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I’d put effort into it over the past year, wanting nothing more than to avoid embarrassment, to avoid him so I could try and get on with my life. Hooking up with Austin hadn’t helped; spending the summer hanging out and partying with the lifeguard crew hadn’t helped. Moving to New Hampshire for school had at least put physical distance between us, but it hadn’t stopped me from thinking about him.

I avoided working at BT&G during winter break my freshman year, preferring to spend the time sulking in my room and picturing Turner and Amir being all Hallmark-holiday-movie happy all over my hometown.

That first year of college, on Christmas Day, Anita showed up alone. I assumed Turner was somewhere with Amir, and I tried really hard not to be miserable about it.

I found myself standing near the Christmas tree next to my father, Anita facing him and holding her own while I watched.

“Chris, we’ve been through this a million times.”

“You just don’t see the vision, Anita. You can have a toy store in the commercial space. He can have a toy store. It’s a win-win!”

“We’re not selling, Chris!”

“We? So are you telling me that kid has a say in what happens with your business? Your property?”

“What I’m telling you is that my deal with Turner is none of your business, Chris.” Anita’s hands were on her hips. “But there’s a reason I chose him. And it wasn’t so he could accept a large check from you and watch you turn that historic building into another monstrosity.”

“At Home Breakwater is not a monstrosity, Anita, and you know it! And if you really cared about that kid, you’d see how well he’d make out, running a store in the hotel. A built-in customer base. There’d just be …”

Anita looked at me. “Here it is!”

“You know, some guidelines. Some restrictions.”

“Chris. You and I can have this conversation until the ocean comes and washes both buildings away. The answer will not change. I may be retiring soon, but that building will stand, and Breakwater Toys will always be Breakwater Toys. And you, Christopher Garner”—Anita pointed a finger right in my dad’s face, and I hid behind the glass in my hand to smile at the scene—“will leave that poor boy alone!”

Turner. He wasn’t there, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. Part of me was still extraordinarily embarrassed about last Christmas, no part of me wanted to meet Amir, but some part of me really wanted to see him even if I couldn’t ever brush his hair from his eyes again, or hold his waist until I was brave enough to pull him closer. Even if I could never, ever again brush my lips against his and feel like everything I’d ever dreamed of was finally coming true, even if it would never again feel, for one brief perfect moment, like his dreams were coming true too.

I walked away from Anita and my dad. It was an old argument, and the discussion seemed more like sport for two fierce competitors. I found Mom and told her I was going to Austin’s, and I had every intention of doing so, but instead, my feet found their way to the boardwalk.

It was a somewhat mild night, so I wasn’t the only one out there. Families and couples and even a few other solo walkers were on the boards, admiring the ebb and flow of the ocean in the vibrant moonlight.

I found myself stopping to admire the view, leaning on the railing and facing the familiar stretch of ocean I had always loved, the one just outside Breakwater Toys and Gifts.

Chapter Eight

Turner at Twenty-Six

Iwas staring at the ceiling, wondering whether or not I had turned off the lights on the Christmas tree in the shop. It was Christmas evening, so it really wasn’t a problem to have the lights sparkling out the front window. I knew from past experience that a few people would find their way to the boardwalk, but safety first. I decided to head downstairs and make sure the damn things were turned off.

I hadn’t heard Anita return, so I assumed she was at the Garners. Spending a few hours on Christmas Day with the family had been our tradition since I’d moved to Breakwater Beach, and it had been Anita’s from way before that.

I’d sort of exaggerated my plans for the evening to Anita and Leila, which was why I was in my little apartment above the shop and available to check on the tree in the toy store.

As I hopped down the stairs to the back of the store, I felt a vibration from the device I had tucked in the pocket of the hoodie I had pulled over my T-shirt.

Other than work-related calls, my phone rarely rang. My first though was worry over Anita. That thought was followed quickly by a ridiculous notion that maybe Dalton was calling, wondering why I wasn’t at his house for the holiday.

Dalton.

I hadn’t wondered why my best friend, who actually did regularly call me to check in, hadn’t reached out. Or his mother, who showed me she worried and cared for me every time we were together. Not my friend Martin, who might actually be at the Garners having a drink and laughing with Anita. Or my friend Preston, also with family but who might call to wish me a happy holiday. No, it hadn’t occurred to me to hope any of them were checking up on me.

Instead, the name that popped into my head was my best friend’s brother.

He’d be calling to what, just say hi? To tell me all about his relationship with Austin? To apologize for kissing me a year ago (almost to the day)? To assure me that it had been an egregious mistake?

To promise that it would never happen again, and that we could go back to … what? Seeing each other a few times a year? Working the holidays together during the holidays? Heck, he hadn’t even done that this winter break.

Best I could hope for? We’d go back to being Brett’s brother and Brett’s best friend. Acquaintances, coworkers, tangential friends. At least then I wouldn’t feel the need to hide in my apartment, and we could spend Christmas Day together again, like we used to.