Page 15 of Holiday Flame

“Here.” I reach into the cup holder and her a travel mug.

She takes a sip and sighs in delight. “Hot chocolate. I love hot chocolate.”

“There are extra marshmallows in the glove compartment if you want.”

“Oh my God, I love you!”

My heart hitches at her words. I know she’s just saying it because of the marshmallows. But damn. It’s still good to hear.

Traffic is heavy along the path to view all of the best Christmas lights in our town. That’s not surprising, considering it’s Christmas Eve and the weather is pleasant.

Jade seems pleased by each of the displays. She gasps and clasps her hands together, her eyes sparkling as they reflect the lights and her excitement.

And, because she’s enjoying the lights, I am too. Even if I barely look at them, because I’m so captivated by her.

We’re about halfway through the tour I’ve planned out for us when Jade turns toward me. “This is so much fun. I’ve never done anything like this.”

“You’ve never looked at Christmas lights?”

“Well, of course I’ve looked at Christmas lights. Just not like this.”

“My mom and I did this every Christmas growing up.” My jaw clenches. “Mom always made us hot cocoa and we’d bundle up and get in the car.”

I don’t mention that the cocoa was always from a packet and made with water instead of milk. Or that we layered up so we wouldn’t have to run the heat and waste gas.

“My father wasn’t really in the picture most of my life.” I give a short, humorless laugh. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

I can probably count on my hands the number of times my dad called to check in on me. I’d need fewer fingers to track the times he actually showed up.

“He didn’t even follow-through with child support.” I shake my head. “He’d hop from odd job to odd job. Mostly taking money under the table so he could skip out.”

Jade’s jaw falls open, and I see it. The look of sympathy I used to get all the time from my friends’ parents and other grown-ups. It’s a look I’ve tried to avoid.

It’s why I don’t usually talk about my childhood. More like why I never talk about it. Especially with women. But it’s different with Jade. Maybe it’s because she’s Mav’s sister, and he’s one of the few people who knows everything. Maybe it’s because she’s good at listening.

Maybe it’s because I want to build something with her. I can’t have any secrets from her.

So, instead of going my usual route and making a joke or changing the subject, I keep talking. Honestly. Brutally. Brutally honest.

“He owed my mom tens of thousands of dollars—maybe even more—by the time I turned eighteen.” I sigh. “Needless to say, money was tight. I knew from an early age how hard my mom worked to keep a roof over our heads. I knew how much she sacrificed to keep food on our table.”

A lump lodges in my throat. I pause to clear it and take a deep breath.

“So Mom didn’t have a lot of free time. But she used every damn minute of it to be there for me. She never missed a school event. She showed up to every baseball game I played from Little League through high school.”

“She was there for you in all the ways that counted,” Jade says softly, placing her hand in mine.

I nod, warmth clenching my chest. She gets it. Of course, she does.

“She was. There weren’t any PlayStations or Nintendos under the tree. I knew better than to ask for that year’s hottest toy. But she found plenty of ways to make the holidays special all the same.”

“I love that.” Jade turns her hand over in mine. “Your mom sounds like a great lady.”

“She’s the best.” I stare down at our hands and carefully link my fingers with hers. “That’s why, as soon as I put aside enough money, I helped her open a little storefront in Anchorage. It’s a little boutique where she can display and sell some of the jewelry and prints she used to make just for fun.”

“I’d love to go see it someday.”

“We should.” I give her hand a squeeze. I still can’t get over that Jade is here with me. Holding my hand. Listening to me pouring my guts out. “Maybe we can make a trip down to see her in the new year.”

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