Page 13 of The Crush of Christmas Past
Determined not to exploit the power imbalance between us and betray the trust she doesn’t even know she’s gifted me, I wage war against impulse and snuff out every feeling before it can spark action.
Jaw clenched, fingers digging into my thighs, I stop myself from reaching for her. Force my mind and body to accept that we’re just watching a stupid movie. Demand my heart submit to the lie that this is nothing more than a harmless holiday tradition.
Isla Greene isjustmy little brother’s friend.
She doesn’t mean anything. We can never mean anything.
Isla blinks, scanning the card again before looking back up at me.
A flash of confusion ripples across her forehead. Nose scrunched, brow furrowed, teeth worrying at her bottom lip—her trademarkwhat-the-hell-is-happeningface is in full effect.
Over the years, I’ve become an expert at reading every nuance of her expression. Just like she’s come to know the signature of my handwriting.
She’s clearly wondering why I threw that movie into the mix.
Truthfully? I don’t have an answer.
No logical one, anyway.
Perhaps I’m just a bastard who wanted to drag her back into the past with me. Craved to stir something in her—in us both—by resurrecting a memory that should’ve stayed buried.
I give her a nonchalant shrug.
What else do I have to offer?
“Here we go!” Willow claps loudly. “Bring it home, babe!”
Isla straightens her spine, then points to herself with an apparentmesignal. Her gaze darts around the room, intentionally avoiding mine.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Graham launches from his seat, his enthusiasm so over-the-top it makes us all jolt to attention. “It’s a Wonderful Life, right?!”
Isla freezes, her finger still suspended in the air. “Wow,” she breathes, awe winding through her voice.
Graham beams. “Remember the year you and Teddy started a fire in the attic when you fell asleep with the projector running? I had to haul your butts out, and you begged me to save the film strip first. Said it was your favorite vintage Christmas movie.”
“Wow,” Isla repeats, flashing an impressed smile at my stepdad. There’s a split second where her gaze slides toward me, but she instantly readjusts her focus. “Great memory, Graham.”
“Well, you know, the drama of the situation really helped cement it into my brain.”
“Dad! What the heck are you doing?” Felix groans, burying his head in his hands. “You just handed them the win! You’re not supposed to conspire with the enemy!”
“Your sweet, beautiful mother could never be my enemy.” Graham strides over to the rival camp to press a gentle kiss on Mom’s forehead.
A chorus of loud, exaggerated gags erupts from my brothers as they’re forced to bear witness to the cuddle-fest that ensues.
Willow hoots. “Another point for the women! We’reunstoppable.” She shakes her head at us. “And you’re truly terrible at this game.”
Isla tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shifts on her feet. “Guess my work here is done.”
On her return to the couch, her gaze snags on mine and she stumbles.
My heart does, too.
She recovers quickly.Much faster than me.
Sinking back into her seat, she pulls a decorative pillow into her lap. Her fingers toy with the tassel in the corner, twisting it restlessly.
The sound of Asher’s return pulls her attention.
