Grant whirls on her, pointing a finger. “Don’t you start.”
“That’s enough!” Dad’s voice cracks through the entryway, sharp and commanding. We all freeze. “It’s Christmas Eve.”
My siblings stay silent, Mallory grimaces at the scolding, but Grant still looks defiant.
“Let’s get your shit out of the car,” Tyler says, striding forward. He slings an arm around Grant’s shoulders and all but drags him out the front door.
Mom looks on the verge of tears. She steps toward us. “Finley, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Finley says sweetly, forcing a smile. “He’s upset about his breakup.”
Mom frowns. “It’s still no excuse.”
“I say good riddance,” Mallory mutters in disgust.
“Mallory,” Mom warns. “You might not like her, but obviously your brother did.”
Mallory makes a face that makes it clear that she thinks Grant’s taste in women sucks, but my focus is on Finley, standing so still she looks like she’s bracing for another hit.
I tug her closer, my arm tightening at her back, and I wrestle with what to do. Should I take her upstairs, away from this mess, and make sure she’s okay? Or stay here and pretend everything’s fine? If I knew her better, maybe I’d know which she’d want.
And then it hits me again—Eloise isn’t here. Which means Grant and I would be sharing the bedroom if I’d never asked Finley to come. Technically, according to our contract, I could let Finley go home. But not tomorrow—on Christmas Day? That would be heartless. The day after?
My heart stutters. The truth is, I don’t want her to leave. At all. I like having her here. She’s been fun, and after the grind of this past year, she’s been a relief. A distraction I didn’t know I needed.
But Mom is still watching Finley, concern etched in her face. “Finley, would you like to help me with dinner?”
Finley glances quickly toward the door, and before she can answer, I cut in. “Can she come down in a bit? We still have a few more presents to wrap.”
“Of course,” Mom says. She hesitates, her voice softening. “I just?—”
The front door crashes open, and Grant and Tyler come stomping back in. Grant’s carrying a duffel bag and a shopping bag, while Tyler hefts a large cardboard box full of wrapped presents.
“I’ll just put these presents under the tree.” Tyler carries the gifts to the living room.
“And I guess I’ll head down to the basement,” Grant mutters bitterly, disappearing through the kitchen.
I squeeze Finley’s hand, but she doesn’t look at me. Her gaze follows my brother instead.
“Let’s go finish.” I tug her gently toward the stairs. We walk into my room, and she lets my hand fall. I shut the door behind us, then I watch as she takes the blanket off the gifts, sinks to the floor, and picks up her scissors.
Helplessness gnaws at me. Does she want to talk about what just happened? Pretend it never did? Or not talk at all?
“You need to finish your wrapping,” she says, trying to sound lighthearted, but it misses.
We should have never gone downstairs. We should have stayed up here and finished wrapping. Then she’d be laughing and teasing me about how bad I am instead of—this. She’s not sulking or pouting. She’s just… sad. And it’s tearing me apart.
Frustration builds in my chest, but I lower myself beside her, grasping for a way back to the easy banter we had before. “You’re cheating.”
Her head snaps toward me, her eyes huge.
“We were racing before we got interrupted, and you’ve already started without me.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not above cheating,” she says. A grin tugs at her mouth, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
God, I hate this. I have to fix it.
“Finley—”
