Page 72 of He Sees You When You’re Sleeping

“Sounds perfect,” I reply, my voice a little too enthusiastic. I’m trying so hard to act normal, to push down the anxiety bubbling in my chest.

We settle on the couch with our plates piled high with food. Chloe starts the movie, and for a while, I lose myself in the familiar story. Jimmy Stewart’s earnest face fills the screen, his character’s struggles echoing my own inner turmoil.

As George Bailey contemplates ending his life, I feel a lump form in my throat. How many times have I stood on the edge, metaphorically speaking, wondering if my actions were justified? If the path I’ve chosen was the right one?

Chloe must sense my discomfort because she reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You okay? You seem a little... off tonight.”

I swallow hard, knowing this is my chance. The moment I’ve been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. “I’m fine. Just... missing my mom, I guess.”

Fucking coward. Tell her!

“I know. I miss my parents too.” She mutes the TV, turning to face me fully. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Working,” I half lie, half tell the truth. I am working Christmas Day and night, so that’s not completely a lie. “I try to work one of the firefighters’ shift who has kids so they can be home for at least some of the holiday. Even though I’m technically off as Christmas doesn’t fall on my shift, I feel it’s only right.”

Chloe’s eyes soften with sympathy. “That’s really sweet of you.”

I shrug. “I hope to be paid back someday when I have my own young kids.”

We turn our attention back to the movie, but I can barely focus on the screen.

“This is nice,” she says. “I can’t believe the Scrooge in me is admitting this fact. But I’m actually enjoying this.”

I nod, trying to smile, but my chest feels tight. The weight of my secrets is crushing me, making it hard to breathe. I can’t keep this up any longer. I have to tell her.

“Thank you,” she adds. “My holidays have been pretty shitty for a while, and well... this year feels different. I’m determined to not have another bad one. So thanks for helping me with that.”

Guilt floods in. She has no idea how much I’ve been involved in her life, how I’ve watched over her through those “shitty” holidays. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to say.

But she just got done telling me she wants a good holiday and is on the path of having one. I don’t want to be the reason of fucking that up for her. Not when she actually is smiling and seeming genuinely happy for once. I decide to hold off on my confession, at least for tonight. Maybe it will be my New Years resolution to tell her.

Plus, I don’t want to ruin tomorrow night. Our Christmas Eve.

Or is that my dick speaking, and he’s much louder than my mind?

“I’m glad I could help,” I say, forcing a smile. “Everyone deserves a good holiday.”

We finish the movie in comfortable silence, but my mind is still racing. As the credits roll, Chloe stretches and yawns.

“That was nice,” she says, smiling at me. “Thanks for suggesting this.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Chloe tilts her head, studying me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem distracted.”

I force a laugh, but it comes out hollow. “Just tired, I guess. Long shift yesterday.”

She nods, but I can see the concern in her eyes. “Well, don’t let me keep you if you need to get some rest. I appreciate you coming over, even if you’re exhausted.”

Her kindness only makes me feel worse. I stand up abruptly, nearly knocking over my empty plate. “I should probably head out. Early shift tomorrow.”

Chloe looks surprised by my sudden departure but doesn’t argue. She walks me to the door, and I can feel her eyes on me as I fumble with my jacket.

“Thanks again for tonight,” she says softly. “It really meant a lot to me.”

I turn to face her, my hand on the doorknob. Her eyes are warm, trusting. I open my mouth, ready to spill everything, but the words catch in my throat.

“Anytime,” I manage to say. “Goodnight, Chloe.”

I step out into the chilly night air, my breath visible in small puffs. As I walk to my truck, I hear the soft click of Chloe’s door closing behind me. The sound feels final, like a missed opportunity.

The drive home is a blur. My mind keeps replaying the evening, analyzing every moment, every word left unsaid. I grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white.

At least I get to see her tomorrow night.

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