Page 56 of Cross Check Christmas
"No. But he would beat on my mom."
The admission hangs in the frigid air between us, and I've never wanted to punch someone I've never met so badly in my life.
"Is that..." My throat feels tight, each word a struggle. "Is that how she died?"
I'd heard about Mrs. McAllister's passing a few years back, but everyone said it was an illness. I'd sent a card, feeling awkward and distant, not knowing what to write. No one ever mentioned...
"No." Colette's voice cracks. She brushes snow from her hair, still not meeting my eyes. "The drinking got her in the end. Dad took off during our senior year, and Mom... she just fell apart. She had no job, no skills—he'd never let her work. The depression hit her hard, and she found comfort at the bottom of the bottle."
The snow continues falling around us, but I barely notice the cold anymore. I remember Colette during that time, how she'dstopped participating in class discussions, stopped raising her hand. I'd thought she was just stressed about finals.
She takes a shaky breath.
"I couldn't leave her like that.” Colette continues. “Everyone else was heading off to college, starting their lives, but I... I stayed.Got a job as an aide at Brookking High, took online classes at night for my teaching credentials. Someone had to pay the bills, make sure she ate, clean up the..." She trails off, and I can fill in the blanks myself.
I'd been such an idiot back then. While I was off playing hockey and living my dreams, she'd been here, shouldering burdens no teenager should have to carry. All those times I'd teased her about being an overachiever, how she always had her nose in a book, the way she kept everyone at arm's length – it wasn't because she was stuck up. She was holding her world together by sheer force of will.
"I didn't know," I whisper. "Colette, I'm so sorry. I should have?—"
“It’s fine." She sniffles with a humorless laugh. "I don’t know why I’m telling you all this…”
I reach out and wrap her hand in mine. It’s ice cold from throwing snowballs with no gloves. “I’m grateful you told me.”
Her hands feel like ice in mine. "Come here," I murmur, pulling her to her feet. Snow clings to her hair, her shoulders, her cheeks – I brush it away with gentle sweeps of my fingers. She's shivering, the blanket doing little to ward off the cold. Without hesitation, she steps into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist. I envelope her in my embrace, trying to share my warmth.
"Thank you for listening," she whispers against my sweater.
I respond by squeezing her tighter, knowing that any second, we’ll have to go back inside to warm up by the fire, breaking thismagical moment. Before I let it end, I press a chaste kiss at the crown of her head, then pull back.
But she tilts her face up to mine, the moonlight catching in her eyes, making them glisten like stars. My breath hitches in my throat at the invitation I see there.
With my heart thundering against my ribs, I cup her face in my hands and lean down, tentatively pressing my mouth to hers. Her lips are soft, tasting faintly like hot chocolate. They’re cold from the snow, but warming quickly under mine.
The kiss is gentle, tender – everything I've wanted to show her since high school but never knew how. My whole body feels alive with the sensation of finally, finally kissing Colette McAllister properly.
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat and presses closer, her fingers curling into my jacket like she never wants to let go.
I cup her face in my hands and deepen the kiss just enough to make her sigh. Her tongue brushes mine, tentative but eager, sending sparks down my spine. My head spins with the realization that this is real - I'm actually kissing Colette McAllister under the stars, and she's kissing me back like she means it. Like maybe she's wanted this as long as I have.
Everything about this moment feels right – the quiet snow falling around us, the way she fits perfectly against me, how she kisses me back with equal parts sweetness and heat.
The kiss deepens, and my whole world narrows to this moment – the soft press of her lips, the way her fingers clutch my sweater, how perfectly she fits against me.
The rest of the world fades away until there's nothing but this – just me and her and the soft whisper of snowflakes landing on our shoulders.
All I can focus on is Colette, and how right this feels.
No other woman has ever made me feel like this. Like my heart might burst from my chest. Like I've finally found something I didn't even know I was missing.
Maybe that's why none of my relationships ever worked out. Maybe I've been comparing every woman to Colette McAllister since high school, measuring them against an impossible standard. No one else stood a chance.
Tucker's stupid bet flashes through my mind – the dare to get Colette to fall for me before Christmas. But as I hold her closer, tasting hot chocolate and possibility on her lips, I realize I don't give a damn about winning some juvenile bet. This is real. She is real. And whatever's happening between us means more than any childish game.
I've spent years pretending I didn't care, acting like she was just the uptight teacher who never gave me the time of day. But standing here in the moonlight, snow gathering on our shoulders as we kiss, I can't deny it anymore. I'm falling for Colette McAllister. Maybe I never stopped falling for her in the first place.
I feel her shiver against me, and reality crashes back. We're standing in the snow without proper winter gear, and her fingertips are starting to turn blue. Reluctantly, I break the kiss, though everything in me screams to keep holding her.
"Inside," I murmur, rubbing her arms to generate warmth. "Before you freeze to death."
