Page 105 of Before We Break

I cut my eyes to the ceiling of the coffee shop as if I can see inside my own head to count the ones I’ve already completed, running down each design until I’ve math-ed out my answer.

“Four,” I say prematurely. I correct myself. “Five.”

I swap the yarn from light pink to purple to match Emmy Lou’s artwork that’s sitting on the table in front of me. Her design is one of the more challenging ones, complete with rhinestones I’ll have to hand-stitch onto the hat later.

“You going to the ranch for Christmas?” he asks, bringing the paper cup to his lips.

I shake my head. “No. Christmas is… complicated for me, especially now that Aunt Penny’s gone. I love my sister, but her family can be overwhelming. She’s going to come by the day after, and we’ll do our gift exchange then. What about you?”

“I don’t do Christmas,” he says curtly.

I scoff. “Surely you have to do something for Auggie.” I cast my gaze out the cafe windows, smiling at Auggie as he chases Lexi with a snowball. We had our first snow of the season last night, and it shut down half of Kentucky, giving me an unexpected day off. “What about Christmas morning? Presents? A tree?”

“I’ll get him presents, but there’s no way in hell I’m putting up a tree.”

“Oh my god, Noah! He’s four. He deserves a little Christmas magic.”

I abruptly set down my knitting project and grab my phone.

“What are you doing, princess?”

“I just became Clio the elf, wielder of whimsy, giver of Christmas magic.”

He tugs at the back of his neck, but he doesn’t argue, and I count that as a win.

I shove the half-finished hat into my messenger bag and sling it over my shoulder. “The tree farm is open ‘til nine. Let’s go.”

Lexi piggybacks Auggie between the rows of evergreens as Noah and I trail close behind.

“What are we looking for?” Noah asks.

“A tree,” Auggie says, drawing out the word with his arms stretched wide like an airplane.

“I got that part, bud. What kind of tree?”

“The Christmas kind,” he says as if the answer is obvious.

To be fair… he’s not wrong.

“I like to pick a somewhat sad-looking tree that nobody else would pick and give it a new life in a new home. The wonkier the better.”

Noah snorts. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

I playfully shove him with my mitten-clad hands, sending him stumbling sideways.

“Hey. What was that for?”

I shrug. “I didn’t like your tone.”

Lexi stops beside a row of Fraser fir trees. “What about this one?”

The front looks almost perfect, but it’s tilted slightly left, and the back has a big bald spot.

In my opinion, it’s the one, but I don’t have the final say. Our tree has been up for weeks at this point. I’m a slut for Christmas, even if this time of year is a bit emotionally draining. “What do you think, Auggie?”

“Hmm…” he taps his chin and tilts his head to the side. “Too big.”

We carry on down the row, stopping in front of a smaller, sparser tree, some kind of pine this time.