Page 21 of Texting My Secret Santa

“Let me try.”

I find Asher pacing in front of the car, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Are you ready to go?” he snaps.

“Asher, just take a moment. Take a breath.”

He keeps pacing. I’m forced to touch him again to make him stop, but in reality, am I?Forced?I squeeze onto his arm, feeling his firm body through his sleeve.

“I know this is difficult, but you agreed to do this for a reason,” I say softly.

“You’re right, but if just looking at abushcan make me feel like a kid again …”

“I don’t get it.”

“When I was a kid, she dug up a bush from a neighbor’s yard and used dental floss to tie on a gas station ornament. It brought back a bunch of memories.”

“I’m sorry, Asher. I’m not saying you have to do this or need to be here, but I think youwantto be here. I think if you leave now, you’ll regret this. Your mom is trying as hard as she can. It’s not my place to tell you to forgive her, but I think you want to try.”

“What makes you say that?”

I gasp when his hands slid around my waist. He pulls me in close, staring into my eyes. I’m surprised the light dappling of snow around us doesn’t instantly melt with how hot I feel.

“Can you read my mind now, Snowflake?” He seems to realize what he’s done because he quickly steps back and lets me go. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” I whisper, his warm touch lingering.

His brief touch was the most tempting thing that’s ever happened to me.

“If I’m wrong, we can leave, but I don’t think I am.”

He rubs his hands up and down his face, full of wild energy. “No, you’re right. We’ll go back inside. Just take the lead, okay?”

“I will. I’m proud of you.”

CHAPTER 8

ASHER

Iput a few ornaments on the tree, but mostly, I watch Mom and Snowflake work. Outside, when I almost left, something feral came over me. I grabbed her hips and pulled her to me. I wasthis closeto kissing her. She was being so supportive, so affectionate. I know I would’ve claimed her lips if it wasn’t for the specter of her brother watching, judging.

“We need somebody tall to put the star on the tree,” Mom says, the cautious hope in her voice breaking my heart.

Fake it until you make it. I smile, taking the star from her and putting it on top.

“A little to the left,” Mom says, laughing.

“No, to the right …” Holly laughs.

I put the star on, then turn to them. “Happy, ladies?”

“Yes,” Mom says firmly, squeezing my hand briefly before letting go. “Very happy, Asher. Thank you for this. It means a lot.”

“Okay, Mom. I need to head out, but I’ll see you soon.”

I take a breath, remembering what Holly said outside. She said she was proud of me. The old Asher, the one on Mom’s kitchen wall sitting on his muscle car like he was better than everybody, might’ve mocked that. I can’t. It means too much.

“I love you, Mom.”

She gasps and throws herself at me for a hug. “I love you too.”

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