word and I'll shut up."
He waits, staring at me, and I can tell he means it.
I look down at my plate, thinking about all the years I spent eating ramen noodles and stale donuts on Christmas. I think about the last time someone actually wanted me at their table. I think about how easy it would be to say yes.
But I can't.
I'm not that person. I don't belong in a family like his. I'm not good at meeting people, cheesy traditions, or pretending that I belong.
"I appreciate it, but I can't, Trent," I whisper regretfully.
He's silent for a second, and then his hand slides down my back, slow and careful. "You can, but I won't force you. Just know the offer is there, baby."
I nod, not trusting myself to say anything else. If I open my mouth, I might cry. Or I'll say yes, get attached to his family, and then when this all goes to hell, I'll be alone again, only worse.
He finishes his eggs, then leans in and kisses the side of my head.
I let myself lean into him, willing him not to break my heart. I'm a little afraid it's already too late for that, though.
Cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast takes way longer than it honestly should. Every time I try to load the dishwasher, Trent sneaks up behind me and grabs my ass. At one point, he lifts me onto the counter and stands between my legs, kissing me so hard I forget what planet I'm on.
When I finally break free, we're both breathing hard.
"You're not supposed to be manhandling people. You almost died yesterday," I remind him, but the protest comes out weak…mostly because I'm smiling like an idiot.
"You're not people," he says, nipping my earlobe like that proves his point. "You're Dani. That's different."
God, help me. I can't resist this man.
"Hands off, Trent," I warn him, giving him the sternest expression I can manage as he actively tries to slip his hand up my shirt.
He rumbles a laugh and backs away with his hands in the air as if he knows when he's beaten. I still make sure to keep one careful eye on him as I wipe down countertops, just in case.
We finally manage to finish cleaning up, but the mess inside my head only grows worse with every passing minute. The longer I'm here, the deeper I sink. It's a serious problem, especially when I don't really want to leave at all.
There's a saying about fairytales. What is it? Oh, right. They happen to other people. And being with him feels a little bit like magic. I want to keep it.
He leans back against the counter with his arms crossed, watching me like he's waiting for something. Eventually, I can't take the silence.