Page 19 of Santa's Mistletoe Playbook

Again, he didn’t know how to answer. Forgiveness was a complex thing, full of trapdoors.

“All right, then.” She lifted her chin. “I can’t share your bed tonight. Or any other night.” Tears pooled in her eyes.

Bryson avoided looking at her. “In that case, I’ll sleep in the other spare bedroom.” He glanced at a wall clock. “It’s half past midnight. Merry Christmas.”

“Nothing merry about it, in my opinion.” Danica rose and went upstairs to bed.

Bryson followed her, but before leaving their bedroom, he bent to kiss her, but she ducked away.

“Good night.” Her words dripped with icicles.

Bryson’s chest tightened, knotting his insides. What did he expect?

“Good night.”

Silence echoed back as he plodded down the hall to the other spare bedroom. He tossed and turned before drifting off to sleep.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DANICA

Christmas Day

Danica stared at the ceiling, listening to Bryson’s truck back out of the garage and motor down the road. He must have to work on Christmas, if that was where he was heading. She grabbed her phone and bought airfare back to Phoenix. She booked the next flight out of Anchorage.

She showered and dried her hair, then dressed in warm clothes. She gathered her belongings from the bathroom and dumped them into her bag.

Dragging her bags down the stairs, she remembered to reserve an Uber and hoped she wouldn’t get the same driver from a week ago. Danica left a handwritten note, saying she needed time to think and had gone home.

They’d each said hurtful things. The heaviest thing that weighed on her: did she love Bryson enough to join AA when deep down she was certain she wasn’t an alcoholic? Bryson viewed her intolerance as a medical problem and insisted she needed help. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess, and she needed solitary time to untangle them.

When the Uber showed up and she and her bags were loaded, she checked her phone. Bryson hadn’t called or texted to wish her a Merry Christmas. Her face crumpled.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” asked the driver, talking into the rearview mirror.

“Yes. Just sad to be leaving,” she lied. By sheer force of will, she pushed back her tears.

The car pulled up to the departure curb, and the driver unloaded her bags.

“Thank you.” She tipped him, then briskly rolled them inside the automatic double doors.

Once she’d checked in and gone through security, Danica found an isolated seat and took out her phone. Still no word from Bryson. This must mean we’re over. Danica fought back more tears.

“Excuse me, but are you flying to Phoenix, by chance?” an older woman’s voice inquired from two seats away.

Danica glanced at the silver-haired, handsome woman. “Yes, I am.”

“I heard there’s bad weather in Seattle, so I hope we can make our connection. I must get down to see my husband. He’s had a heart attack.”

Danica’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry. Where is he?”

“They placed him at a hospice in Phoenix. I’m worried I won’t get there in time if we encounter delays.” She dabbed a tissue at her eyes.

“I’ll check the status of our flights.” Danica tapped her phone, then pointed. “It says our flight to Seattle is on time, and so is the flight from Seattle to Phoenix. You’ll get there,” she assured her.

The woman nodded. “Do you live here in Alaska?”

“I live in Scottsdale. I came up here with my boyfriend because he’s filling in for another doctor at Mercy Hospital in Anchorage.” She failed at trying to sound upbeat.

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