If It Makes You Happy(121)

“I’m not telling you anything,” she snaps.

Tracy’s ears are bright crimson. “But you told her?”

For a moment, I’m confused. But then I follow her line of sight to Michelle, and heat from my chest rises up my throat to my cheeks.

Michelle is stunned to the spot, but hidden beside her is a very tight fist.

“Her name is Michelle,” Carol points out.

Tracy’s mouth gapes in a scoffing laugh. “I don’t care who she is.”

“Trace …” I warn.

This is escalating quicker than I’d like, and even Carol’s eyebrows get more furrowed by the second. Poor Brittany sits on the floor, confused, holding photos and smearing her fingerprints all over them.

“I should know what’s going on with my daughter before someone else does,” Tracy says.

“You’d know if you ever talked to me,” Emily spits back.

Tracy pinches her eyes shut, ignoring Emily to say, “I should at least know before that … that—”

I rise to my feet without thinking. My heart is pounding. My knuckles are white from clenched fists, painfully forcing my nails into my palms. My chest is on fire.

“I’d watch what words come out next, Trace. Before we all say something we regret. Something the girls shouldn’t hear.”

The room turns cold. Jimmy Boyd’s “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” slices through the living room. The fireplace lightly pops. Wrapping paper awkwardly crinkles as Carol sets down a present on the ground.

Tracy’s eyes blink up at me, her lips wide and parted. This fight feels too much like old times. Useless, instigated arguments. But that I can handle.

Words against Michelle?

Not in my house. Not anywhere.

Emily audibly swallows. “I’m going for a walk.”

Tracy’s head jerks to Emily. “In the snow? No, you aren’t.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Emily says with a sneer.

“I’m your mother.”

Emily blows out a breath. “Psht. Whatever,” she says as she strides past me.

I sigh. “Em, it’s cold.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s snowing.”

“I don’t care!” she repeats louder.

“Fine. I’m gonna have to follow you.”

“No!” Emily yells, walking quickly from the living room.

Stumbling to stand, Tracy also yells, “I’m coming too!”

“Fuck off, Mom!”

Tracy’s whole body jerks backward. She looks like she got slapped across the face, blinking over and over. Stunned to silence.

Damn it, Emily.

“I’ll be back,” I grumble, striding from the living room.

Emily slams the back door shut. The blinds crack against the glass. I rip it open again and step out into the cold after her.





CHAPTER 41





Michelle




I’m doomed to cursed holidays in Copper Run.

I sit on the couch, my feet curled up under my butt, with my fuzzy slippers on the carpet in front of me. Rocket is half curled in my lap after the loud noises. I look completely at home in a house that isn’t mine—with a family that belongs to the woman staring in my direction with her thin eyebrows perched high on her forehead.

“I should get going,” I say, unfurling my position and dusting my pajama pants off, as if specks of the awkward moment remain.

“Oh, Michelle—” Carol moans.

Brittany crawls, then stands, running to me and hugging my legs again.

“Don’t go,” she whines.

I pat her head and twirl my earring with my other hand, cutting my eyes to Tracy. She hasn’t stopped staring at me. I’m not the kind of woman to be intimidated, if that’s what she’s going for. But I understand when I’m unwanted.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? Merry Christmas,” I say with a wave to Carol.

Brittany buries her head in my thigh, and I stifle a laugh by chewing on my bottom lip.

“Promise you’ll be here tomorrow?” she whispers.

“Promise.”

“Okay.” Then, reluctantly, she pulls away.

I give her the best smile I can muster. Carol exhales in frustration, narrowing her eyes at Tracy. I throw Tracy a gentle wave, but she doesn’t return it.

Fair enough.

I walk down the hall and back to the kitchen with Rocket beside me, but harsh footsteps follow us the whole way.

“Michelle.” Tracy’s voice comes out like a demand.

I sigh through my irritation and squeak around on my heel. “Thank you for inviting me, Tracy.”

She shakes her head. “The girls wanted you here.” Her eyes roll to the side, catching on something in the corner. “Cliff did too.”

I open my mouth and close it but say nothing. I don’t know what I’d say anyway.

Tracy stalks over to the kitchen window, peering out to the road. Through the thick, falling snow, Cliff and Emily sit on the curb in their loose pajamas and no jackets.

Tracy’s shoulders pin back, and she tilts her chin higher, watching her daughter outside without her. She grips the edge of the wooden chair with white knuckles.