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I roll my eyes. “But really, if this is too much, tell me. We’re friends . . . at least I think we are . . . and you can be real with me. I would generously let you off the hook if it’s a big deal.”
I didn’t want anything triggering him. He didn’t seem jumpy; in fact, he gave off steady, grounded vibes, but I remember all too well the awful night seven years ago. I don’t want to reopen any old wounds.
He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yeah, we’re friends.” It’s dark out, but I see his Adam’s apple bob down in a deep swallow. “We’ve eaten together twice, and you didn’t kill me.”
“The very definition of friendship.”
“Well, I did wonder how much you hated me after the way I left.” His eyes hold the same question as if he needs to know the answer.
I wasn’t expecting our conversation to turn this direction, and I fumble for a moment for the right words. “I might have resented you a little. I didn’t like being shut out without warning.”
He nods, his whole face somber. “In hindsight, I didn’t handle anything well. I’m sorry, Brie. I hope you know it.”
I scratch my cheek, needing to do something with my hands. “It’s okay. I don’t understand completely, but I know your circumstances had to have been bad enough for you to do what you did.”
He nods again, but his face closes off. “Thanks.”
I can tell the conversation is over, and I can’t deny it hurts. He’s shutting me out again. I shouldn’t expect anything else, but remember, my brain doesn’t work logically. Friends. We’re working on a basic level, purely platonic relationship. So I steer our conversation back to those lines to avoid any more awkwardness. “So, friends, huh? Slash hero, I guess, since I did save your life.”
He winces. “Let’s not bring it up in front of your family.”
I giggle. “What about beating you in arm wrestling? Is that safe?”
“If you’re okay with me bringing up how my mom found us sprawled together on the floor.”
I choke on air. “Well said. My family will be intense enough without any of our added stories.”
He gives a soft laugh. “It’ll be fine. If you can put up with my mom, then I can handle whatever those B-named Hollands throw at me.”
“All the B names are a little much, aren’t they. Do you remember them?”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
“Good. Then we can get this party started.” My enthusiasm is forced because I have no idea what we’ve gotten ourselves into. I reach over and put on some Christmas tunes.
Rockwell’s look says,really?It only encourages me, and I belt out the lyrics to rub in my choice, all while keeping my finger over the buttons to keep him from changing them. If he wants to be friends again, he’s getting the real, unfiltered me.
He’s fighting his amusement by acting annoyed, which makes me laugh. Not twenty minutes later, we pull up in Rockwell’s car to my parent’s house, and I almost forget what we’re doing.
“Thanks again for driving.”
“Anytime.” It had snowed all day, covering the ground with six more inches. When I open the door, the moon makes the untouched snow in the fields sparkle like a sprawling lake of crystal. At least the deceiving beauty made for a pretty drive. I’m grateful for Rockwell. Wouldn’t it be nice to have him around more this winter? I push the thought out of my head. I don’t need a chauffeur, even if it sounds marvelous.
“Ready?” I say over the top of the car. I take one step toward my childhood home trimmed in white Christmas lights, but the sudden thought of all the strong personalities contained inside makes me hesitate. I’m not sure who will be the hardest to face: my three mercilessly teasing brothers, my two overbearing sisters, or myWe mean wellnosy parents.
Rockwell comes around to join me. “By the looks of it, you’re the one who isn’t ready.” He glances at my hands. “Are you going to be okay?”
I didn’t even notice I’m wringing them together and immediately stop. “Of course, I’m fine.”
“I thought the non-family member at the family party is supposed to be the most nervous.”
“Ha! Why would I be nervous to be with my own family?” I deliberately march up the path with him easily keeping pace.
“You tell me.”
I push open the front door, making the oversized wreath thump against the wood, and hold it open for him. “See? Not nervous.” I shut the door behind him and swallow deeply. I am so scared. My family is going to make a huge deal about Rockwell coming. We’re barely establishing our friend zone, and a night with my crazy siblings and overbearing parents is going to ruin everything. What was I thinking? I turn around and grab both his arms. “What do you say about saying hi and getting out of here?”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and makes an exaggerated effort in examining me. “Brie Holland, either you’re scared, or you’re embarrassed of being seen with me. I hope it’s not the latter.”
