Page 10 of The Holiday Exchange

Nerves attack my gut, making it twist and turn. This is what a family is supposed to be, and I suddenly feel like an interloper.

“You okay?” Briar asks.

“Yeah, I…” But before I can say anything—not that I’d know how to answer anyway—his mom reaches us, and the passenger door is pulled open, his mom bouncing with joy.

“Oh, Briar! It’s so good to see you.”

He shoots me a concerned glance before his mom is pulling him out of the car and into her arms. I clear my throat, try and stuff down my worries and enjoy this moment for what it is. Yes, I’m here on false pretenses, but it’s for a good cause, and that’s what I try to focus on.

I climb out of the car, making my way around to their side, just as his father reaches me. “You must be Dawson,” he says, and I’m thankful Briar shared some real details about me after we decided on this holiday-exchange idea.

“Yes, sir. Jeffrey, right?” I’d made sure to memorize as much of the info about his family and hometown as I could. A good boyfriend should know these things.

I hold out my hand, but he gives me that wide smile that would remind me of Santa Claus if his beard was white instead of brown. “We’re huggers around here. Is that okay with you?”

“Um…yes, sir,” I stumble over my words.

I love my family. I wish we were closer, but I do love them. This is throwing me for a loop, though, because they’re nothing like this.

Jeffrey pulls me into a tight embrace before I hear, “That’s enough. My turn, Jeffrey. Let me get a look at him.” He pulls away, and then Briar’s mom is there, giving me a hug. “You were right, Briar. He’s so handsome!”

I can’t stop smiling. “Thanks, ma’am,” I reply, and notice Briar’s cheeks are slightly pink.

“You don’t have to worry about that sir or ma’am stuff around here. I’m Donna.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, honey. We were so happy when Briar asked if he could bring you home. Came as a bit of a surprise since he didn’t even tell me he was dating anyone!” She looks at her son with a raised brow.

“I know. Sorry. I just…” He lets his words hang in the air, as if unsure what to say.

“We were taking things slow,” I fill in.

“Were?” Donna asks, meaning behind that one word that I hadn’t meant to insinuate. Oops. I’m supposed to be his boyfriend, who came home with him to meet his family. I shouldn’t make it sound like we’re not committed.

“Come on. Let’s get your things and go in before everyone freezes half to death. Gotta have you healthy to help at the farm!” Jeffrey beams, making it clear how excited he is to have his son in town and working with him. “So glad I caught you on my break!”

“Dad, we just got here. We don’t want to put our guest to work. I want to show him around town and some of the property.” He looks at me and pumps his brows. “We have snowmobiles.”

My pulse jumps, an eagerness I haven’t felt in a long time making my skin feel buzzy. “Really? That sounds fun. But I’m good with helping at the farm too. I want to do everything while I’m here.” Do I sound too excited? Too eager? Too…anything?

When I look up, all three are watching me with similar grins, and just like that, my worries start to dissipate.

5

BRIAR

Guilt crowdsmy stomach as my parents lead us inside. Excitement too because it’s cool hanging with Dawson even if this wasn’t at all how I envisioned this holiday. He’s so kind, easy-going, and accommodating in a way that few of my boyfriends ever were.

Dawson is wide-eyed, taking it all in, like the large fireplace in the living room. The ground floor is open plan now. It didn’t use to look like this when I was a kid, but my parents have renovated in the last ten years, and I’ll admit it’s modern while still being cozy.

“How about we set our bags in my room and then I’ll show you around?”

“Sounds good.” He follows me upstairs and down the hallway.

“My parents’ room is downstairs,” I tell him, trying to distract myself from my nerves before opening the door and letting him see my childhood room. Though it’s been upgraded to more of a guest space, my parents kept my trophies and books and other childhood favorites that now seem a bit juvenile.

“This is great,” Dawson says as he takes in the space, and it helps me relax.

“What—the small bed or the plastic ice-fishing trophy?” I tease.

“Oooh, ice-fishing?”