Page 119 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

I pull out the chair and realize my legs won’t fit well under the table, so I spread them wide as I scoot closer and set my bag on the floor. “I thought we could play some games today while we get to know each other.”

His gaze lifts to my mouth. “Can we play Minecraft?”

“Not today,” I say. “We’ll have to ask your mom about that. I don’t want to break any of her rules.” I know some parents don’t want their kids to play video games, and the last thing I want to do is alienate his mother.

“But we’re at school,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’re supposed to followschoolrules.”

“Thatistrue,” I say. “But I didn’t bring Minecraft. I brought some other games. We’ll see about next time.”

He doesn’t respond.

I pull out a box from my bag and set it on the table. “This is a matching game. Can you help me get it out and set it up?”

He nods, but he’s still messing with his zipper, not that I’m surprised. I’m a pretty big guy—a stranger at that—and he’s pretty small. I consider the fact that he’s still sitting here a win.

We take the cards out of the box, and he helps me turn them over, using one hand. I start to explain the rules to him, but he says, “I know how to play this game.”

“Then how about you tell me the rules?” I suggest.

He looks at me in surprise. “But you’re a grown up. You’re supposed to know the rules.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“You turn the cards over and match them,” he says.

“What happens if you get a match?” I ask.

“Then you get another turn. And if you don’t, it’s my turn.”

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s play. You go first.”

He turns over two cards—a little girl with braids and an old woman with salt-and-pepper hair—then turns them back over. “Your turn.”

“Thank you,” I say, then turn over two cards. A man with a bald head and glasses and a little boy with freckles. “Do you remember my name?” I ask as I turn them back over.

He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “You’re Mr. Jace. Ms. Liu told me five times that you were coming today.”

“And you’re Aidan,” I say as he takes his turn. “Ms. Duckworth told methree timesI was coming to see you.” I motion toward the older woman, but Aidan doesn’t turn to look.

“Is she your teacher?” he asks as he flips his unmatched cards back over.

“No,” I say. I almost tell him she’s my boss, but I worry about how his brain will interpret that. The last thing I want him to think is that he’s my job. “She’s my friend. She thought you and I would make good friends.”

“Why?”

Shit. That question could be a minefield. “Because I need a friend, and she thought maybe you did too.”

He studies the game, saying idly, “I don’t have any friends. I just moved here, and Mom says it takes time to make new friends.” He looks up at me. “Do you know how long it takes?”

I’ve known this kid for about five minutes, and he’s already melting my heart.

“Are we friends yet?” I ask.

“You brought me a game to play.”

“And I brought another one we can try after this one. So, are we friends?”

He scrutinizes me, or rather the shoulder of my shirt, for a long moment. “Friends play together.”

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