Page 34 of Holiday Hostilities

This makes Aaron howl with laughter. “See, Liv? I told you it was a fact.”

“Shut it, or I’ll name a cockroach after you, too,” I clap back, but Aaron’s laughter is infectious, and I find I’m mostly kidding around, my insult delivered with lukewarm heat, at best.

So I’m surprised when Aaron’s green eyes flicker and his strong jaw tightens.

It only lasts a fleeting second, but my stomach pinches with regret. I’m about to apologize for going too far, but suddenly, all traces of that pained expression are gone. Replaced by his usual sunny smile and twinkling eyes. Almost as if I imagined it.

“How original,” he says, using the same tone I used when I said the words earlier. “Look at you, Lil Griz, jumping on the cockroach bandwagon.”

Before I can respond, he fully turns away from me to address the crowd of people gathered in his yard. “All right, team. It’s time to eat!”

13

AARON

I shove a forkful of mashed potatoes—made by Triple J—into my mouth and chew. Chew some more. Try not to gag.

Ugh. I hate mashed potatoes in the first place. And these particular mashed potatoes taste worse than usual.

Almost…oily.

But Jimmy—who is currently dressed in an orange and red knit monstrosity with a roasted turkey on the front along with the words “Let’s Get Basted!”—is looking at me expectantly, so I smile and give him a thumbs-up as I hurriedly reach for my water glass. Down a huge gulp.

“Do you like them, Cap?” he chirps happily. “I added a secret ingredient.”

I cough, gasping around the uniquely terrible taste of oily potatoes. “And what would that be?”

Across the table from me, Liv covers her mouth. I assume to hide a smile. Or spit her own potatoes into a napkin.

For a few minutes back there, I forgot about everything and everyone except Olivia. From the moment she arrived at the front door, looking cute as all hell in a short, dark gray t-shirtdress, her hair loose and wavy around her shoulders, she was all I saw.

As I led her inside, my entire focus was on her, barbed banter and sparks flying as we verbally sparred back and forth.

Kind of like old times, but with today’s version of Olivia in front of me. She was always gorgeous, tall and leggy and striking with her bright hair and glinting eyes. But she’s somehow even more attractive to me now than her teenage self was to me back then.

I love how self-assured she is. How she carries herself with her head high and her lips slightly parted like she has a witty comeback poised on the tip of her tongue at all times.

And then, she had to go and mention the effing cockroach.

I’m used to her trying to insult me—as I mentioned, I kind of live for it—but it was very effective in bursting my flirty-flirt bubble and swiftly reminding me of everything that’s going on right now. Despite my problem-solving skate earlier today, the whole situation is still weighing on me.

On instinct, my fingers toy with the bracelet on my left wrist, smoothing the leather down against my skin.

“Horseradish!” Jimmy announces proudly, yanking me out of my thoughts. “Plus some honey. Oh, and a good splash of canola oil.”

I do everything in my power not to wince.

“What a creative ingredient list to add to mashed potatoes,” I manage to choke out.

Triple J is a great hockey player, and a stand-up guy who’d do anything for the people in his life, but I swear his brain is wired differently. Like he’s tuned into some extra-terrestrial frequency that we mere mortals can’t pick up.

“J, that is absolutely disgusting.” Dallas voices what everyone else is thinking. “Why didn’t you just use milk and butter like a normal person?”

Triple J glares at him indignantly. “I wanted to spice things up, add a little je-ne-sais-quoi, you know?”

“I donotknow.” Dallas’s face is incredulous. “Haven’t you heard of bacon? Sour cream? Grated cheese?”

“And where’s the originality in that, Cooper?” Triple J demands. “Who wants to eat boring old potatoes that follow a boring old recipe?”

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