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I knew what he was really asking. An hour longer with him.
FIFTEEN
BLAZE
My entire bodystill buzzing from the kiss, Trisha and I approached the house. We walked in silence, a content heaviness hanging between us.
Trisha hadn’t pulled away when I took her hand, a gesture I held onto as a sign she didn’t regret our kiss. However, Trisha was leaving soon, and I wasn’t ready to face that finality. Of course, I could find her again if I wanted, but I respected her enough to let her go if that’s what she wished.
As we reached the doorstep, a realization hit me like a sudden gust of wind, clear and undeniable. I absolutely did not want this to be the end. The thought of never seeing her again, not exploring what we had started, felt like a missed opportunity I would regret. It was a shift in my mindset I hadn’t expected, a desire for something more than a fleeting holiday romance.
I wanted things to change.Iwanted to see her again.
I wanted more than this.
Well, damn.
I hadn’t seen that coming.
Inside, Trisha’s cheeks were flushed from the cold, her smile brighter than the string of lights tangled in the fir branches. The room hummed with holiday cheer, but I caught a few raised eyebrows, and my siblings exchanged sly looks. No one questioned our brief escape as everyone settled into playing holiday games, calling for us to join them.
Trisha’s grin stretched wide, announcing she had another hour to spare. I felt a knot form in my stomach when Aunt Theresa nudged Andrea and me together for the game. This matchmaking charade was wearing thin. Even though Aunt Theresa’s heart was in the right place, her attempts to rekindle things with my former crush fell flat. Catching Trisha’s gaze, I managed a wry half-smile, trying to telegraph my irritation with the setup. She flashed back a grin that seemed to read my thoughts, sending a pleasant heat through me.
Of course, Rome quickly jumped at the chance to partner with Trisha. I gritted my teeth as he turned on the charm, his flirtatious banter eliciting giggles from her. I knew it was innocent, but the possessive side of me bristled. I had to resist the urge to stride over and stake my claim.
When Trisha casually placed her hand on Rome’s arm, laughter in her eyes, I had to look away. I busied myself fiddling with the game pieces, trying to ignore the irrational flare of jealousy. She wasn’t mine. I had no right to be upset. But the want simmering beneath the surface made it difficult to stay rational.
The game unfolded before me, but my attention wandered as if I were a viewer lost in the wrong scene of a familiar play.
“I’m grabbing something to drink,” I said suddenly, getting to my feet.
I needed a moment, just a minute, to gather my thoughts.
The kitchen was empty and quiet except for the refrigerator’s gentle hum and the soft glow from the overhead light. I grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and took a long drink, hoping it would quench more than just my physical thirst. The water did little to soothe the knot in my stomach, though.
“Don’t overthink this,” I muttered, leaning against the counter. “It was never meant to be.” I had no right to feel sad, jealous, or possessive. Trisha and I had an understanding—no strings attached, no messy emotions. It was always meant to be fleeting.
I set the glass down with more force than necessary and ran a hand through my hair. My reflection in the windowpane showed a man wrestling with his own rules.
The kitchen door swung open, and Andrea strolled in, her steps silent on the tile floor. Her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that had been absent before. “There you are,” she said with a coy smile. “You missed our turn.”
“Sorry, but I was just?—”
Before I could finish, Andrea stepped closer, her hand reaching up to touch my arm. Her fingers felt like fire against my skin. She inched closer, backing me into a corner where a sprig of mistletoe dangled innocently above us.
“Oh, look,” she whispered, her lips curving into a playful smirk. “Mistletoe.”
And then she kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle or hesitant; it was demanding, insistent—a stark contrast to the kiss I’d shared with Trisha less than an hour earlier. My mind reeled as I placed my hands on Andrea’s shoulders and gently but firmly pushed her away.
“Andrea,” I began, my voice strained.
The kitchen door creaked open again, and there stood Trisha, her eyes catching mine for a split second before they flicked to Andrea’s flushed face and then back to me.
I watched as Trisha’s features shifted like sand beneath a changing tide until they settled into an expression so neutral it felt like a slap.
“I think it’s time for me to head out,” Trisha said evenly, her voice betraying none of the warmth I’d come to cherish over our journey together.
