Chapter 5

Great.

So now she was a prisoner in her old, almost-hers-in-the-past, house.

She glared at him, scanned him up and down. Gave him a withering grimace for good measure.

His expression blazed at her. “What?"

Oh, wouldn't he like to know what.

Sorry bud. It's better for all, everywhere, if I zip my mouth. Especially on Christmas Eve. Wouldn't want to have all the live animals playing parts in nativity scenes everywhere in a five-mile radius self-combusting.

And with that thought, she stalked straight into the living room as if he didn't exist.

He didn't have to, right? In her mind?

Thoughts of that one Christmas, three years ago, threatened to take over. The silly little tree they’d put up together. It hadn't even been pine but fashioned together out of old dry branches from the back yard, ones that had blown all over the place.

A tendril of sadness snaked through her.

Another flash from the past as she walked through a frigid zone in the living room. The way the furnace had died and there’d been no heat that night. How they'd generated their own heat...

“Can I help with something? Did you want to do something with this tree?" He looked at it, muttered. "If it can be called a tree." He swept his hand over it, top to bottom, let his fingers graze the tips of the sparse branches. “Nothing here, and on this side…” He busied himself, critiquing the tree as if he was some type of artist.

Her eyes skimmed over the room. Bare, mostly. Her backpack, over on the opposite wall. She'd dumped it there when she'd arrived. The patchy walls, the hint of mold. Icky dust bunnies, held together with things she didn’t want to think about.

Yet…

A spirit of defensiveness seized her, threatened to consume her whole.

This was her Christmas Eve here, damnit. He hadn't been invited.

Even though he'd figured largely in the first one, had dominated it, three years ago.

She moved to the other side of the tree, anything to get away from him.

Unfortunately, it wasn't hard to see him through it, sparse as the poor thing was, but it was amazing what one could edit in one's mind, if one wanted to.

And she wanted to.

She squatted, braced herself on the old wooden floor with one hand, and scuttled herself down. Her ass hit the floor. Cold, but she already knew that. She crossed her knees, placed her mitted hands on her thighs, and stared into the depths of the rickety tree.

And the room started to transform around her.

Fake evergreen garlands snaked along the floor. They'd put them all around the room edges on all four sides, so the fluffy green strings formed a backdrop for their MacGyvered tree. Their preparations were hurried, and as they were both new to this Christmas decorating gig, they didn't even know how they could attach them at the top of the walls, so this would do, they’d decided.

They'd draped them on the window sills at the front of the room as well. There was a gap between the two sills, and there, the garland dipped and hung in the nothingness.

"It'll be okay, it adds character. It's the unexpected, you know?" He'd said it to her, full of the joy of what they were doing.

And a little, as well, to show off to her. To show her that she'd chosen well.

Heck, she'd known she'd chosen well.

She'd hit the bloody jackpot. Her soldier.

And he'd flashed her that launch-a-thousand-supersonic-jets smile, sported that slap of hair over his forehead. Smiled at her.

And she'd laughed, smiled back, because her heart had been bursting. Full of the occasion, full of all the look-at-what-the-hell we're doing.

"Are you hungry?"

And he brought her back to the present moment with a snap.

He was pacing now, crossing from the wide archway dividing the living room they were in from the old-fashioned, smaller dining room in the back, his dirty salt-streaked boots thudding on the old hardwood, the odd squeak here and there. He squinted at the thermostat, gave it a twist.

If you wanted food, she answered him silently, all you have to do is go to the kitchen. Exit, stage right, you moron. It's right there. But of course, that's too much for you. Figure something out yourself.

He did look a bit lost. Her heart twinged a bit and surprised her, but she beat it back. Figures. The one tiny little part of her heart she hadn't deadened decided to get in on the game tonight.

No. She wasn't going there.

She narrowed her gaze.

And if she thought hard enough...

The lights on it had been crazy. Where three strands would have done, he'd brought twelve. "I pinched 'em from Granny, and from Ma," he'd confided in her. "Some from Sis."

"They're not missing them?" She'd asked incredulously.

"Well, what if they are?" He'd grabbed her by the middle, raised her off the ground and swung her an abrupt half-turn around the room, plunked her down. Gazed into her face, delighted, with the air of a conquering hero. "We needed 'em."

She'd stooped to the box he'd brought them in, run the strings of them through her fingers. "There are so freakin' many!"

"We don't settle, right?"

She'd laughed. "At least did you come up with a believable story why none of the women in your family have Christmas lights this year?"

"A canvasser came by trolling for donations of Christmas tree stuff for the needy. I was at each house and couldn't say no?" He'd batted his eyelashes at her.

“Shut up and get them strung." But she’d grinned, found it hard to stifle laughter at his jokes. She'd sat on the floor, too, just a foot over from where she sat now. Leaned back on her hands, skimmed her gaze appreciatively, lustily, over the figure he cut in his black jeans and ski jacket. "And then you can do the little show you promised me..."

"I'm really sorry I interrupted whatever you've got going tonight."

And the spell was broken. Again.

The stupid shit just had to open his mouth.

She got up slowly, stood for a moment. Then walked past him without a backward glance. Practically brushed him as she went by, felt his gaze on her. She went to the tiny window over the landing, on her tippy toes, peered out.

The wind was still gusting terribly, blowing snow down the deserted street, pale, whitish grey flecks against the darkness. A silent world out there. Overhead, greyish clouds snaked through the indigo sky. And most noticeably...she didn't see the curve of the fender.

Why on earth did he not leave?

"I don't hear the car out there anymore. Can you go now?”