Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
I started buttering the bread like a pro. The sizzle of butter hitting the hot surface felt like victory—until Ava wrinkled her nose and said, “You’re supposed to use the green one.”
“The green one? What’s wrong with this one?”
“It’s for pancakes.”
She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and I was a jackass for not knowing better. She reminded me of her mother back in the day—full of sass and determination. I sighed and swapped out spatulas because arguing with a four-year-old wasn’t a battle I cared to win. As I flipped the sandwich, she leaned her chin on her hands and gave me a serious look. “You think Santa will come?”
Surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, I looked over at her and asked, “Why wouldn’t he?”
“We moved.”
“And?”
“What if he can’t find us?”
“Hey now,” I said, crouching down to meet her eyes. “Santa can always find you. He’s got magic powers and can find anyone—even you and your momma.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” I tapped her nose. “Santa will be here. Don’t you worry about that.”
The sandwich was done by then, and I slid it onto a plate, cutting it diagonally like Beck always did. Ava gave me an approving nod as I set it in front of her. She picked it up and took bite. After a few chews, she smiled, and it was like hitting the lottery. “You like it?”
“Hm-hmm.”
“Good deal.” I turned off the stove and put the skillet in the sink. “I’m going to go see about your momma. I’ll be right back.”
I walked into the living room and was surprised to find that Beck was no longer lying on the sofa. Thinking that she might have gotten sick again, I went to check the bathroom. When I walked by her room, I was relieved to find that she was curled up in bed. Damn. I don’t know how long I stood there staring at her, marveling at how beautiful she was.
Fighting the urge to crawl in next to her, I covered her up with the comforter and walked out of the room. I hated seeing her so sick and felt compelled to do something to make her feel better. And then it hit me.
There was something I could do, but it was risky. She’d either love it or absolutely hate it. There was only one way to find out.
It was time for me to call in a few favors...
Beck
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so bad. All I could do was lay in bed—half-awake/ half-asleep and cover my eyes with my arm, protecting my eyes from the light. I hated it. I wanted to get up and check on Ava, but the dull ache in my stomach and my pounding head kept me bound to the mattress.
I groaned as I rolled to my side, and I was trying to get comfortable when I heard a loud crash. It was immediately followed by a loud thud and then endless giggles. I could hear Torch’s deep voice, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. There was more movement, rustling, and then Ava’s excited squeals. I wanted to get up to see what was going on, but just lifting my head off the pillow felt like a monumental task.
Ava sounded happy, and that was all that mattered. Knowing Torch and hopefully my mother would keep an eye on her, I let out a sigh and let my head sink back into the pillow.
The sounds continued—laughter, shuffling, and what I swore was the unmistakable thunk thunk thunk of a hammer. I couldn’t imagine what they were doing. I wanted to yell out and demand answers, but my throat was dry, and my body refused to cooperate.
So, I did the only thing I could.
I closed my eyes and prayed that my house would still be standing when I woke up.
The next morning, I felt a little less like death warmed over and more like myself. The house was quiet now, and that alone made me suspicious. I eased myself out of bed and wrapped myself in my comforter before shuffling down the hall.
I rounded the corner into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks when I finally saw what Torch and Ava had been up to.
There was a real Christmas tree in the corner with twinkling white lights adorned on every branch, and fresh pine garland was on the mantle with our stockings hanging beneath. They’d even put out the Christmas village I’d inherited from my grandmother.
Torch was on the couch with one arm slung over the back and one under Ava, who was curled up next to him. They were both fast asleep, and I couldn’t help but smile as I stood there, taking it all in. It wasn’t perfect—the tree was leaning a little, and some of my village was missing —but it was beautiful.