Page 31 of The Christmas You Crash

“So are you.”

“Think the power will come on soon? I’m starting to worry.” And I am. We’re going through wood fast. We can cut more, ofcourse, but it’s all the other things. I need a hot shower, and we’re running through batteries for the two lanterns I found far too quickly in this cold. I haven’t been able to find more.

Ryder’s thumb rubs a lazy, comforting circle against my hip. “Yeah, Lex. I’m sure it’ll come back on soon. They’ve gotta have people working on it now that the snow has stopped.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’re right.” With a sigh, I burrow into Ryder more, desperate to soak up his heat. It doesn’t escape me that I’ve only known this man for a few days. Normally, I’m not so open and forward with people. It takes a while for me to be comfortable with someone new, especially a guy. I have no problem admiring someone who’s physically attractive, but to feel truly comfortable and develop an attraction that’s more than skin deep takes longer for me.

I feel like I’ve always known Ryder. I feel safe with him. And with every passing moment, my attraction to him grows.

Which is really inconvenient, since I can’t develop feelings for him.

“We’ll be okay, Lex. I’ll keep you safe and warm.” He says it so softly, so genuinely, that my heart squeezes. There’s no posturing or macho male B.S. behind the words. Just a quiet promise. “You’re not alone.”

It’s not the first time he’s said those words, but they still strike me right in the chest. Because I have felt alone this year. More alone than ever. During college, I had Rachel and our other best friend, Adam. I had classes and activities and a dorm full of noisy students nearby. But since moving home and working on my master’s degree, I haven’t had any of that. Rachel and Adam are still in Chicago. They have an apartment together and see each other daily, while I only see them when we FaceTime. I’m not living in a dorm this year—and thank god for that—but the small apartment I share with another student is too quiet.

I suppose I could reach out to some of my high school friends, but we’ve all moved on to these new phases in our lives, and I’m not sure we had much in common in the first place. I’ve made a few acquaintances in my master’s classes, but that’s as far as it’s gone. My roommate and I cohabitate easily, though we never hang out. We have nothing in common. A couple of guys have asked me out, but the dates never go anywhere. And I’m too busy to get on any apps and really give dating a shot.

As a strong, independent woman, I’ve been fine with all of it. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. Do I wish my best friends were close by? Yes. Do I wish I had at least a few good friends here so that we could sit together at coffee shops or browse bookstores together? Absolutely. Hell, do I wish my parents weren’t such colossal, selfish messes, so I could spend time with them without being subjected to awkward boyfriends or obvious disregard? Also, yes. But I’ve been telling myself that all of this is simply temporary. This is just a side quest.

Still, I have been alone. I have been lonely.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper.

Ryder’s thumb stills on my hip for a moment before resuming its lazy rhythm. “Yeah, Lex. Me too.”

We slip back into silence as Keanu kills another bad guy. The battery on his laptop is almost at the end of its life. The fire could use another log or two. But I don’t want to move. There’s a fragile beauty to this moment that almost has me holding my breath.

The unfortunate truth is that Ryder Hanson is a genuinely good man. And the more time I spend with him, the easier the walls I’ve erected around my heart seem to crumble. Plus, he’s stupidly hot. Leaning into him the way I am now, it’s taking all of my willpower not to slip my fingers beneath his hoodie and press my hand to his chest again.

“What would you be doing today if this was a normal Christmas Eve?” he asks me softly.

“Like, when I was a kid?” I ask. “Before my parents split?” Because the last time I had a relatively normal Christmas was probably my senior year of high school. Back then, my parents were still trying to convince me—and themselves—that their marriage was in a good place. It all fell apart once I left for college.

“If that’s the last time you felt like you had a normal Christmas Eve, sure.”

Humming, I think back to all the things that made the holiday feel special when I was younger. All those magical things that lost their luster as I got older and saw how dysfunctional my family was. For all her faults, my mom has always done an amazing job of making Christmas—and every other holiday, really—full of magic and wonder.

“Well…” I blow out a breath, shifting my body to lean against Ryder’s chest. I still need his warmth, but I can’t look him in the eye if we’re going to talk about stuff like this. “We made cookies every year. Those sugar cookies with the royal icing, so you can create all sorts of designs and patterns. No matter how terrible they looked, my mom would gush over them and tell me they were incredible. She’d also give me some money and take me to the mall, so I could pick out gifts for her and my dad. We’d make a day of it and get lunch at the food court, some hot chocolate from a coffee shop, that kind of thing.”

Ryder’s fingers drop to my leg, where he traces a line back and forth from my thigh to my hip. “That sounds fun.”

“It was. That wasn’t what we did on Christmas Eve, necessarily, but the whole month leading up to Christmas was fun. We’d decorate the house and go all out. I think there are even some bins full of decorations in the garage. We spent a few Christmases here when I was a kid, and my mom wouldmake my dad hang these garlands and lights everywhere.” I grin, remembering. “She’d hang mistletoe all over the cabin so he’d have to stop and kiss her.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Yeah. And the Christmases we spent here, we’d go to this cute little tree lot in town and pick out the perfect one and put it up in front of the windows there.” I point to the two large windows that overlook the front yard and the driveway. “It was this whole thing. I had to find the perfect tree. It couldn’t be too skinny, couldn’t be too short, and of course, it couldn’t have any weird bare spots.” I chuckle. “My dad would get so annoyed with me. It would take an hour just to pick out the tree.”

“I’m sure he was having just as much fun as you were,” Ryder says. His voice is soft and full of warmth. “I bet you were cute, marching around the tree lot like a tiny blonde dictator.”

It’s impossible not to laugh. “Not sure my dad ever thought that. Whenever we were together, I mostly felt like he couldn’t wait to get back to his team and the ice.”

“Lexi,” Ryder starts.

I cut him off. “But it was so fun. They have this hot chocolate stand, and we’d get one after Dad loaded the tree onto the car. Then we’d go home, get it up, and decorate it. My mom gave me a new ornament every year on Christmas Eve. It was the one gift I was allowed to open before Christmas morning. She always picked something cute that had to do with what I liked or did that year.”

“My mom did that too,” he tells me. So softly. Like he hasn’t spoken about the things his mom did for him for Christmas in a long time. “When she died, my dad picked up the tradition, but it just wasn’t the same without her. I don’t know. That probably sounds silly.”

“Not at all,” I say, sitting up so I can look at him. Old pain is etched into the lines that appear along his brow. “I get it. It’slike, as soon as something puts that first chip in the facade of Christmas magic, everything loses some of its shine.”

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