“We didn’t want managing our careers to feel like your job. We have trainers and analysts for that. We just wanted you to feel free to be our sister,” Logan says.
“But you guys can’t even make cookies without me!”
Logan rolls his eyes. “Of course we can. Lucas’s Oreo cake pops are insane. Uncle Paul ate like twenty last year.”
“You told me you brought Costco cookies!”
“We lied!” Lucas says, frosting the roof of his house until it caves in. “Dang it.”
“Why did you lie?” I ask.
“Because we miss you,” Logan says. He meets my gaze, and when his eyes start welling, mine mirror them. “Being around you makes it hurt less.”
I start crying. “You guys are such freaking turds.”
Logan and Lucas both pull me to my feet into another bear hug that makes Dad’s dog yap his little face off.
When we all sit back down, Coop bumps his leg into mine beneath the table, and I don’t care who’s watching. I lean my forehead into his shoulder.
Dad chuckles and glances at a family picture on the wall. It’s from a few years after Mom got her diagnosis, when she was still able to use a walker. She was so pretty. It always feels odd when people say how much I look like her, but it’s an honor, too. “I hope you’ll all keep looking out for each other, but I think you’vedone your duty to your mom. You’re all old enough to take care of yourselves.”
“Mostly,” Logan says. “Lucas still has trouble untying his cleats when he does a double knot.”
“That was one time! And none of the rest of the team could untie it, either.”
Dad is drinking eggnog, and he snorts it out of his nose, making us all bust up. “All right,” he says, wiping his face. “Lee and Logan, you two watch out for Lucas. Lukie, you get a pass.”
Lucas throws candy at all of us.
After more decorating (Coop is building a mansion while the rest of us are working on shacks), Coop takes a break to get water in the kitchen. He’s still not back after a couple of minutes, so I go into the kitchen and find him staring at his texts.
“Any word?” I ask.
He puts his phone into his pajama pants pocket. “Mom responded to the video message.”
“Oh, let me see!”
“She responded with a note, not a video. She said they miss me and will call me when they can.” He holds his arms out for me, and I slide into the hug, wanting to cry.
“How are you?”
“Fine,” he says, but I know he’s lying. “I’m not going to yell at a brick wall for being immovable.”
His mom being immovable is one thing. Her not spending every second trying to see his face on the screen she has access to is another.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He kisses my forehead. “How areyoufeeling? How is your first Christmas at home without your mom?”
“Better than I thought it would be.”
“Because I’m here, right? I knew it.”
“Shut it, you,” I say. But he’s not wrong. Not at all.
“I noticed you guys don't have mistletoe up anywhere. We’re going to need that if we’re going to make out in front of your family with impunity.”
I laugh against his chest. “We’re not making out in front of my family.”
