Page 48 of The Jinglebell War
I strip down to my boxers, get into the double bed, and pull the comforter over my head. We would have more guest bedrooms in this house if my siblings weren’t all refusing to move out.
Which is exactly what my parents want.
I roll to my back, unable to get comfortable. My parents always get what they want.
And the fact that I’m even considering moving Evergreen Expeditions here means they’re way too close to getting what they want from me.
My hands fist as anger vibrates through me. Will they never stop manipulating me?
I don’t care what Blue thinks, she will never understand what it is to have a big, happy family who all find me lacking. Who will pull whatever strings necessary to win.
I need to get back to Yuletide and focus on my business. I do not need to move close enough for my parents to meddle in my life.
I flip onto my side and stare at the wall. Sleep. I need to be asleep when Blue gets here.
She should have been here already.
Maybe she decided to sleep on the couch and avoid me altogether. Perfect. That’s the best solution for both of us.
I flip onto my stomach, face pressed into the pillow. I’ll just wake up early and bring her back here so my family doesn’t find her on the couch.
It shouldn’t be any problem for me to wake up early. I’ve always been a morning person.
I listen for the sound of Blue’s footsteps on the hardwood floors. Nothing.
What if I don’t wake up in time? Most of my family are also early risers and a few of them are still in the stay-out-all-night creep-in early phase.
I don’t know how my siblings can stand to still live at home. They’ve never complained to me about our parents’ meddling, so maybe they like it.
Hudson claims he’s just saving up to buy his own place, but he’s got his own separate entrance to the house, as do all my siblings, and his suite has a kitchen and a sitting area.
He’ll probably move his wife in if he can ever find anyone to marry him.
With a sigh, I kick off the comforter, roll out of bed, grab my robe from the hook in the bathroom and hurry through the chilly house back to the parlor, where I expect to find Blue curled up on the couch.
“Come on, Blue,” I say before I’m all the way in the room. “I was joking. We can share the bed.”
Except Blue’s not on the couch. She’s not anywhere in the room. I even check behind the curtains in case she’s hiding, but she’s nowhere to be found.
What the hell kind of game is she playing? If this is another one of her pranks, I’m taking her back to Yuletide tonight.
God, I hope it’s another one of her pranks.
My parents’ house is huge and dark, and Blue could be anywhere. Most likely, she’s somewhere waiting to pour something disgusting on my head or to jump out and scare the shit out of me.
I should go back to bed. She’ll get bored and come to bed eventually, right?
I’m stepping out of the parlor, intent on doing just that, when Blue’s laughter rings out from the East wing of the house. What the hell is she doing over there?
And then it occurs to me exactly what she might find funny in that part of the house.
“Ah, shit.” I never should have brought her here.
I take off at a sprint, my bare feet slapping on the chilly wood floors. Maybe she’s laughing at my mother’s collection of stuffed animals in dresses or my father’s pen and ink drawings of the mountains. They’re terrible. We all know they’re terrible, but myfather thinks they’re masterpieces, and no one has the heart to tell him the truth.
But Blue’s not in the den of terrible artwork and anthropomorphized stuffed animals. Nope, she’s in the portrait gallery. Just as I feared.
“The paintings aren’t accurate,” I say. She’s standing in front of the most horrible depiction of me ever created. “The artist hated me.”
