Page 23 of This December

I peeked through my fingers in time to see Cole grin down at my mom.

“And I’ll take you up on that lager. It’s damn good beer.”

“Coming right up!” Mom tossed Cole a grin and all but bounced down the hall to the kitchen.

“Hey! What about me?” I shouted after her.

“Only people with manners get waited on,” Mom hollered back. “You can get your own drink!”

“Unbelievable.” I mock scowled at Cole. “You’ve been here all of a minute, and you’re already the favorite.”

“I know.” Cole grinned. “Isn’t it awesome?”

“Oh, it’s something all right,” I muttered to myself as I toed off my boots and followed Cole down the hall to the kitchen.

“Cole!” Olly shouted from his barstool next to the counter that was covered in cookies, frosting, and so many decoration options. Bright blue frosting was smeared across his lips and part of his cheek. “Wanna decorate a cookie with us?”

“Absolutely.” Cole crossed the kitchen to stand next to Olly’s barstool. He shoved his hands in his back pocket as he surveyed the options. “What do we have? Oh, a Santa. I wanna do the Santa.”

I stood there open-mouthed as Cole forgot all about me and was absorbed into my family like he’d always been a member.

LikeIwas the outsider.

Then I watched my mom hand him a beer, pat his back, and start decorating a cookie next to them without saying another word to me.

Iwasthe outsider.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I walked over to the fridge, pulled out one of Cole’s special beers—right in front, no digging required—and looked around for the bottle opener.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Chrissy muttered as she sidled up to me. “Mom about took my head off when I tried to drink one a few minutes ago.”

I grabbed the bottle opener next to the fridge, popped the top, and took a long pull of Cole’s favorite drink. Apparently. I’d never seen him drink one in the time we’d been together.

“It’s your funeral,” Chrissy murmured as Mom sent me a death glare from the kitchen island.

I lifted my beer in a silent toast of thanks. But Mom just shook her head and bent down to hear whatever Hayden was trying to tell her. “How’s Matt handling losing his favorite son position?”

Chrissy snorted a laugh before a coughing fit almost took her to her knees.

I giggled. It was well established that Aspyn’s husband, Matt, was the favorite in our family. First married, first grandchild, easy going—he was awesome.

But not as awesome as Cole Jackson, apparently.

“You okay, honey?” Chrissy’s husband, Myles, shouted from across the room.

“I’m good,” she wheezed, waving a hand in front of her teary eyes.

But Myles still watched her. Only once she appeared to be breathing normally did he turn back to the game on the tv.

That whole interaction hit me viscerally. I’d never had that. None of the guys I’d dated would probably even blink at me if their favorite team was playing, and I was choking. Hell, one time I had a panic attack at the top of Coit Tower, and my boyfriend at the time didn’t even notice. He was too busy taking pictures and talking to some tourist from Brazil. In his defense, she was beautiful.

“So what’s the deal?” Chrissy asked with raised eyebrows now that she was breathing normally. “I’ve been dying to ask how the two of you met.”

I hitched a shoulder. “He might’ve found me doing snow angels in his driveway one afternoon.”

“December! Seriously? How?Why?”

I laughed. “I was delivering groceries, and the bag ripped, and then I slipped on some oat milk if memory serves. I was already on my back in a bunch of new powder so I figured why not?”

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