AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s okay, Dad,” I say, as I slap his back and put my arm around him. “If it’s not this dog, it might be another one.”
“Thanks for arranging me to meet him, though,” he says. Tears fill his eyes. “I just…I can’t. I know that dog needs a good home, and I know I can give it…”
“I get it,” Emily says, walking into Dad’s arms. He wraps his arms around her, whimpering, as he breaks down. It makes me uncomfortable to see my dad cry. I know it’s my thing, why I can’t see it. I know Woody’s passing wasn’t my fault. I know Amy’s passing wasn’t my fault.
However, I witnessed both.
Guilt follows me like a stray dog, looking for chicken.
How could I love someone with my whole soul and turn around, years later, and feel for a woman who came out of nowhere?
I didn’t expect Shiloh. Maybe that was the whole point.
22
Shiloh
“I’m not coming out,” Jackson says from behind the bathroom.
“Come on out,” I say into his door, cupping my voice so it travels. “I bet you look great in it.”
“This is absolutely ridiculous, Sunny.”
“Everyone will be jealous. Come on out.”
I hear him coming before he opens the door. His sweater has bells and everything.
When he opens it, I gasp. “Oh my goodness, it’s better than I expected.”
“Please tell me other people will have ones this ridiculous as well.”
“Absolutely. However, yours is the best.”
Ugly Christmas sweaters is in my top five of favorite Christmas things.
The sweater I got Jackson is possibly the best ugly sweater I’ve ever seen.
His sweater is knit, showing a set of washboard abs that insinuate Santa has a six-pack and nipples pierced with bells. The ripped torso is against a mound of snow with a Christmas tree and a mountain of presents. The abs disappear into red pants with a white fur trim.
“I look so goofy.”
“Have you seen mine?” I put my cardigan on that comes complete with a battery pack because tree lights are woven within it and there’s tinsel draping off it. Switching it on, it flickers and makes my face glow.
“Ugly sweaters are getting out of control.” He looks down at it. “I can’t believe I’m going to a party. In this. You’re a bad influence.”
“More like afuninfluence!” I flick one of his bells. Jackson pretends to be aroused, his eyes closing blissfully. His eye is healing nicely, although there’s a faint greenish-yellow hue to his cheek, instead of the pronounced bruise that was there right after it happened.
When we almost kissed in the breakroom.
I must’ve imagined it since he hasn’t tried anything since. The hugs are platonic, nothing too long or too close. No more head tilts into mine. All I want for Christmas is Jackson, and I don’t think I’ll get him wrapped up in a present anytime soon.
It’s just a crush. It will go away once I move back to Sacramento, once I let this go. It’s a friendship that’s convenient because of proximity. Once I’m gone, Jackson will retreat to his apartment and office, going back to ignoring folks who care about him.
I’ll enjoy this version of Jackson while I can.
“Are you ready to go, my ripped Santa?”
“That’s Mr. Santa to you,” he says, turning to the hall mirror. He swings his hips back and forth to ring his bells, and I giggle. I grab my keys, getting one more bell flick in.
