Page 24 of The Crush of Christmas Past
“He saidfamily.” Taking a few backward steps, she begins to retreat. “So, you and Jo—”
“Get in the sled, Isla.” It comes out sharper than I intended.
She freezes, hazel eyes widening, glossy lips parting.
The air shifts, but it has nothing to do with the winter breeze blowing between us.
She hesitates, gaze darting between the sled and me. Then something in her expression shifts. Defiance eases into interest, which melts into submission.
My pulse stutters when she nods her agreement.
I have no clue what just transpired. The only thing I’m certain of is that it feels immoral to take pleasure in the additional layer of tension it brought on. It’s probably also criminal that I don’t simply delight in her surrender —I’minspiredby the damn thing.
Jovie cheers as we approach. Nick helps Isla in first, and I follow, trying to keep my distance. The tight quarters make the feat impossible. Our legs brush, and every nerve in my body flares to life.
Nick, never one to miss the subtlest of details, flashes a sly grin my way. “Wrap your arms around your lady, son, so we can take a proper picture.”
I stiffen, jaw clenching as I shoot him a warning look.
The bastard winks in response.
“Hurry!” Jovie twists around, her little hand tugging insistently at the sleeve of my jacket. “Santa can’t wait! He needs to get my unicorn!”
Isla shrugs one shoulder, as if to grant consent. “You heard the boss.”
Inhaling sharply through my nose, I shift closer, letting my arm settle around her shoulders. The curve of her body fits too perfectly against mine, and for a fleeting second, my self-control wavers.
Her trust feels like a sin.
“Everyone say:candy canes!” Nick instructs, flipping Isla’s camera to selfie mode. “Let’s dosleighbellsnext. Good. Last one—reindeer games!”
Isla adjusts her posture, tilting her head just enough for her temple to brush against my shoulder. The contact is feather-light and innocent, but it shifts my world off-axis. Heat skims up the back of my neck as I fight to keep still.
Being this close to her is a twisted kind of torture.
Nick’s voice comes from some distant place, urging me to quit scowling. I muster a passable smile, but my focus is shot. Isla laughs beside me as Jovie hams it up in front of us. Their voices disappear under the loud hammering of my heart.
“Okay, got it!” Nick announces, lowering the phone. “Now, who’s ready to share their wishes?”
“All done with wishes.” I spring out of the sleigh, scooping Jovie into my arms.
Keeping my gaze locked straight ahead, I ignore the pull to glance back at Isla. The ache in my chest dares me to push past resolve, but I won’t risk reading too deeply into the look in her eyes.
And I definitely can’t allow her a glimpse of what’s written in mine.
Nine
Theo
Thefirecracklesinthe pit, casting shadows on the snow-covered trees. I sit in an Adirondack chair, the smoky scent of burning wood filling my lungs, my siblings’ chatter ringing in my ears.
Near the shed, Felix and Rowan are locked in a ruthless game of horseshoes. One of their phones streams the match to their best friend, Beckett, who is away on a ski vacation in the Alps. Even from here, I catch the familiar cadence of his voice, narrating the showdown between my brothers. Unlike me, the guy hates missing out.
Mom and Graham have called it a night, retreating upstairs to check on Jovie, leaving Willow free to unwind after her busy evening at the hospital. She’s soaking off her shift in the hot tub,ribbons of steam drifting around her face. Isla lounges beside her, animated and glowing, as she brings our Christmas market adventure to life.
Amidst reenacting one of Jovie’s over-the-top picture poses, she lets out a sunny laugh, its brightness piercing straight through me. That sound has always held the power to undo me, leaving me thirsting after it like a parched man. And her smile—her fucking smile—is a beam of light straight to the darkest part of my soul. Radiant enough to melt its way through my armor, it taunts me to reach out, pull her close, and drink in her warmth down to the last drop.
I force myself to tune her out and rip my gaze away, shifting my attention to the dancing flames instead. No matter how badly I want her—no matter how deep she’s carved her way into me—Isla will never be mine.
