Page 41 of The Crush of Christmas Past
“All. Of. Them.” He lets out a cackle worthy of a cartoon villain when recognition flashes across my face. “Since Isla began her gap year. Of course, calling it agap yearis a stretch, considering she was mourning instead of frolicking across Europe.”
“True. The frolicking was your job.” Hence the need for voice notes in the first place.
Right after high school, Asher was accepted into a year-long, prestigious photography internship withContinental Chronicles. Being the youngest recipient ever—his portfolio wasthatimpressive—he couldn’t turn down the opportunity. And that’s when I got sucked into the caretaking role.
“I have voice notes detailing the entire time you spent with her,” he says. “The earlier ones are obviously angry.” He drops his voice, mimicking my cadence. “Are you out of your damn mind, Ash? You expect me to commute home every weekend to babysit your little friend? She doesn’t even want me anywhere near her place! She chucked a—” He pauses, pointing to me. “What did she throw at yourhead again?”
“A toaster.” I touch my shoulder as the memory resurfaces. “Thankfully, her aim was off.”
“Right.” My brother nods, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m sure you did something to deserve it.”
“I’m sure I did,” I reply dryly. “I wasn’t exactly the warm, fuzzy follow-up to you, of all people.”
He hangs his head. “I left her at the worst possible time. I should’ve delayed my start date and stuck around to help her pack up the house.”
“You had no choice,” I tell him. “Mom, Graham, Willow, and I had it covered.”
Well, I helped once Isla finally allowed me inside.
Emptying all those rooms, sifting through her parents’ personal belongings—it almost broke me. I can’t even imagine the insurmountable pain she’d endured.
Back in the early days, I didn’t care to ask.
I was still trying to convince Asher I was the wrong choice of mentor for his friend. There were much healthier—more stable—members of our family who could’ve done a better job. My mother was the strongest human I knew. If anyone could drag themselves out of literal hell and help someone else do the same, it was her. My sister, though only sixteen at the time, was closer to Isla’s age and had an easy way of connecting with people I never quite mastered.
Sure, I had experience with darkness. But guiding an eighteen-year-old through the wreckage of losing everything that mattered? I was wildly underqualified and unprepared.
Once her family home sold, Isla moved in with Mom and Graham, and suddenly, we were living under the same roof every weekend. With the demands of my job, Saturdays and Sundays were all I could give Asher—and her.
Those turned out to be some of our bleakest days. She barely spoke. Didn’t shed a single tear, either. Just clung to this unnerving stoicism as if even the slightest emotion might’ve shattered her into tiny, jagged pieces.
I eventually found out she was sneaking off to the springs to cry. By then, winter was closing in, and the ground she sat on for hours was frozen solid. My boss questioned my demand for two weeks off right after being tapped for a big promotion, but I didn’t care. I spent every day of my leave sitting next to Isla on that bridge over the water.
Not uttering a single word. Just…being there.
Eventually, her tears stopped, and she began drawing.
“I have a lot of notes from your first Christmas together,” Asher says.
Isla obviously wasn’t in the mood to celebrate that year. My whole family—minus Asher, who was in Tanzania—banded around her. We watched cheesy horror movies and played violent video games. Steered clear of anything that even hinted atfamily. We skipped gifts on purpose, but once I found out she was obsessed with Hazel’s creations, I stocked the fridge to the brim with her favorite Winter Wonderland cupcakes. Though she didn’t say much that week, she did eat every last one.
“Your messages got brighter in the new year.” Asher’s voice lifts. “You were so excited when she started creating again. I got spammed with pictures of her working. And of the work. I’m not sure anyone had ever been prouder of our girl than you during that period.”
“She deserved my admiration. It was a big step.” Hell, had I been in her shoes, I’m not sure I could’ve done it.
“You called it aSunshine Renaissance.”
I nod. “It was around then that her smile started making a brief appearance.”
And that smile—it was like a ray of sunshine breaking through heavy storm clouds. First soft, tentative, then so bright and beaming it was a direct hit to my heart.
“I was in Nepal when you were helping her with college applications.” His eyes turn glassy. Distant. As if he’s traveling back through time and space in his mind. “There was one moment when you wanted to suggest a school near your apartment in the city, remember? You figured you could continue the mentorship that way.”
Thankfully, I never followed through in sharing those selfish fantasies with Isla. That program would have been wasted on someone with her skills.
“She ended up going to the perfect school,” I say. One she’d been eyeing since well before I came into the picture. I’d just confirmed what she already knew. “It was the best decision for her.”
“Ten months into your friendship, I was shooting in Patagonia when she told me she had a crush on you. I didn’t pass on the info, of course.” He winks, a sly grin tugging at his lips before adding, “Bestie-bestie confidentiality.”
