Page 29 of Accidentally Under Your Tree

"You can tell me."

She breathed deeply and held it, as if she couldn't quite catch her breath. "I think I've wasted a lot of time wanting to be right. Notright, I guess. I wanted to not bewrong. I wanted it to be her fault that we weren't friends anymore. That we were barely tied together.

"She just wanted an apology. And I wouldn't do it. So, I…I was so self-righteous, and all she wanted was for me to say, sorry. I shut her out foryears. She tried, and I was such abitch—"

"Don't call yourself that," I interrupted. Rose had been wrong to let it go this long, but she wasn't an evil person. "What do you mean, 'she tried'?"

"She invited me to hangout. I'd tell her I was busy, whether I was or not. She can tell when I'm lying, just like I can tell when she is. Eventually, she stopped trying. I never even started."

Rose sniffled.

"You could still. If you wanted to," I suggested. Grief was thick in the room. It weighed down the atmosphere, pressing into my sternum. My heart ached for these two sisters experiencing so much loss when they were under the same roof.

"I do. I want to make it right. But I can see how much I have hurt her. How that pain carved her out. Years on years of this. I want to fix us, but I've done so much damage."

"Have you ever said sorry?"

"Too little too late, don't you think?"

"Maybe not."

She let out a watery laugh. "I talked so much shit. To anyone who would listen, I made it out like she was some codependent weirdo who was obsessed with me. Instead of a scared eighteen-year-old who hadn't realized that her twin sister was going to abandon her for a new life."

"That sucks."

"It does."

I didn't press her further. After a while, Rose's tightly controlled breathing turned to snoring.

Eventually, I fell asleep wondering if Lizzy was okay.

William

Seven nights before Christmas

"Do you think it's safe to use the elevator?" Lizzy asked with her arms crossed over her chest. She chewed on her lower lip with her eyebrows drawn together.

I wobbled my head from side to side. "There's a risk the power could go out, again. What floor are you on?"

"Seventh."

"I don't want to climb seven flights of stairs—"

"Me either."

"—but I'd do it with you." I gave her a little smirk. "You have to promise not to laugh at me when I'm breathing really heavy."

She did that adorable snort she'd done a couple of times. "I'd be too busy trying not to die. No, let's risk the elevator."

Her tentative little smile pulled at the dusty levers of my heart. Her kiss had been all warmth and quiet sighs. With every protective layer that thawed, I caught a glimpse of the passionate woman underneath.

It provokedeverythingin me. I wanted to pull her tight against my chest and be some place she felt safe. I wanted to search for all the ways to unravel her tightly wound persona. I wanted toknowher.

I wouldn't tell her any of that.

It was a lot—too much for just a few hours of conversation and a single kiss.

But secretly, I harbored an unhealthy amount of hope for what we could be.

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