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Chapter Thirteen
Saturday morning I’m up nice and early, my new norm thanks to running and training with Ace, ready to take on the holidays. We’ve agreed to forego our training run this morning in favour of getting me settled in, whatever that means. Once I’m ready, I grab my bag and head downstairs, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet, almost empty halls.
Downstairs, the dining room is deserted, although it’s still relatively early. I suspect that the few students who stayed behind are making the most of the first day of holiday by having a lie-in. Outside it’s cold and crisp, fresh and dry; my favourite kind of winter day. I can’t stand when it’s just grey and wet all the time, to the point where you can’t remember a time when it wasn’t raining. Not today though, today it feels cold enough to snow. Not that I’m a weatherman or anything, but it’s that cold.
I smile when I see Ace walking towards me. After the amount of time we spend sparring together, it’s strange to see him with a top on or out of his uniform. He’s wearing smart dark jeans, sturdy boots, a smart navy brushed cotton shirt which fits him well, and a smile that warms my insides. When he gets to me, he wordlessly takes my bag from me and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. That’s the thing about Ace, even without the language barrier, he’s not really talkative. He doesn’t waste his words, and he thinks before he speaks. I really like that about him. Ace and I have formed a bond where we’re able to communicate with few words. We run, train, spar and work together in a quiet harmony that intuitively just works. He’s easy to be around because I can just relax and be. I don’t have to do anything or be anyone but myself.
It’s refreshing. All my life I was playing a role: Lizzie’s twin; the one who stayed behind; the twin with the dead sister; the daughter who reminds her parents of what they lost; and now Raven Deighton, who’s a little like me I think, but I’m still figuring it out.
None of that matters around Ace. Which is why I’m not too sad when we get to the house and Ace confesses that the other three guys are out of town for the next two nights. After some probing, I find out that although the guys are staying on campus for Christmas, they don’t get out of seeing their families altogether. Ace says it’s too far for him to go see his family for just a few days. I don’t share my excuse: that my parents can’t stand the sight of me, so I live with my grandmother who’s permanently on some sort of round the world cruise. The girl who was never alone because she always had a twin, now has no one.
I shake off the melancholy, determined to enjoy my time in the guys’ house. Okay, so they’re gone for a couple of days. It means I get Ace all to myself. Good. I quickly dump my bag in the guest room, taking a quick look around. It’s a charming room overlooking the garden and the woods beyond, decorated in neutral colours with a beachy rustic vibe. The bed seems really comfy when I have a quick bounce on it, and I have my own en suite. It’ll do nicely, I think.
I clomp back downstairs in my low heeled tan ankle boots, pulling on my red wool coat as I go, and look up to see Ace grinning at me.
“What?” I ask him.
“Your clothes,” he laughs. He’s not being rude, just referring to the fact that we usually see each other dressed a little differently.
“You can talk,” I say, sticking my tongue out at him. “I was beginning to wonder if you even owned a shirt that wasn’t a school shirt.”
He laughs and holds his arm out for me, “We go?” he asks. I take it, and we head out the door and over to the Jeep.
“Oh, I thought the Jeep would be gone? That one of the boys would be using it?”
“Rich parents send cars.” He shrugs. I’m glad about the car though, having access to the Jeep’s more fun than having to walk to town in the cold.
“So what do you need in town? Did you leave all your shopping till the last minute too?” I ask him.
“We need tree.”
“What?! You guys don’t have a tree yet?!” I shriek at him, and he winces.
“You like doing tree.” I’m kind of touched that he remembers. When the topic of Christmas first came up, I told them how sad I was that I wouldn’t be spending it at home. Not because I’d miss my parents, but because I’d miss all our traditions - particularly choosing and decorating a tree. What a lovely thing to do, to wait so that I can go and select one with him. I lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek in thanks.
“What presents you get?”
“I still need to get Rebel and Jax. Do you have any ideas?”
“I think.”
Good enough for me. I’m sure if he thinks of something he’ll let me know. Moments later we’re pulling into the car park of a garden centre, and I give a small squeal. It looks like Santa’s grotto outside, and if the outside looks this good, I’m excited to see the inside. Ace watches me with amusement and shakes his head.
“Child,” he calls me, to which I stick my tongue out at him.
Inside, I’m like a kid in a sweet shop. There’s so many colours, so many lights, so many shiny, sparkly, pretty things, that I don’t know where to look first. I kind of run around, darting from this to that, to whatever catches my eye, while Ace trails behind me struggling to keep up. Eventually though, he stops me with a firm hand on my shoulder and steers me out the back of the shop to the gardens. “Tree first. Shiny later.”
I mock pout at him, but I’m too happy to mean it. I get to choose a freaking tree, after all! The last time I decided on a tree was the year before Lizzie went to West Prep when Dad took us out of school for the day to go tree shopping. We spent the whole day going around town inspecting trees before finally deciding on the perfect one. We celebrated with hot chocolates and got home too late to decorate it. The memory brings a smile to my face, and thanks to Ace, the stabbing pain in my chest that usually accompanies memories of Lizzie is absent.
I smile at him as I point to the section outside that houses the largest trees. Go big or go home was always our family motto when it came to the tree. Ace sighs at me as if he should’ve known all along I’d want a big tree and heads over that way. He starts to point trees out, asking, “This one?” and, “That one?” But I huff at him and explain that he has to do it properly. I show him-
You have to get each tree out and hold it up straight. You bang the trunk a couple of times to encourage the branches to drop a little from where they’ve been bagged up. Then you have to spin the tree to look at it from each angle. It has to be perfect. Ace doesn’t agree. I think he’s bored three trees in, but I ignore him and make him keep going.
“This one,” he says, pulling a tree right from the back of the pile. It’s still bagged, but it’s enormous.
“Bagged,” I tell him shaking my head. You can’t ever take a risk on a bagged tree.
“Trust,” he insists, pulling a penknife from the keyring the Jeep keys are on and splitting the bag. He shakes the tree and quickly bangs it and...I’m looking at the most perfect goddamn tree I’ve ever seen. It’s tall and bushy, but perfectly proportioned. He spins it, and it looks equally good from every angle. There’s no gaps or weird sticky out bits. It’s perfect.
