Page 30 of Christmas With the Convict

“I gotta warn you.” He sets me on the ground and takes my hand. “If the food is anything like the coffee, it’ll be shit. But, a diner half a mile from the penitentiary is the last place your dad would look for us.”

“We’ll make the best of it,” I say. “My treat.”

“Actually, I got this one.” Chase flashes a wad of cash. “Uncle Rick didn’t let me leave empty-handed.”

I guess my mother wasn’t the only one feeling guilty…

We take a seat in the empty diner, give our orders to the grumpy waitress working Christmas morning, and laugh over how awful the coffee is. Still, we leave her a nice tip.

Back in the car, out on the open road, we leave the prison, Aspen, and everything else behind us. We’re heading to my apartment in Denver to grab a few things. After that, it’s a blank page.

It’s Christmas break, and we’ve got nowhere to be but in each other’s arms.

Epilogue

CHASE

One Year Later…

It’s ten days till Christmas, but I’ve got an early present I’m afraid to open. Well, it could be a present or another kick in the gut. The envelope practically burns in my hand as I head up the stairs to our apartment.

I remember that day when we drove to Denver to get things from her old place. Her building had an elevator. She had a huge place with big windows and fancy appliances. Calling our first place together a downgrade would be a massive understatement.

Parking is a pain. The stairs are slick with water that drips off our neighbors’ boots. Our living room is about as big as my old prison cell.

It’s the coziest, safest place I’ve ever laid my head.

As soon as I walk through the front door, I feel at home among the books, countless candles, and Wendy’s smiling face. She’s sitting across the couch, glasses on and face buried in her laptop.

When Richard Bettencourt threatened to cut Wendy off if she didn’t abandon me and come home, when he tried to hold her graduate school tuition around her neck like a leash, Wendy laughed, told him that she’d never take another cent of his money, and hung up the phone. She applied for student loans the next day.

That was the last time they spoke.

Wendy makes some money as a teacher’s assistant and does tutoring. I, against all odds, did not get a job fixing motorcycles or trucks. I got a job at a bookstore.

It surprised the hell out of me when they immediately offered me the position during my interview, but Wendy explained the phenomenon well.You are a big, hot, soft-spoken man. Bookshops are filled with dreamy-eyed girls, like myself, who would love to steal glances at a big, hot, soft-spoken man while they read their fantasy and sip coffee.

I suppose it helped that she knows the owner. The pay isn’t great, but we do get discounts on books. I’ve got my own little shelf now, filled with my own favorites. Things that inspire me, that change the way I write…

It pains me that I can’t help her pay for school, that we barely have enough money to live, but it’s just a flicker of hurt. It doesn’t sear. It doesn’t burn. It’s there beneath layers of love, warm and unburdening.

And maybe, just maybe, the envelope in my hand can change all that.

“Hey, baby.” Wendy stretches out on the couch and closes her laptop. “Finally, an excuse to stop studying.”

Behind her, snow drifts past the window.

It’s picture perfect, our little cozy living room, our tiny Christmas tree overloaded with lights, Wendy on the couch in just a hoodie and thick socks. I could stand here and stay in this moment forever.

“Hold on, is that another one?”

Wendy jumps up and tries to snatch the letter out of my hand.

“It’s fromPenguin,” she shrieks and jumps up and down. “Open it!”

“Can’t we just leave it for now? I’m not sure I can take another rejection…”

“This is how it goes.” She throws her arms around me and pecks my lips. “A hundred rejections to find the one winner.”

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