Page 30 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)

Chapter Fourteen

Olivia

“ L uke, are you okay?”

I’m out of breath. Cardio is the bane of my existence, but it became necessary when I caught sight of Davis and Luke’s grandmother standing in the living room, both appearing upset, and I knew something had happened.

Now I wonder if I read the situation wrong, because as Luke turns toward me, his eyes brighten, and his mouth quirks up in a grin.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No need to punish yourself with running this morning.”

I chuckle, and the heaviness in my chest eases. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I just needed some fresh air and to put a little distance between me and him. Raine called and calmed me down a bit.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets, his lips turning into a downward slope, and a crease forms deep between his eyebrows, creating a valley that shows that his stress and worry is still there. He’s trying to hide it, but I can always read him like a book—most of the time, anyway.

“Oh, okay,” I say, nodding my head.

We start walking toward the house in silence.

I take this moment to study the neighborhood.

Every single house is decked out from top to bottom with Christmas decorations.

I’ve never seen such a bright and colorful neighborhood, besides in a holiday Hallmark movie.

It looks like we walked onto one of those film sets or are intruding on a photoshoot for a magazine.

I marvel loudly, trying my best to lighten the mood and cheer him up, as I point at each house, finding something that I love about them.

It’s peaceful here. Cozy, even. A few people are walking their dogs and riding their bikes up and down the street.

There are folks chatting with neighbors, giving us a wave as we pass by.

Luke is quiet. Seconds tick by without a response from him. A car door slams. Neighbors are mingling and chatting. A train horn blares faintly in the distance. The wind blows hard against us. A bird sings from a branch nearby. Still, he says nothing.

We stop in front of his grandmother’s house, on the sidewalk that leads to the front door. I look up, taking in the tall house before us, admiring the lights and wreaths. If it snows while we’re here, the magic of this place will intensify.

“If I wasn’t in the Christmas spirit before, I sure am now.” It comes out breathier than I intended, a puff of words and syllables crashing into each other.

Luke looks down at me, and his expression softens. His eyes lighten, a grin causing the dimple to pop in his left cheek. He exhales, his shoulders falling away from his ears, and it warms me from the inside, like the first sip of hot cider, knowing that I was able to take some of his stress away.

“This place always feels like we’ve walked inside of a Christmas card.”

“Or are we really inside one of those Christmas villages?” My smile brightens at the thought. “Okay, now I really want to live in a Christmas village one day.”

Luke laughs and holds out his hand, waiting for mine. I hesitate, only for a moment, before I slip my hand into his. His hand is much larger than mine, and I welcome the warmth.

I’m paying close attention to how his fingers link through mine, giving them a slight squeeze, his thumb rubbing a few circles over the back of my hand.

It feels like the way he would hold the hand of a woman he’s seeing.

And in a way, he kind of is. As we reach the front door, he pulls me closer to him.

I don’t resist this time, because we have a show to put on.

“Come on, Buddy, ” he says, using the nickname I’ve earned every holiday season.

“Right behind you, Grinch .”

“Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” by *NSYNC is playing over the speakers, per Jerrica’s request. We’re both singing, bumping our hips together, as we help clean up the dining room after breakfast. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Beckett family, it’s that they know how to eat.

“How’s Luke doing?” Jerrica whispers in my ear before she bends down to grab another plate.

“He seems like he’s fine,” I say honestly, weaving around the table and making my way into the kitchen.

She follows close behind me and adds, “I heard his run-in with my uncle didn’t go as smoothly as everyone had hoped.”

I chew the inside of my lip, unsure of what to say because I also missed the encounter.

Luke seemed okay during our walk this morning—quiet, but still like himself.

I open my mouth to say something, but the song “All I Want for Christmas is You” starts playing over the speakers, and it’s as if Jerrica and I can’t help ourselves but to sing and dance along to the song.

Near the end of the song, I catch sight of Luke, much like I had this morning, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He’s wearing a long-sleeve cream-colored shirt that makes his skin look a shade darker.

I rush over to him and take his hands into mine, encouraging him to jump up and down with me or to sing the lyrics, but all he does is shake his head.

Luke’s Uncle Leo walks into the kitchen, catches sight of Jerrica and me, and immediately walks away. This gets a laugh out of Luke, a sound I feel in every place we’re touching—his hand in mine, his other hand on my hip, how his shoulder bumps into mine as he moves closer to me.

“All I want for Christmas is you!” I sing loudly, pointing to his chest and smiling brightly at him.

The heated look he gives me makes the hairs on the back of my neck stick up, a shiver runs down my spine, and warmth gathers low in my belly. This look feels unfamiliar, and yet I find myself enjoying it way more than I should.

“You look beautiful like this,” he adds softly, his voice a bit strained, and I wonder if it has ever been like that before, in the past, and I just never noticed.

It’s as if fake dating each other has allowed me to peek through a window where I can see this new version of him, and I’m not sure how I missed it for so long.

“Like what?” I ask, searching the room to see if Jerrica is nearby, but she’s digging into one of those popcorn tins that has different flavors inside.

“Being yourself.”

My mouth falls open. Not at his words but more at the flirty tone behind them. Luke has never talked to me like this, and I’m realizing I’ve been missing out. There’s something about his voice. It’s almost intoxicating, like the first bite of a steaming-warm brownie.

The feeling I was enjoying a second ago vanishes and is replaced with awareness.

We’re crossing the friendship line. My brain understands that the flirting is all for show, but my heart is starting to enjoy this too much.

This is a treacherous game we’re playing, and my nervous system is kicking in.

Suddenly, it’s scalding hot in this kitchen.

I let go of his hand and reach up to pull my hair up off my neck.

My skin is stretched too tight, and the soft sound of Christmas music and quiet murmurings of Luke’s family in the next room becomes too loud, which is new to me because I love a constant stream of noise.

It normally comforts me, but right now everything is too much.

Luke senses the shift in my mood and releases the hold he has on my hip. He gives me an apologetic smile and takes a step back. I’m thankful for the space, and I put more between us as I make my way into the living room. Jerrica and Luke follow close behind me.

“Okay. Now that all of you are here, let's talk about the festivities we’ll be doing this weekend,” Nonni announces, and I turn to look at Luke, a brow rising in question because he never told me the details of ‘the festivities.’ He shrugs his shoulders, a playful grin tugging on his lips.

“We do the same thing each year,” Luke’s cousin Rebecca hollers as she bounces her one-year-old son in her lap.

A few family members agree with her, but Nonni waves everyone off. “Oh hush, these traditions are important. Now listen up.”

This completely changes my mood, and I find myself feeling giddy, clapping my hands together, smiling so wide my face hurts. I love traditions, and the fact that Christmas came early this year has me all warm and fuzzy inside, which I appreciate since I was in dismay only seconds ago.

“Today we decorate the tree together, and then afterward, we will put on our ugly Christmas sweaters for the family portrait. If you didn’t bring a sweater, that’s okay. I have some extras. ”

Luke groans, which makes me laugh. “Your grandmother keeps back-up ugly Christmas sweaters?”

“She takes Christmas traditions very seriously,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

“I saw that eye roll, Luke,” his grandmother snaps, earning another laugh from me.

“She wasn’t even looking at you. How’d she know?”

Luke leans in closer to me and whispers, “Nonni sees everything.”

Luke’s grandmother continues, “After dinner we’ll bake some Christmas cookies for everyone to decorate, and we’ll enjoy them while we watch a movie together. Tomorrow we will have our gingerbread house competition?—”

An excited squeal escapes me, and everyone in the room twists their heads my way, some smiling and others squinting judgingly at me.

I whisper, “Sorry,” and sink beside Luke, who wraps his arm around my shoulder.

I force myself to relax under his touch, even though all I can focus on is his body pressed against me and how I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am.

“I like your excitement, Olivia. Once the sun sets, we’ll enjoy the neighborhood Christmas festival.”

“But that’s usually only during the week of Christmas.” Jerrica’s brows furrow together in confusion.

“Yes, but everyone was able to make an exception this year and are happy to put on the festival for this weekend and next.”