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Rusty watches me for a second before his head bobs once. “Yeah, I figured.”
He scratches at his beard and stares off into the distance for a minute before looking back at me.
“I guess all this is just me saying…you’re adults. I don’t get to have an opinion about who she wants to be with, and the same is true for you. So…” He turns to look me dead in the eye. “So I’d like to say this is my one warning, the whole ‘hurt her and I’ll fuck you up’ thing big brothers do…but really, Abby can handle herself. I don’t need to threaten you.”
I grin at him. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that she’ll put me in my place if she needs to.”
Rusty grins back at me. “Seems like you already know her a little better than I thought you did.”
I snort and pin him with a look.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant, Jackson.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m just giving you a hard time.”
We turn to walk back in from the dock, and Rusty pats me on the shoulder. It tells me we’re going to be okay, him and me, our friendship. It says he trusts me. I like knowing I have his blessing, in a way. He’s the family I’ve always wanted, and I couldn’t imagine losing him.
Although, as we come up on the house and I see Abby stepping out on the deck, her eyes bright and a smile on her face, I know at some point I would have probably made a decision that jeopardized my friendship with Rusty. When I look at Abby, I feel like I finally understand what she was talking about earlier, about the hope chest.
But I don’t need a physical box to place those dreams or hopes in. They can all wait inside my mind, nestled snuggly in the back, in a place I’m not yet ready to admit exists.
A place that, I think, belongs solely to her.
chapter nine
Abby
The rest of Christmas Day goes by in a flash. After we leave the small house Briar and I are renting, we head home to take showers and get ready for the day. Then make our way down to the community center for Christmas dinner. It’s one of the most beautiful things about living in Cedar Point and a tradition I haven’t missed one single time, even during the years I was away for college.
It was started a long time ago, way before I was even alive, by the Mitchell family. Apparently, there was a Christmas back in the ’50s when a lot of families in town were struggling to make ends meet. The Mitchells decided to do a big gathering for everyone in the town, not wanting to single out any of the families who wouldn’t have been able to afford to put a meal on the table. Instead of doing it just the one time, it became a community tradition, and over the past few years, Patty has done a small speech reminding everyone of the importance of family and togetherness.
There are dozens of volunteers who help get everything ready to go the week before the event, and it is no easy task. Essentially, it’s a buffet-style dinner served to anyone who is interested. Turkey. Stuffing. Mashed potatoes. Gravy. Mac and cheese. Green bean casserole. Bread. A few kinds of pie. Everyone brings their own plates and cutlery, as well as drinks and cups, and gets as many portions as they can handle.
Plates and cups in-hand and cutlery in our pockets, we walk the mile and a half from our house to Main Street, and I can’t help but laugh at the confused expression on Jackson’s face when we round the corner and come up on the hundreds of people spread all throughout downtown.
“Everyone’s here for dinner?” he asks.
I nod, holding my plate against my chest as we get in line.
“We’re all family,” I tell him, smiling.
We spend a few hours downtown, eating, chatting, socializing with friends and neighbors. The tall space heaters spread along the walkway mixed with the body heat of so many people helps keep us warm until we decide to head home once the sun starts to set.
And then the three of us sit out on the couch and watch It’s a Wonderful Life before going to bed.
I’m sure it seems like it’s just a normal day, a normal Christmas, and by all accounts, it is. We exchange gifts. We go to dinner. We watch a holiday movie.
But through it all, my attention is hyper-focused on Jackson, on the smiles and winks he gives me and the easy way we seem to talk and flirt and laugh at every chance we get.
So, much later that night, after we’ve all been tucked away in our rooms for a while, I pad quietly down the hall and slip into Jackson’s room. Closing the door behind me, I startle when I find him sitting at the end of his bed.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Trying to decide how long to wait for Rusty to fall asleep before walking to your room.”
I smile at his response and cross to him, enjoying what it feels like when he pulls me against his chest and presses his lips against mine.
I planned on this being some tawdry rendezvous where I sneaked into his room and woke him up with my mouth between his legs, but this is so much better. These long, searching kisses and the way he has me wrapped in his arms make me feel like we’re both lost in each other, like the only thing that exists is the way we’re pressed together and held close.
