Page 16 of Love Letters to Christmas

“It?” I whisper.

“Abuse.”

My throat closes. “They…weren’t… They didn’t…”

“They were, and they did. You apologize for nothing every day, multiple times a day, several times in the same breath. You keep busy, constantly, as though you’re afraid I’ll be upsetif you don’t make yourself useful. You flinch when Ruby gets too aggressive with Will, which is often. Loud noises make you jump.”

“Isn’t…that normal?”

“No.” He drops his napkin beside his leftover meat and shakes his head. “Not like this, Amelia. Not like this.”

“I’m…”Sorry.

“It’s nothingyouneed to apologize for.”

I haveneverseen Brian so serious before in my life. There’s always, always been this air of wonder and childlike joy around him. He has never been upset about anything to a degree that it’s felt quite like…this.

Taking in air, he settles, rustling his hair in the rainbow rays. “All this is to say, you aren’t an imposition, Amelia. You’re not. I don’t think you know how to be. I…would love it if you learned.” He finds me and smiles; it is starkly beautiful. “I would love it if you imposed on me. Everyone deserves to feel safe enough to be taken care of.”

Hair prickles along my arms as a shudder works through me.

“And another thing,” he says, lifting the letter from the holster pocket strapped to his thigh. Tapping it to my head, he tilts his chin down and meets my eyes. “You are welcome to stay with me for as long as you want. Even forever if it suits you.”

“Forever?” I whisper as my shaking fingers reach for my letter.

“Sure.” He lets go once I grasp the spotted paper. “I like having you around. And notjustbecause you spoil me something nonsense.” He returns his gaze to the pink and orange sky. “It’s just…you know. Because you’re you. I like you.”

Heart beating in my throat, I watch him until my trembling fingers have lowered my letter to my lap. It takes all my strength to drag my gaze down to the envelope, the seal.

There…against ripples of my manilla and leather skirt…restsblue.

Chapter Seven

Not nothing, but certainly not something either.

Amelia

It means nothing.Nothing. Brian likes everyone. That’s—like—athing. It’s in his personality. Helikeseveryone. Becauseeveryone, at one point or another, sends and receives mail.

And he loves mail.

Which means he should know what different colored wax seals stand for!

And he should know thatblue waxis reserved forletters of passion.

Furthermore, this is adeep azure. The blueier the blue, the feelingier the feelings.

Chewing my lip, I pace in my bedroom, wondering how in the world I survived the entire trip back from the ren faire without blurting anything inane likeI love youordo you know what very-blue blue wax means?

I’m being silly. Terribly silly. The letters we passed out had green and pink and red wax. Just an array of colors. Did I see any other blues? No. Was I looking for them, though?

Haha.

Yes.

If there had been a single other blue that I’d seen, I would have oh-so-casually said, “I think I’ll go deliver this one to that person over behind that building,” and then I would have hidden it in the frills of my skirt to hoard at home.

This means nothing.

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