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Weshouldn’thavestarteda second movie. Neither of us wanted to end the night. Gabby had come in at some point but said she had a headache and went to bed. Jocelyn joined us after making herself some ramen for a late dinner but fell asleep on a pillow and blanket on the floor. Now Brie is asleep on my shoulder. I should be freaking out right now, but sitting here with our hands entangled feels so right. I had forgotten how long her eyelashes are. Before I can stop myself, I push her hair off her smooth skin and tuck it behind her ear.
Her long, soft breaths are a contented rhythm against me. I feel protective of her in a way I can’t explain and have no right to feel. The world is crazy out there—trust me, I know. But for some reason, Brie seems safe because she is right here next to me. I draw a circle with my thumb against the back of her hand. I’ll turn off the movie and leave her with her roommates. I don’t want Brie to get a kink in her neck from sleeping here, and Jocelyn needs someone to nudge her to bed too.
I reach over her to grab the remote, and my eyes catch on something sticking out of the cushion on the other side of Brie. My guess is it’s a notebook. I hit the movie off and set the remote aside. The green coloring of the corner of the notebook reminds me of the first night I came by for keys. Wait. Is that her kissing notebook? Whatever it is, it must be important to her. I bet she doesn’t want to lose it in the couch.
I carefully reach over her and give the corner a tug. My fingers barely grasp the front cover, and the notebook falls open as I lift it over to my lap. I plan to set it on the arm for her to find, but my eyes fall on a colorful list she has made on the first page.
My attention is immediately drawn to my name.
#1. I want Rockwell Davenport for Christmas.
My mouth goes dry and my heart pounds. I scan the rest of the list—Brie’s Christmas wish list.
#2. I want him to take me to the family Christmas party, so I don’t have to be lame and go alone. Again.
I mentally place a check beside it.
#3. I want him to dance with me.
I look at Brie’s hand in mine and her small, graceful fingers. It doesn’t matter the style of dance, Brie floats when she moves. I wonder when she danced last. I bet it’s been a while. I’m a little out of practice, but I could force myself to go for her sake.
#4. I want him to kiss me under the mistletoe.
This one would take more commitment on my part, but I will happily volunteer myself for the task.
#5. I want thehappily ever afterwe didn’t get the first time.
A lump forms in my throat. I glance at sleeping Brie, completely oblivious to what’s happening next to her. I don’t know if I can give her this one. I feel like I’ve accidentally read her journal, but I can’t bring myself to close it. Like a typical schoolteacher, she has the date at the top. The date of the night I arrived.
Uncanny.
I remember seeing the gel pens sprawled next to the notebook on the ottoman the night I arrived. Whether this was written before or after she saw me really doesn’t matter. The fact is, I’m what she wants for Christmas. As flattering and unreal as it is, the pressure forms into a heavy weight in my chest, crushing me farther into my seat.
Without thinking, I close the notebook. I reach over her, even more carefully than before, and tuck it back into the couch where she had likelynotlost it but hidden it when I arrived. When it’s safely out of sight, I reluctantly release Brie’s hand and wiggle my arm out from under her head.
Brie rouses and blinks up at me. Those dazed blue eyes hold more of my world than should be possible after all our time apart. “Am I hurting your arm?”
“No.” Is she kidding me? She’s hurting my heart. “It’s late. You should go crawl in bed.”
Her sleepy smile pulls at me. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.” I take in those half-lidded, innocent eyes once more, and know I have to get out of there. “Let me gather your popcorn strings before you go.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean up here.”
She straightens and pulls herself up to her feet. “I can do it in the morning.” She takes Jocelyn’s arms and tells her to go to bed. Jocelyn grumbles and drags her pillow and blanket into a back room.
Brie reaches for the popcorn bowl.
I stand and, without thinking, take her shoulders in my hands. I force myself to turn her away from me and give her a gentle push. “Goodnight.”
She gives me a thankful look over her shoulder, like I’m some great guy. I wish I was. I know I at least want to be the man she thinks I am. “Goodnight,” I murmur.
I tap my hand against my leg until she’s around the corner. I gather up the string and supplies, pick up any errant kernels, and rinse the bowl in the sink. When everything is right in the room, I reach for the light switch by the door. My eyes fall to the corner of the notebook in the couch.
Part of me feels like a million bucks knowing Brie wants me. I don’t know how she forgave me for leaving, but I’m so thankful she did. The other part wants to run while I can. But if I do, Brie won’t get her Christmas wish. She's had enough unfulfilled dreams. It almost makes me want to forgive myself to make it possible.
I rub my forehead above the bridge of my nose. I like Brie. A lot. But no matter how much I care about her, she deserves better. I can’t even see my family farm. My past has really messed me up.
I hit the switch and move to the door. I need to forget about the list. Forget about dancing or kissing or whatever comes after. I need to face the family farm and get out of Bearwood.
