Page 20 of The Christmas You Crash

“Did you learn how to cook from your mom?” I ask.

Lexi chews on her bottom lip and shrugs. “Sort of. My mom’s an okay cook, but she’s never enjoyed the act of it. I think it got old, making all these elaborate meals, only to have my dad waltz in hours la—” She stops herself too late. As those green eyes of hers lift to meet mine, I can tell she didn’t mean to reveal something so personal. But she’s still raw after the phone call with Coach.

I never should have put the damned thing on speaker.

“Anyway”—she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, which only draws attention to the flush of pink overtaking her cheeks—“when I went away to school in Chicago, I hated the cafeteriafood. It wasawful. So, when my best friend and I got an apartment together my junior year, I made it my mission to learn how to cook whatever we wanted. I watched a lot of YouTube tutorials and botched my share of recipes before I felt like I knew what I was doing.”

“I can cook the basics.” My mom died before she could teach me much, and my dad…well, taking care of a household and a kid who spends most days at hockey practice meant there were a finite number of available hours in a day, and some things had to fall by the wayside. Cooking was one of them. We ate a lot of takeout and frozen food. Not that I’m complaining. My dad was there for me when it would have been completely understandable for him to shut down. So what if we ate pizza at least once a week? Like Lexi, everything I’ve learned was through tutorials or trial and error. There are a handful of things I feel confident making. Breakfast, for instance, is pretty easy.

Lexi opens her mouth to say something, then apparently thinks better of it. Her lips purse as she studies me. She’s probably remembering the way I shut down last night when she asked about my family.

“My mom died when I was young,” I reveal. I just put her in a position where she was forced to air some of her family’s dirty laundry in front of me, so it’s only fair I reciprocate. Besides, as much as my mom’s death still stings, she’s been gone a long time. That wound isn’t nearly as fresh as my dad’s death. It’s easier to talk about her in the past tense.

Lexi’s face softens, but to my relief, I don’t see the syrupy look of sympathy I loathe whenever I tell someone new about my parents. “How old were you?”

“Seven. She had cancer. We knew it was coming.”

She frowns as she nods. “Sure, but that doesn’t make it any less painful.”

“True. It doesn’t.” I suck in a deep breath. “She was a great cook. I wish I could have learned more from her. When I started college, the only thing I was proficient at making was Easy Mac.”

For the first time since her father called, Lexi laughs. Some of the tension in my chest eases with it. “That’s sad, Ryder. Easy Mac? Really?”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. That stuff is addicting.”

She giggles. The sound reminds me of summer nights, and I’m becoming addicted. “Oh, I have. Rachel and I had a huge stash of it in our dorm room freshman and sophomore year. Pretty sure it’s a trigger for me.”

God, she’s adorable.

“Well, I can cook more than that now, but I lived off it for a while.”

We laugh and chat through the rest of the meal. Lexi is mostly back to her normal self, but there’s still a wall between us that wasn’t there this morning. Though I hate it, I can’t say I blame her. I’ll just have to earn her trust so she can let the walls fall.

I clean up and do the dishes, since Lexi did ninety percent of the cooking, even though she tries to fight me on it. But once she realizes that trapping me in the kitchen gives her the freedom to pick what to watch tonight, she lets me have at it.

“Do you want some tea?” I ask as Lexi flips through different streaming apps. I’m not sure what she’s looking for, but her nose crinkles in concentration.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Mint, please.” She doesn’t even look at me, too absorbed in her search.

Grinning, I fill the kettle and put it on the stove before preparing two mugs and choosing spiced orange tea for myself. My phone buzzes in my pocket. After the call from Coach, I learned my lesson and switched it to vibrate. A text from myteammate and our team captain, Maddox, flashes across the screen.

Maddox

Hey, rookie. I know you’re spending some time at Coach’s cabin, but I wanted to extend the offer to come to New Year’s Eve dinner at my place. Isla’s bummed you declined our offer for Christmas. She’s going all out for our first New Year’s as a couple.

Me

Thanks, man. I really appreciate that. Think I may be snowed in, still. But if I’m not, I’ll let you know.

I glance at Lexi again. Does she really want to spend Christmas alone here, or does she just not have anywhere else to go? I haven’t seen her on her phone. Does she even have friends in town? I know she went to college out of state. Maybe I could at least convince her to spend New Year’s Eve with the guys? I’ll have to swear them to secrecy, so no one tells Coach, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

Me

If the roads clear, would it be cool if I bring a guest?

Maddox

A guest? You got a girl, rookie?

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