“No, only my bimbos would want to do that,” he quipped. “But you might have fun if you relax a little.”
She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “If you were facing the Christmas I’m facing, you wouldn’t be relaxed either.” She paused and looked down. “。 . . and I’m sorry about the bimbos thing. That was rude.”
“An actual apology? I’m shocked by this turn of events.” He pulled out onto the road, then looked over at her and smiled.
He didn’t know Lauren. Not really. And yet, because of her brother, there would always be a part of him that felt responsible for her. She was important to Spencer, so that automatically made her important to him. And he quietly hated that she was dreading the holidays.
Holidays in his house were what he missed the most when he was away. He tried to get home every year, though this was the first time he’d driven. There was something about the way his family’s house smelled, pine trees and cinnamon, baking and blankets and fireplaces. The whole space was lit with those twinkling white lights his mom loved （“The colored ones are gaudy! White lights are elegant!”） and filled with the sound of family, of children, of Christmas carols. . . of home.
His family was also loud and nosy, fiercely close, and crazy competitive when it came to board games. He loved every single second of it.
And Christmas morning, he, his parents, his grandpa, his two sisters and their husbands would sit around the table in pajamas before opening presents, drinking coffee and eating the big, home-cooked breakfast his mother insisted on making.
Everyone should have that kind of Christmas.
Unfortunately, he knew he was the exception, not the rule. For Spencer and Lauren, the greatest gift on Christmas morning was parental silence. Too often, they were used as leverage in their parents’ never-ending argument. He knew they were overlooked, an afterthought, or worse yet, bargaining chips. . . and he hated that for both of them.
He’d really taken it all for granted when he was younger, and after his little wake-up call, he vowed to never ignore that blessing again.
“What was your last Christmas like?” Maybe things had improved since she’d moved away.
She stilled. “I don’t really celebrate Christmas.”
“At all?”
She shrugged. “I don’t like holidays. Especially Christmas. And I really hate my birthday.”
“Why?” He dared a quick glance at her, but she was focused on the passing desert landscape out the window.
“Can we talk about something else?” she asked, suddenly cold. “Or nothing? We could talk about nothing.”
He silently acquiesced. Her walls were rebuilt.
Will flipped through radio stations until he found one playing Christmas music. As fate would have it, it was “All I Want for Christmas is You,” and Will started singing full voice. He glanced at Lauren, singing and shrugging his shoulders and indicating to the radio as if to ask, ‘How’m I doin?’
She pulled out her Air Pods and made a point of sticking them in her ears one at a time, then feigning serenity, slowly sinking back into her seat.
And that’s how the entire day went.
They stopped twice for food—and Lauren spent both meals on her phone. They stopped at a general store, a vintage gas station, a church built in the 1600’s, and drove through a petrified forest. Lauren slept, played solitaire, listened to music, doodled in her sketchbook, answered texts, and made a point of avoiding talking to Will.
And he made a point to pretend it didn’t bother him.
He wanted her to like him. He knew this was something he needed to work on, his need for approval, but this was different. This wasn’t about winning her over for the sake of his own ego—it was about winning her over because he really liked her.
I really like her. Like, genuinely.
Was it wrong that he wanted to be her friend?
Was it also wrong that he knew he was kidding himself thinking that’s all this was?
Late afternoon, as he filled up the gas tank at a classic station, Will snapped a selfie just as a text from Jackson’s mom came in.
Hey Coach, sorry to disturb you on your Christmas break.
I saw you and Jackson have been texting, and I wanted to let you know he was in an accident last night.
Nothing too serious, but we’re hoping it was the wake-up call he needed to make some better choices.
Just thought you should know.
Will had met Jackson’s family when he was a senior in high school and visiting Pacific University—they were good people, a lot like his own family. Even though Jackson’s mom hadn’t asked in her text, even though there was probably nothing he could do, Will looked up the name of Jackson’s hometown to see how far out of the way it was.