Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
All the Christmas warmth accumulated until this point gathers into an enormous ball and turns bleak.
I lie on the couch, shaking, finding it difficult to breathe. Any time I attempt to suck in air, it’s like my lungs are deflating.
“Just breathe, Snowflake—”
“Don’t touch me,” I croak.
“Mom, help her, please.” Asher sounds more desperate than I ever could’ve imagined before this.
Brianna sits on the edge of the coffee table and takes my hand, cradling it. “Breathe with me, dear. You’re having a panic attack.”
Is she right? I’ve never had one of those before.
“Breathe with me,” Brianna says gently. “We’re going to inhale for two seconds, hold, and then exhale for two seconds. Can you do that for me, dear, please? I bet you can …”
It takes a long time, but after following her instructions, I can slowly stop this cramped feeling in my chest.
I sit up. Asher stands on the other side of the table, staring anxiously down at me.
“I’m sorry. I never lose control like that,” I murmur.
“These are stressful circumstances,” Brianna says softly.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Asher says. “I wish I had the answers.”
“I think you should both stay the night here,” Mom says. “You can talk to Dan tomorrow when he’s cooled off. Nothing’s going to get solved when everybody’s got a hot head. My son has gifted me with a home with more bedrooms than I need. You can have my room, Holly. Asher, you can have the guestroom. I’ll sleep on the pullout.”
“No, Mom,” I say. “I’ll take the pullout.”
“I’ll take the guestroom,” I say. “There’s no use me kicking you out of your room.”
I don’t deserve special favors.
“I’ll run to the store and get us fresh underwear and clothes,” Asher mutters. “Somehow, I doubt Dan will want me to swing by.”
That almost makes me cry again. Get it together, Holly. I’m not little Tarantino anymore. I’m a grown woman who makes her own decisions. I have to live with the consequences.
I lose my resolve, calling Dan three more times. Each time, he sends me to voicemail.
Dan: I don’t want to talk. He texts after the third rejection. You need to accept that.
I walk to the window and stare out at the street. Snow has fallen. It would be beautiful if it weren’t for the sadness in me coloring every aspect of reality.
Asher: We can make it through this. Asher texts me as if knowing I need the encouragement.
I think of him downstairs on the pullout, shirtless and brooding. I’m the worst sister ever if these images still come to me at a time like this. It’s like I can’t help it. There’s something wrong with me.
Me: I don’t see how. He’s never going to give us his blessing.
Asher: You’re probably right, but I left this city once before. I can do it again.
Me: You came here to be closer to Dan and your mom. You can’t just leave.
Asher: What’s the alternative? he demands. We’ve let this get out of hand. I let it spiral out of control. I knew you were my Secret Santa. I should’ve had more discipline.
Me: Stop talking like this was a one-way street. I was pretty sure you were my Secret Santa, too. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t stop the kissing, the touching, everything else.
Asher: Either way, I can end this, Asher goes on. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Dan and tell him I started this and took advantage of you. I’ll explain that I’m willing to leave. He’s my best friend, and it’ll hurt, but he’s your family. That’s going to sting so much more. I can’t let you sacrifice your relationship with him.
If I were being reasonable, I’d want this to happen.
Me: You can’t leave before Christmas, I text, knowing it’s silly, but somehow, it’s not. This has been the best Christmas of my life. At least, it was until my big brother started hating me.
Seeing Asher as Santa, the joy he inspired in the kids, and watching him reconnect with his mother and finally embrace the holiday spirit meant everything to me.
Asher: Snowflake, we’re way beyond Christmas now. This is about your future with your brother.
Me: I guess I’m just being immature.
Asher: I didn’t mean it like that, he replies.
Me: When will you leave? I ask.
Asher: Tomorrow morning. I think it’s better if I go alone. Will you be able to find your own way home? Mom will let you stay for a while. It’s better if we don’t see each other, though.
He’s right. I know that. Yet the thought of never seeing him again hurts.
Me: Can you hold me like you did the other night? Just until I fall asleep? I know it’s wrong of me to ask, but if this is the end, I’d like some final moments with you.
Asher: It’s wrong of you to ask, he replies, and for me to say yes. It’s wrong how badly I need that.