Page 48 of Heartstruck

Jared

Things with Alli are going good. Too good. Amazing.

We’ve been texting and calling. Those small, random things that leave me smiling without even realizing it.

Like the picture she sent me of her dog, Coco, tangled in Christmas lights.

Or the way she teased me about not knowing the difference between garland and tinsel.

Stupid stuff that somehow makes me feel… light.

But there’s a voice in the back of my head, the one I’ve been hearing for years, whispering that nothing good lasts long. The voice that made me hesitate to let anyone close, to let them see the mess that is my life.

I sink deeper into the couch, zoning out to some football highlights, staring at the glittering Christmas tree Serena insisted on setting up.

The house is empty since my parents took the twins to see Santa, and Serena went to Tyler’s house for Christmas Eve.

So, I’m alone with my thoughts, which isn’t usually a good thing.

I’m aimlessly scrolling through my phone when the doorbell rings.

I frown, pushing myself off the couch. When I open the door, it’s Alli in a heavy coat, scarf, and a small gift bag in her hand.

“Alli?” I ask, blinking, momentarily thrown off.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” Alli says, her smile bright, still slightly unsure. She steps into my space and pulls me into a hug—a little too quickly, a little too familiar. I stand still, not knowing whether I should pull away or lean in.

I take a half-step back, breaking the contact. “What are you doing here?”

“Dropping something off.” She shrugs, holding up the bag. “Thought you could use some holiday cheer.”

I lean against the doorframe as she walks past me into the living room. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she says, setting the gift bag on the coffee table. Her eyes sweep the room, fixated on the sparse decorations. “Cute tree,” she adds with a teasing smile.

“Thanks, I worked really hard on it.” I reply, smirking.

She lets out a constrained laugh as she unwinds her scarf and drapes it over the back of a chair. “With a little help from Serena, huh?”

“She’s got an eye for details.”

Her gaze softens just a touch when our eyes meet again. “She asked me to check in with you,” she admits, a hint of shyness in her voice.

I raise an eyebrow. “She did?”

“Yeah,” she says with a crooked grin. “I know you’re not big on the whole family holiday thing, but… I thought I’d swing by and keep you company.”

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did. No need for explanations.” She smiles reassuringly.

There’s a beat of silence as I digest her words. Her presence here feels like a strange comfort, filling a space I didn’t realize was so empty.

“Guess I should thank you for saving me from my tragic lack of holiday spirit,” I say, half-joking.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, dropping onto the couch and kicking her boots off. Her legs fold beneath her as she sinks back, settling in. “Aren’t you gonna open your present?”

I glance at the gift bag and pull it closer. “What is it? A self-help book for surviving Christmas?”

“Close,” she teases. “Open it and you’ll see.”

I open the bag, finding a pair of cozy-looking socks with little footballs on them. Below the socks, a small card reads: For the wide receiver who’s always running.

I hold them up, fighting a grin. “Football socks? How festive.”

“And practical.”

“They’re perfect. Thank you.”

She laughs, and I can’t help but laugh too. It just happens—hers is the kind of laugh you’d recognize in a packed room, even ten years from now.

“They’ll keep your feet warm when you’re dodging your fan club.”

“Gonna be honest”—I raise my arms in surrender—“they might just come in handy this winter. You really put some thought into this, didn’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” she says, her smile warming the room in a way the socks never could. “You look like you could use some fun socks to brighten your days.”

I look her in the eyes, and I can feel my face turning cherry red. “Thanks.”

She smiles and reaches to squeeze my leg, then glances around the room.

“So, Serena wasn’t kidding when she said you were all alone at home.”

“Dad and Lina took the twins downtown to see Santa,” I explain, leaning back against the couch, letting out a slow breath. It’s not the conversation that’s making me nervous. It’s just how damn easy it feels to be here with Alli.

Her eyebrows lift in mocking disbelief. “You didn’t want to go?”

“Eh, not really my thing. No offense to Santa, but… not my idea of fun.”

Alli tilts her head, like she’s trying to understand me better. “Let me guess. Too many screaming kids? Or is sitting on Santa’s lap just a no-go for you?”

I let out a quiet chuckle and rub the back of my neck, trying to play it off. “Neither. Holiday stuff’s just not really my thing. Kinda hard to fake the whole ‘everything’s great’ vibe when it’s not, you know?”

The silence hangs heavy between us. It’s not awkward, but… it’s genuine. And then the words spill out of me before I even mean for them to.

“My mom reached out again last week.”

Alli’s brow furrows. “Oh…?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah. They let her out on some rehab program since she’s doing better. She’s got her own place now. A job. And she still wants to meet up.” I run a hand over my face. “Maybe grab coffee… talk things through.”

“Do you believe her?” Alli asks, her voice gentle but direct. She’s not pitying me, just trying to understand.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I admit, leaning forward and putting my head in my hands. “Every time she says she’s better, I give her another chance. And then she ghosts me again. Or worse, shows up and breaks all her promises.”

Alli clicks her tongue, then looks me in the eye. “Do you want it to be different this time?”

“I don’t know,” I answer, the honesty feeling like it’s ripping something open inside me. “I want to believe she’s changed. But… I’m scared. Scared of letting her back in, only to be let down again. And I’m scared of shutting her out and never knowing if she could have actually changed.”

Alli nods slowly. “You’re allowed to want the best. You’re also allowed to try without putting yourself in harm’s way.” She reaches her hand forward, rubbing it over my chest, and something in me starts to settle, her words a lifeline when I didn’t even realize I was drowning.

I glance over at her, meeting her eyes with a quiet thankfulness.

“I guess I’m scared of both. But you’re right. Whatever happens, I don’t have to do it alone. Not anymore.”

She gives me a knowing smile. “Nope. You don’t.” Then, she picks up the socks from where they landed on the couch and rolls her eyes. “Though these things might just be the most uncomfortable socks in the history of fashion. I’m starting to regret getting them.”

“Hey,” I protest with a grin. “They’re fine. Perfect for… awkward family holiday traditions.”

She lets out a low laugh. Then, after a moment, a crack in her usual playful barrier shows. “Holiday breaks with family are always complicated. You don’t know half of it.”

“Aunt problems, huh?”

Her eyes flash, but she stifles a sigh. “Yeah, Evelyn’s mom has… extra opinions this year.” She shifts uncomfortably. “Judgmental, overbearing stuff. Just a lot to deal with.”

“That sucks,” I murmur, strained.

Alli curls her fingers into the couch cushions, a frustrated edge creeping into her voice. “It’s… not even about her advice. It’s just the way she keeps pushing and questioning everything. It wears you down.”

I sigh, debating whether to ask what I want to know. Apparently, she’s become a mind-reader, since she asks, “What?”

“It’s just… Doesn’t your mom ever say anything?”

Her head shakes. “She tries, but then she gets a lecture from her sister. She doesn’t like to get involved when Tía Mary goes on one of her tangents.” She exhales in frustration. “She thinks I should just hold my head up high and brush it off, like her opinion shouldn’t even matter to me.”

“Setting boundaries sounds easy until it isn’t, huh?”

She flashes me a half-smile, but there’s a glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes. “Yeah. It’s a hell of a lot harder than anyone makes it sound.”

“You’re allowed to stand up for yourself. Doesn’t matter if she’s family,” I say, my tone firm but gentle.

Alli laughs again, though it’s tight. “And if she doesn’t get the message?”

“Then you make it clear, however you need to. You don’t have to put up with anyone tearing you down.”

She glances at me, and this time, the tightness on her jaw and forehead loosens. “It’s just… hard. But you’re right, I’ll try.”

“You’ve got this,” I say, my gaze lingering on her fleetingly longer, knowing exactly what it means. Then I smile. “And if I can survive a judgmental family, you can survive one aunt.”

She snorts in amusement. “Guess we’ll both be tested.”

“I’ll be here for it, Alli.”

“I know you will.” She reassures me, but not herself. She gifts me an almost secretive smile, and it tells me everything I need to know.