“Strangers-to-lovers?” Travis tries out. “But I think best friend’s older brother is better.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to end this conversation. Jesus, people are exhausting.
fourteen
HARMONY
Isit wrong to gang up with your friend and his boyfriend to pick on his brother? Beau has a tell when something is stressing him out. One eye squints. It’s adorable. The more we talk about romantic tropes, the more squinty he’s getting. Travis winks at me. He knows that tell also I assume.
“Oh, there’s always the daddy/daughter one,” Travis says.
“That’s it,” Beau announces as he pushes off the couch. “I’m going out to move more firewood. Reacher!” The dog reluctantly gets off his pillow to follow. Somehow, we all manage to keep it in until we hear the mudroom door slam, then we burst out laughing.
“I always knew you were the best,” Travis says through his laughter. “I’ve got to be honest. I wouldn’t mind having you as a sister-in-law.” Well, that sobers me up in a hurry. Sister-in-law?
“Travis, you didn’t strand me here on purpose did you, like some twistedBeauty and the Beastthing?”
“No,” he says, placing his palm over his heart. “I promise that was not my intention. But I have to admit it was a good happenstance.”
“I agree,” chimes in Trace. “I haven’t seen Beau this festive ever. He’s even more relaxed than normal.”
“If this is relaxed, I’d hate to see him uptight.” Although, I’m pretty sure that was the Beau I found at the stove the first morning I was here. I have to agree, he’s much better now.
“Seriously though, of everyone I know, you’re the only one who’s managed to make him chill a little.” Travis shakes his head. “After Mom and Dad died, he took on so much. Way more than any teenager should. I think he got so used to always having to be ahead of the game, he just stopped living for himself.”
“That had to be so hard on both of you,” Trace says, taking his hand again.
“It was. Except I had Beau to fall on. Who did he have? Not eight-year-old me, that’s for sure.” We sit in silence as the question echoes around the room.
I wish I had been Beau’s age when it happened. Maybe I could have been the person he turned to when he was hurting. But I was way too young to know anything much about grief that profound.
“Well, anyway, let’s not let it mess up Christmas,” Travis says. “What are the plans for the day?”
“Dinner should be ready between one and two,” Trace answers.
“We can open presents after that,” I add.
“Until then, I know Trace brought everything to make gingerbread men and sugar cookies.”
“I did that.” Trace stands and drags us both to our feet. Before I know it, we’re happily cutting cookies out of dough with Christmas cutters that Trace also brought. I’ve just added a star to the cookie sheet when Beau blows back in looking frozen.
“Damn, it’s still colder than a witches—” He stops when he sees me wrist deep in cookie dough. “Is that sugar cookies?”
“It is,” I say. “Here.” Peeling a piece of dough off, I hold it toward him. His gaze turns stormy as he sucks it from my fingers with his lips.
“Whew,” Trace exclaims, fanning his face. “Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?”
“It’s mostly you, sweetie. But, that was pretty good too,” Travis answers. “You know what we need? Music. Do you still have all of the Ed Sheeran albums, Beau?”
“Ed Sheeran, huh? I approve,” I tease.
“I do, but how do you propose we play them? There’s no electricity remember.”
“Oh, I’ve got this. I brought a guitar,” Travis says. “Wash up and make cookies. Maybe we can convince a certain someone to play us a tune while we’re at it.”
He jogs into the living room, and we hear the front door open. He returns a few minutes later with an acoustic guitar. Pulling it from the case, I strum a few chords. Not bad. Then I start singing my favorite Ed Sheeran. I know every song on my favorite playlist by heart. I’ve got this.
They hoot and holler every time I begin a new song. Beau watches me so intently I wonder if he even realizes he’s made close to ten donkeys out of sugar cookie dough.
