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“There’s no way you still believe in Santa, right?”
She laughed. “Of course I don’t. But sometimes I like to believe in the magic.”
“The Summers always have a magical Christmas, Santa or not. It’s far better than what mine were at home.”
“You never even wanted to be home back then.”
“Why be home when I have you guys? My dad didn’t even let me believe in Santa.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Why?”
“He thought it was all a ploy to get us to buy more for the holiday.”
“To be fair, it is. But it’s still magical sometimes to remember when things were easier.”
“I’m glad you have those memories.”
“I mean, you have them too. In a different way. You were welcome every year. I like to think we also tried to make your Christmases special.”
And they were. Every single one of them. This family had saved me, and I would never be able to pay them back for that.
And it all started when I was assigned to sit next to the happy-go-lucky popular boy in my grade.
“Every day I’m glad I met Nick,” I said softly.
The reminder of Nick hit me hard. I needed to remember what I owed him—what he’d asked me to do. The dull ache I was used to when around the Summers, and especially when near Stella, was a sharp pain now. I’d spent too much time with her.
But I needed to get over it. This was how friendship went. Sometimes it hurt, but I got to keep my connection to the Summers family.
“Alden?” she asked. “Are you okay? You got lost in thought.”
I looked over at her. Her hair fell over her shoulders in waves and the open door of the fire made her face glow. God, she’d only gotten more beautiful over the years, and I knew she would continue to.
One day, she would find the perfect man. One that wasn’t her brother’s best friend.
Yet now, after spending all of this time with her, the thought filled me with a miserable feeling that added to the sharp pain in my chest. I didn’t want her with anyone else. I wanted her withme.
Even if I didn’t deserve it. Even if I would blow up my life to do it.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Sometimes you look at me and go quiet.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Does it have to do with what happened seven years ago?”
I looked up at her, eyes wide. “We don’t need to talk about it.”
“Friends talk about their problems.”
“I . . .still.”
Her lips pursed and she stoked the fire again. “Do you want an apology?”
I looked at her, incredulous. “Forwhat?”
“Me coming on to you.”