I hear a motorcycle rumble and jump.I go straight to the window.But no one is there.
Out in the living room, Blake hums along to a Christmas playlist.That’s not like him.He’s really laying it on thick.
“You okay?”he calls.
“Fine!”I lie, louder than I mean to.
I get dressed, go through the motions, my morning cocoa, mascara, and small talk.Blake is trying.He always tries, in the way safe men do predictably, politely, until you forget what wanting dick feels like.
He steps behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and I flinch before I can stop it.
“What’s wrong?”he asks.
I spin in his arms.“Nothing.Still shaken from last night.”
“Of course.”He kisses the top of my head.For once, I’m happy he rarely kisses my lips.
“Shaken not stirred,” I joke.Bartender humor that Blake doesn’t respond to.“I’ll be okay.”
“You’re strong, Carol.That’s one of the things I love about you.”
Strong.Yeah, I’m so strong he didn’t think about coming over last night when he heard about the robbery.
I nod, smile the smile he needs, but inside I’m somewhere else entirely, on that biker’s bed in the dark, wrapped in a man who saved me and shouldn’t have touched me, listening to the storm breathe around us while the rest of the world fucking disappeared.
By the time we reach Pine City, the streets still glitter with the aftershock of last night’s storm.This time of year, everywhere looks like Evervale.Every tree downtown is wrapped in white lights, every lamppost draped with ribbons.It should feel magical.It doesn’t.
I’m still thinking about last night.Humbug’s tongue inside me.
Now I’m in Blake’s car, sitting straight-backed while he talks about stocks and family expectations like we didn’t break up three times over those same things.
“Mom’s excited you can make it this year,” he says, glancing at me like I’m a child who might misbehave.
“I’m excited too,” I lie.
The truth sits heavy under my ribs.I haven’t stopped thinking about another man’s hands gripping my ass.
The Bentleys live in an oversized townhouse that looks like it was made ready for magazine covers with white lights, evergreen garlands, candles in all the windows, not a single thing out of place.Blake’s mother answers the door in pearls and nude lipstick, smelling like Chanel and judgment.
“Carol, darling!”she trills.“We were worried the snow would trap you in… what’s that little town called again?”
She knows damn well what it’s called.“Evervale,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Right.The Christmas place.”She gives a tinkling laugh.“It’s so quaint.”
I step inside.The house is warm, the kind of warmth that makes you want to wipe your feet twice and lower your voice.
The twins are already there.Brittany and Blair, identical smiles, identical diamonds flashing on their left hands.Sleek hair, neutral sweaters, and the air of people who never have to clock in anywhere.
“Carol!”Brittany says, air-kissing me on both cheeks.“Still tending bar in that snow globe?”
“Sno-Globes,” I say, thankful they pretend they don’t know about the real boob related theme.“Still.”
Blair smirks.“Must be… festive.”
“Festive pays the bills.”
Blake clears his throat.“Carol likes Evervale.She grew up there.”
