Page 45 of The Christmas You Crash

With George Bailey’s breakdown providing background noise, my mind wanders. This week has been nothing like I expected. It hasn’t been quiet or peaceful or alone. It’s been one adjustment after another. At first, I assumed it would mean my week was ruined. That all the things I’d told myself I was looking forward to would go up in smoke.

But maybe, just like good ole George, I was so focused on what I thought I wanted that I missed what I trulyneeded.

I thought I wanted a week alone. No family. No fuss or obligations. I thought Ineededthat, actually. Because I’m mad at my mom for challenging the status quo. We’ve always been together for Christmas. And so often, it was just the two of us. Dad spent so many Christmases on the road or coaching home games or dealing with some other stupid, made-up obligation to avoid spending the day facing the fact that he didn’t know his wife or daughter anymore. We were supposed to spend Christmas the same way we always have. Together. Just the two of us.

Not with Jeff. Not with some rando she’s sleeping with calling mekiddo,like I’m not a grown-ass adult. Not watching her make googly eyes at another guy who isn’t good enough for her.

And my dad? Well, I thought I needed him to maintain the status quo too. And that’s not giving a shit. I was okay with spending Christmas apart. I didn’t even want him to ask to see me. Had no idea what to say when he did. Not that he tried very hard to get me to agree or seemed all that disappointed when I didn’t. And that was fine. That was what I wanted because Idon’t want to want him anymore. Not his time or attention or love.

But then he called Ryder, and I realized that wasn’t actually what I wanted or needed, either. I want to be loved. What little girl—or girl at heart—doesn’t want her dad to love her? The thing is, we all learn to protect ourselves as we’re wounded along the way. And not wanting to be close with my dad is how I protect myself.

So, I went into this week wanting—needing—to be alone. But the universe had other plans. And as Ryder’s massive body warms my lap and my fingers brush through his hair, I can almost admit that the universe knew better this time. I’d be depressed if he wasn’t here. And really, really lonely. And, quite possibly, frozen to death.

But, unlike George Bailey, there’s no happily ever after in my future. There’s no moment of epiphany when I realize I already have everything I need. This is real life, not the movies. And in real life, you’re way more likely to be murdered than saved by some well-intentioned stranger.

Bells ringing and angels getting their wings? You’ve garrote to be kidding me.

Doesn’t mean I don’t cry when the Baileys are all hugging and saved andhappy. I do have a heart, after all. ThisisChristmas. We’re practically programmed to turn into sappy puddles of mush this time of year. I’m no different.

And that’s why Ryder wakes up to a tear splashing onto his forehead.

twenty-two

RYDER

Is therea leak in the roof?

It takes a moment to remember where I am as water drops onto my face and draws me out of sleep.

I fell asleep on Lexi’s lap.Her fingers still slip through my hair as the end ofIt’s a Wonderful Lifeplays on the screen. It feels so good that I don’t want to sit up and figure out where the water is coming from. I don’t want to break whatever spell this is. I haven’t felt this relaxed or content since my mom would run her fingers through my hair as I rested my head on her lap.

But then a sniffle breaks through my reminiscing, followed by a slight shuddering of Lexi’s body, and the bubble I’m in pops. I sit up slowly, all my attention on the beautiful, teary-eyed woman beside me.

Shit. Why is she crying?

“Lexi? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Wiping another tear away with the side of my finger, I wrap her in my arms and drag her onto my lap.

“N-nothing’s wrong,” she says through soft sobs.

I can’t help it. I chuckle. This woman.

“It looks like something’s wrong,” I say, trying to keep my humor at bay. “Talk to me.”

She sniffles again, then tries to dab discreetly at her face and nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Seriously, I’m fine. It’s this damned m-movie.” Her breath hitches again before her face crumples and she sobs for real. Is she really this sad because of the movie? I mean, sure, it’s moving, and the end is definitely on the emotional side, but she’ssobbing.Even if it is just because of the film, I hate seeing her cry. It grates against the inside of my ribs and makes my stomach bottom out.

So, I do what I can and hold her tighter. I press slow kisses to her temple and rub circles on her skin with my thumbs.

“God, this movie is so sad. Seriously. Why does it have to be so sad?”

We’ve reached the end, where George Bailey and his family are surrounded by friends and family who’ve come together to save him from ruin. It’s not a sad part. It’s happy.

“They all love each other so much.” She hiccups, another tear streaking down her cheek.

Ah.I get it now.

“And that’s sad?”

Her slim fingers splay across my bare chest. “Obviously.”

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