Her mom recovered quickly though, pulling me into a warm hug that smelled like cinnamon and confidence. “Brielle, sweetheart! You’re here!”
Her dad barely looked up from the newspaper, but he nodded once. “Good to see you, Brielle,” he said in that calm, always-unbothered way of his that made it feel like I’d never left.
Once I was inside, the house fell into that familiar rhythm. Gina caught everyone up on school gossip while I helped her mom ice sugar cookies in the kitchen, careful to make mine look better than Gina’s just to annoy her.
Mrs. Hutton asked about my classes and whether I’d picked a major. I told her I was still committed to English.
“But you don’t want to be a teacher?” she asked, tilting her head. She passed me the bowl of frosting.
I shook my head. “Not in the slightest.”
“Huh,” she said, as if she couldn’t quite compute that.
It seemed like a common response I was slowly getting used to.
Later that evening, we curled up on the couch to watch a Christmas movie. It was one of those older ones, where the characters rediscover the “true meaning” of the holidays, which always boiled down to some combination of family, forgiveness, and falling in love under twinkle lights.
I was halfway through a mug of hot cocoa when the front door blew open and the film was immediately paused.
A gust of freezing winter air swept through the house. Two men stepped inside, wrapped in dark coats and layers, boots thudding on the tiles.
I didn’t need to see their faces to know one of them was Josh.
Dropping the bags, Josh yanked his beanie off the top of his head. His puff of hair was slightly longer than the last time I had seen him when he was home this past summer.
“Ah, they made it!” Mrs. Hutton stood from the couch and raced over to them. “Oh goodness, so glad you guys got in before the storm.”
“There’s a storm?”
The second gust of wind, sending the door slamming behind them and sealing us off from the heavy snowstorm, was enough for Mrs. Hutton to cock her head to the side sarcastically.
“Just a small one.” She wrapped her arms around her son before looking behind him toward the second person in tow. “I thought you were bringing Lauren.”
Josh shook his head, lips pressed together in answer. He wrapped an arm around his friend I recognized from when he had brought him back home last year and the year prior forThanksgiving and once during summer break when we all went to the beach. “I brought Nick. Don’t make him feel bad.”
“I already have a complex,” Nick joked. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Hutton.”
Mrs. Hutton welcomed them inside, similar to how they had welcomed me and Gina, with a gentle hug and directions on where to put their duffel bags and loads of laundry he had also brought home with him. “It’s so good to see you both.”
The couch was full, as Gina was passed out with her head lolling over the arm.
Looking for a seat, Josh’s eyes flicked around the room before landing on me. He cleared his throat and gave the smallest of shrugs before sinking down onto the couch beside me.
“Hey, Bri. Long time no see.”
“Merry Christmas, Josh.”
“Merry Christmas,” he echoed, the corner of his mouth tugging up.
Conversation picked up again as if no time had passed. The parents asked about the drive, finals, and how they were adjusting to life after fall semester. It was just as they had been with Gina earlier. Josh, in typical fashion, relayed the events of the last few weeks with exaggerated flair, tossing in jokes that made his dad chuckle under his breath and his mom swat at his knee with a playful, “Joshua.”
Nick chimed in now and then with quieter updates, but eventually excused himself, muttering something about an early morning.
As the room settled into a quieter rhythm, Gina stirred beside me, rubbing her eyes. “Bed?”
We said good night to everyone before heading upstairs.
“Sorry about that,” she murmured as we reached the bathroom.
