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“Then who are you disappointing? Really?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s the principle of the thing. My parents insisted they were okay with me coming here, but then Mom tried talking me out of it. She kept insisting that Christmas should be spent with family.”
Junie tried throwing that fastball at me every year, too. “Christmas should be spent how you need to spend it.”
I was well aware just how gruff this statement sounded. But it was true, and having Grace be fed that same guilt trip irritated me.
Light filled her eyes. She looked at me with curiosity, with hope, begging me to expound.
“You’re a grown, strong woman with books to write and places to go,” I told her. “It’s okay for your mom to accept that.”
She looked at me for so long, my hairline prickled.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Anytime,” I said. “Christmas is no excuse for people to meddle where they don’t belong. It’s your life. You need to live it in the best way for you.”
Maybe that sounded too selfish. Maybe it was. But it was how I felt.
Grace shifted in her seat. “Is that why you don’t have a tree? You don’t celebrate Christmas?”
The question rubbed its finger along my frayed edges, making me recoil. I placed a hand on the table beside my mug and glanced toward the couch where my grandparents had placed their tree when I’d been a child.
“No. I don’t celebrate Christmas. Not anymore.”
Silence followed, and I didn’t know how to fill it. We sat there, facing one another. I could feel her watching me, but I couldn’t bring my eyes to hers again. Not yet.
I cleared my throat. “Anyway. We should probably crash. Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping.”
“Boone,” she said, and I liked the sound of my name on her lips a little too much. “I can’t take your bed.”
“Nonsense,” I said, taking her dish and mine to the sink and rinsing them off. Between the bed and the lumpy couch, the bed was the better option. “This place has only ever had one bedroom, and tonight, it’s all yours.”
Grace followed, holding our mugs and setting them on the counter. Her sleeve brushed my arm, sending goosebumps along my skin.
“I can’t do that,” she said. “Where will you sleep?”
“The couch.”
“But I can sleep there. You should have your bed.”
“What kind of host would I be if I took the bed and left you the lumpy couch? There’s at least one full mountain range beneath the cushions and trust me, it’s the best way to leave you with a sore back in the morning.”
“But you don’t need a sore back in the morning, either.”
“Thank you for considering me, Grace,” I told her, lowering my voice. Except that only made it gravellier. Still, I went on. “But I’ll be fine on the couch. I insist.”
The fight hadn’t yet left her eyes, but she tucked her chin and said, “If you’re sure.”
I chuckled but did my best to hide that fact as I led her toward the closed door across from the couch. The minute we stepped through, a block of cold air smacked straight into me. It was like we were back outside all over again.
Just without the snow and the flurries.
Behind me, I heard Grace inhale through her teeth.
“Brr,” she said, rubbing her arms.
I crossed to the bedroom and reached for the flashlight on the dresser. A beam of light speared through, and I flashed it toward her so she could join me in the small room.
