Gavin’s smile grows. The light in his blue eyes twinkles, reflecting the fire as a warm expression takes over him. “She’s one of my favorite people. Forgive Grandad, though. He can be a grump.”
“He helped with her gingerbread house tonight.”
If by helping, Mom meant drinking “tea” that was more whisky than water and telling Alexa when to skip the songs he didn’t like.
“I think I saw him place a sweet on the roof,” Gavin concedes.
Mom sits up, setting her empty cup on the end table. “I was thinking we could plate up all the treats we made today and take them around to some of your friends and neighbors tomorrow. We can sing carols while we do it. How does that sound?”
“Bringing a little Winter family tradition to Scotland, Mom?”
“Trying to,” she says, then looks at Gavin. “Will they find it odd?”
“Not odd.” He glances down at me, and the look in his eyes chases fire down my spine. I can feel his hands on my back and the nape of my neck, his lips trailing a hot path to my ear. A chill spreads over my skin. Is he doing it on purpose?
Judging by his little smirk, he is.
“I can think of a few who will enjoy that,” Gavin says.
“Then there’s Douglas. Will he put up with it?” I ask.
He laughs. “Caroling might just earn you your own set of socks.”
“One can only dream.”
The door to the kitchen opens and Don comes through,tossing us a genial smile as he carries two cups toward the stairs.
Gavin’s laughter fades. “Dad, can I have a word?”
Don pauses on the bottom step. “Eh, what for? I’m taking some tea up to your mum.”
“I’ll come.” He follows his dad up the stairs, his back straight and tall. He glances at me over his shoulder just before disappearing, his mouth quirking into a soft smile while his eyebrows lift, almost as if he’s sayingwish me luck. My chest squeezes as I watch him go, wishing I could hold his hand and be a support at his side. Not that he needs it, but because I want to be there for him.
He can stand up for himself. I know this. He deserves this.
Dad pushes through the door with Luna and Rhys just behind him. They pile onto the couch and the chair.
“Okay. Who wants to play a game?” Mom asks.
“As long as it’s not Garbage,” Rhys says. “We’ve probably overdone that one.”
“I’m up for anything,” Luna says, leaning harder against my arm.
I nod. The distraction will be good. “Me too.”
I don’t want this moment to end. Being together with the fire and the tree and the music and the gingerbread has filled my cup to overflowing, but none of that compares to the way Gavin made me feel tonight. I’m anxious for him to return, to tell me how things went, to know I didn’t give him terrible advice, to know he isn’t going to spiral into a depressive episode.
My phone dings to indicate I have an email, and I scramble to pull it out, anxiously hoping it’s an answer about the Youth Center internship.
Nope, just a sale on Disney earrings at BaubleBar.
Nice, but not what I wanted. Deflated, I slide my phone into my pocket.
“Okay, let’s choose a game.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
GAVIN
