Page 95 of Puck Love

Isnuggleinto the hugebody that’s currently serving as my pillow, and pull the blanket closer to my neck. We never did make it upstairs to my bedroom, but instead fell asleep on the couch after several long hours of rediscovery. Van groans and wraps his arms tighter around me. “What time isit?”

“I’m not sure. I’m guessing it’s Christmas Eve,though.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs. “I think Christmas came early lastnight.”

I chuckle and burrow into his chest. “Several times. Happy Christmas Eve,Van.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.” He sighs contentedly. “Naw, shit. I didn’t get you apresent.”

“Yes, you did.” I kiss his chest. “It showed up on my doorstep around nine p.m. lastnight.”

For a minute we’re quiet, as he strokes my back with gentle fingertips. Van turns his head and stares at the twinkle lights on my Christmas tree. “Oh baby, that’s a sadtree.”

“My tree is notsad.”

He laughs, and it resonates all around his chest. “Look at it—it’s miserable. It’s white, for god’ssake.”

“What’s wrong with a white tree? It should remind you ofhome.”

“Okay, for a start, no self-respecting Canadian would have this tree in theirhouse.”

God, I love how he says that word.House. Gah! It’s like an ovary explosion. I swear I could hear him talk all night. I could just lie here and listen to his beautiful Canadianweirdness.

“Okay, come on. Getup.”

“What?” No. No, no, no. I don’t wanna get up. I want to stay right here forever. “Why?”

“Because we’re getting you a damntree.”

“I have a tree,” I say, and pull the blankets up again, snuggling farther into hiswarmth.

“You have a sparkly bit of plastic. That is not atree.”

“And where exactly do you think you’re going to get a tree on ChristmasEve?”

“Oh, I’ll find a damn tree, even if I have to chop it downmyself.”

I lift my head and smile wistfully at him. “I’ve never had a realtree.”

“What?”

“We never had the money for one, not until I signed a record deal, and even then, we lived in hotels and on tour buses and there just wasn’t room for a tree. After my momma died it’s only ever been Lana and I onChristmas.”

“You don’t have any otherrelatives?”

“Oh sure, I have four half-brothers and sisters from a deadbeat dad whom I’ve never met, but no, I’m it.” It’s not like this is something new for me, but tears spring up in my eyes, and I blink rapidly and rest my head on his chest so he won’t see. This time of year has always been difficult for me. I love the music, the lights, giving presents, and seeing all of Nashville lit up with Christmas cheer, but I still never can shake theloneliness.

Van’s fingers stop moving against my back and he whispers, “Country?”

I don’t want to answer because he’ll know that I’m crying. And it’s ridiculous, really. This is the first year I’m not alone. I should be cartwheeling around the room rightnow.

“Baby, look atme.”

“I don’t want to.” My voice is a choked, terrible thing, and I’m two seconds away from losing it. He tucks his finger beneath my chin and gently tilts my head up to look athim.

“You got me now. And Emmett, and my crazy mother. I know you’re used to being alone, but you don’t have to be anymore.” He smiles and brushes the tears from my cheeks. “Now come on. We don’t have to get rid of your sad little tree, but we’re buying another to keep itcompany.”

Four hours later I’m admiringmy new tree, alongside my “sad little one” while Van pops some corn on my stove. He had to have the biggest one on the lot, and he haggled the man down only to tip him two hundred dollars anyway. He then drove us to Walmart where he proceeded to just throw everything that was left in the decoration aisles in the buggy. It took us an hour to decorate the damn thing, and it wasn’t even covered halfway. He lifted me up to place the star on the top, and didn’t bother setting me down on my feet, but pushed me up against the wall, tore off my clothes, and buried himself insideme.