Page 56 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
“This is so cool,” he says, his voice full of breathless wonder, then he drops to a crouch in front of a stack of unlabeled boxes. “There could be anything in here.”
I swipe at a cobweb. “Those boxes don’t belong to us.”
“True.” He nods. “But I’ll bet your parents would want you to check what’s inside. If the evaluator discovers something unsafe in here, he might not sign off on this as a potential listing.”
“Fine.” I take two steps backward. “Go ahead, Sherlock Holmes. But those boxes better not be full of skeletons.”
Three peels at the strip of duct tape sealing the top of the largest box. On his knees now, he gently opens the lid, and I inchforward until I’m positioned just above him. Inside, I catch flashes of silver edges. Piles of scuffed white leather. A tangle of laces.
Three looks up at me and grins. “Ice skates.”
“I used to love ice skating,” I say, as he removes one pair after another. “I haven’t been in years, though.” In fact the last time was with Bristol the winter of our senior year. After graduation, I never felt like I had time for unproductive stuff like … recreation. I was either working to enhance my law school applications, or studying after I got in. I’d collapse into bed at the end of each day. On weekends, I barely had enough energy to do anything besides laundry.
“This is amazing,” Three breathes out as he finishes unpacking the box. “Eight matching pairs.” He lines up the last set of skates on the ground beside him. “They look like they’re all different sizes.”
“I think the previous owner had six grandchildren, so these are probably theirs. Grandma Peabody, Grandpa Peabody, and the grandkids.”
“Probably. Do you think any of them might fit us?”
“Only one way to find out.” I plop onto a crate next to the now-empty box.
Three’s brow quirks. “Nowlook who’s excited that we came in here.”
“You can say ‘I told you so’ if you want.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I’ll save that for later.”
“How kind of you.” I try on the second-to-largest pairs of skates. They’re a little big for me, so I just lace them up extra tight. When I attempt to stand, Three lunges forward to help me. His touch is warm and strong—both electric and encouraging at the same time. He watches me while I take a few awkward stutter steps around the room.
“With our luck, you’re going to fall and hit your head on one of those crates,” he warns. “Then we’ll both have concussions.”
“Pessimist,” I smirk, willing my ankles to stop wobbling.
“On second thought,” he says, “it’s pretty refreshing to see you looking this awkward.”
“Awkward?” I reach up to tug at my Santa hat. “Ithinkyou mean adorable.”
“Honestly,” he tips his chin, “you remind me a little of Bambi on ice.”
This gets a real laugh out of me. “Then it’s a good thing I always wanted to be an animated woodland creature. And you know what?”
Step. Step. Step.
“What?”
“After the evaluator comes tomorrow, I think I’ll take these babies out on the lake for a little test run.”
“I believe I was promised a turkey dinner,” he says.
“Oh, ye of little faith.” I scoff. “I happen to be an excellent multitasker.” I take a few more tentative steps back toward the entrance to the den, just as the single lightbulb flickers. “What was that?”
“The bulb’s probably just loose,” Three says, moving toward the light. But before he can tighten the connection, the bulb pops and sparks, then dies plunging the room into darkness.
“No!” I gasp, as the air fills with a burning electrical smell.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, but I can’t see any—ACK!”
