“I’m not sure,” I say truthfully. “But she currently lives in a low-income apartment complex for senior citizens.”
Mallory gapes at me like I announced she eats rocks for snacks.
“What?” I ask, my defensiveness back. “You heard her say she inherited medical debt from her mother. She’s been working two jobs to pay it off as well as going to school part time.”
Mom shakes her head. “I know. That poor girl.”
For the first time, I let Finley’s past really sink in. When I was nineteen, I was in a frat, partying without a care in the world, while letting my parents cover whatever scholarships didn’t. Finley had been slogging through minimum wage shifts to pay off medical bills after her mother died. How much debt had she been saddled with? How long had it taken her to pay it off? How much does she still owe?
I can’t imagine shouldering medical bills alone after the person you tried to save still died. I’ve drifted from my family for years, but they’d be there if I needed them—she didn’t have that.
The respect I feel for Finley is now mixed with a deep, uncomfortable shame.
“Well,” my mother says as though she’s the chairman of a board announcing a decision as she reaches for one of the mugs. “We’ll make sure Finley has a wonderful Christmas.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I know she’ll do everything in her power to make that happen.
Mallory looks up and smiles at the doorway. “Did you check in with your friends?”
I turn around to see Finley walking into the kitchen. She seems lighter than she did when she got home from caroling.
“I did,” she says, coming to the island and resting her hands on the edge. “I assured them I wasn’t on a pirate ship being shipped off to who knows where.” When we give her surprised looks, she laughs. “My friends have very overactive imaginations.” Her gaze drops to the pot on the stove. “The hot chocolate smells amazing.”
“I was just ladling it up.” Mom scoops some into a mug. “Would you like marshmallows? Whipped cream? A candy cane?”
“Or all three,” Mallory suggests.
Finley laughs. “Marshmallows are fine.”
Mallory dutifully dumps a handful of mini marshmallows into the mug before handing it over. “Mom’s secret recipe.”
Finley laughs then takes a sip and smiles—truly, genuinely happy. Over hot chocolate.
When was the last time I was that happy over something so small?
How can she have lived through what she’s been through and not be jaded and bitter?
Mom serves the rest of us. I’m just about to say no—I haven’t had hot chocolate since I was a teenager—but decide to accept. Maybe the secret to happiness is at the bottom of a cup of cocoa. I take a sip, and while it’s delicious, I’m not any happier than I was before.
“Alex says you live in an apartment complex with senior citizens,” Mom says conversationally.
Finley looks a little surprised. “Yeah. After my mother died, I tried living with roommates, but I seem to be a magnet for bad ones. One stole from me, and another had a boyfriend who liked me a little more than he should have.” She makes a face.
Something in me tightens. She’s downplaying it—and I want to know who that asshole was and what he did so I can track him down.
Whoa, where the hell did that come from? I’ve never been a jealous guy, but this isn’t jealousy. It’s a primal urge to protect her. She’s had such a hard life, and I hate that someone made it harder.
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Finley continues, “So after four disastrous roommate experiences?—”
“Four?” Mallory asks incredulously.
Finley’s eyes twinkle. “I told you I’m a bad roommate magnet. It made sense to live alone. Apartments are expensive, but I heard about a low-income complex and applied. Thankfully, I was approved.”
“Even though it’s for senior citizens?” Mom asks.
“I don’t know how I slipped through the cracks, they said it was a paperwork mix up, but let me stay. I’m grateful they did. I met two women there who are now my honorary grandmothers.” Fondness softens her face. “They were the ones checking on me tonight.”
Mom frowns. “Were they worried about you meeting us?”
