Page 8

* * *
When everyone has goneto bed, or passed out, Callie and I stay up drinking in the family room with the lights of the tree illuminating our surroundings. I sit next to her and bump my knee to hers. “How much you wanna a bet Remy would fuck Catelyn if he thought he could get away with it?”
Callie snorts. “Oh, you know he would. Stupid fuck probably already tried.”
“She’s like, sixteen. Do you think she would?”
“I don’t know. I mean, maybe? I would have at sixteen.”
I don’t like the way she says that. As if she’s implying she’s easy, and I know this is a fear of hers. I bump my knee to hers again. “I got something for you.”
Her eyes drift to mine, her face lit up by the tree. “Why?”
“Because.” I shrug.
“What is it?”
“Guess.” My smile ignites hers as she watches my face.
Wide brown eyes scan mine. “Just show me.”
Sighing, I reach over to my jacket and pull out the small box. When I resettle, I place it between her legs.
She gasps when she opens the black box to find a necklace, her hand over her mouth. “Leo….”
When Callie was a little girl, she had this necklace with a sparrow on it that she loved. I guess it was the only thing she had of her mother’s. Anyway, she lost it years back and always said eventually she was going to get a new one. So I got her one. For Christmas. I’ve never bought a girl a present until now. I wonder if she knows that, but I don’t say anything because I’m not looking for praise here. I want her to see that she means more to me than sex.
Our eyes connect, hers rimmed with tears, mine glossy and bloodshot from the alcohol. I’m drunk. I know that, but there’s more to this look she’s giving me. I’ll admit, there’s been a sense of longing building up in my chest now. A yearning to spend time with this girl who owns my heart, and savor her presence.
“Can we go outside?” she asks, wiping away tears.
Instead of saying anything, I stand and reach for her hand, leading her outside. It’s fucking freezing out here. A steady snowfall creates the ultimate Christmas image.
The snow crunches beneath our feet as we walk the empty and quiet street and make a circle around the block in the bitter cold, while my ears burn in the subzero temperature. We don’t say anything because, frankly, I’m so fucking cold I don’t think my lips will move. “This neighborhood is a hell of a lot better than the one I grew up in,” I note, trying to make conversation.
Callie nods but doesn’t say anything as she raises her scarf up over her mouth.
Every house we pass has Christmas lights on. Some families are still awake, others already asleep. It makes me wonder how my mom is doing and if she’s happy tonight.
And then I think about Callie and how our situation is completely opposite. She has a dad. I don’t. I have a mother. She doesn’t.
In more ways than we know, we’re alike.
“You okay?” I finally ask when we’re approaching the house again, praying to God she wants to go back inside. I’m pretty sure hypothermia is beginning to take over my nether regions, as well as a little bit of frost bite to make this night even more memorable.
Callie nods and lifts her eyes to mine, huddling into her jacket. “Sure.”
I know something’s bothering her when that fake smile she’s had all night slips. I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Come on, what’s up? You didn’t drag me out here for a walk, did you?”
“It’s pretty out here.”
“Yeah, sure it is, but something tells me you weren’t looking at Christmas lights. Did I piss you off by buying that necklace?”
“No, I loved it.”
“Then what’s up? You still mad about the beer I spilled on you?”
“Yes.” Her eyes tighten. She’s being sarcastic. Kind of. “It’s just that… I’ve been thinking a lot about shit, and it’s not easy.”