Page 106 of Before We Break

“What about this one?” Lexi asks.

“Mmm, no. Too small.”

Noah groans, making it clear his patience is wearing thin.

We continue walking with Lexi and Auggie leading the way. I shiver and blow on my hands.

“Cold?” Noah asks.

“A little. I’ll be fine once we get back to the truck.”

He takes my hand and draws me closer, wrapping his arm around me. “Better?”

His warmth surrounds me, and I nod as the ache in my chest intensifies. We said three months, which means our contract ends the day after Christmas and we’ll go back to being landlord and tenant, neighbors, two lonely people who were too afraid to try.

“Ok, Goldilocks,” Lexi says, stopping in front of a disheveled-looking Spruce. “Last one. What do you think?”

It’s short and fat with gaps between the branches and a crooked tip where a topper would go—an excellent choice in my book.

Auggie finally agrees. It’s just right.

When we make it back to the apartment, the street lights are on, and all is quiet on First Avenue. Noah carries the tree up two flights of stairs with little effort, setting it up in the corner of the living room in front of the picture windows.

“Shoot.” I fluff a branch. “I didn’t even think about getting decorations.”

A massive oversight on my part as the self-proclaimed giver of Christmas magic.

Auggie pouts. “Does that mean we can’t decorate today?”

“We could make popcorn garlands and maybe some paper ornaments,” I suggest, thinking out loud for a viable solution that would prevent Auggie’s disappointment. “I might have some leftover decorations we didn’t use on my tree. We’d have to forgo the lights altogether, though.”

“We don’t have to do all of that.” Noah runs his hand through his hair. “I have some old decorations in the crawlspace downstairs.”

NOAH

I sift through box after box of our old shit. Everything from varsity trophies to Emma’s collection of raggedy stuffed animals. It’s like a graveyard of Westons.

This was a bad idea, but Auggie’s pouty face gets me every time, and it was the best solution I had that didn’t involve a thousand craft projects that would keep Clio in my orbit for far too long. The more time we spend together, the more it’ll hurt her when it ends.

My past is just as messy as this crawlspace of cobwebs, dust, and memories I stuffed away ages ago. She has her own ghosts to overcome; the last thing she needs is my messy life interfering with hers after she worked so hard to rebuild.

I find a couple of old boxes labelled Christmas decor and carry them up to the apartment, passing Lexi in the hallway with her phone to her ear. “See ya, kid.”

She waves and continues on with her conversation.

I kick the apartment door shut behind me and deposit the boxes on the coffee table, dusting off my hands. “I can’t promise the lights work.”

Clio lifts the lid off the first bin and pulls out a giant ball of string lights. I do my best to untangle them just enough to test their function. They light up instantly, a luminous sphere of nostalgic red, green, yellow, and blue.

While I work out the rest of the knots, Clio starts pulling out ornaments I haven’t seen in at least a decade. Nausea roils in my gut as she sets them on the table in a neat line chronicling some of the best and worst years of my life.

I expected to find relics from my past, but I wasn’t prepared for how much it would affect me to see tiny handprints pressed into clay with Mom’s handwriting on the edges in black Sharpie. She should be here. She should get to watch her grandson grow up and see Emma thriving in her career. But who would I be then? Who would Jonah have become if things had been different? Would Auggie be here? Would I?

And Clio…

Fuck.

I shove those thoughts away. I can’t get caught up in what-might’ve-beens, dreaming of a life that’s not mine—that’ll never be mine.