Page 51 of Rebel Without a Claus
So what’s with the mood?
“Thanks for bringing everything,” I say, folding my arms to keep from reaching for him. “That means tomorrow we can just drive the reindeer over, set them up, and Dad gets to play Santa for the kids and judges. Easy-peasy.”
Luke finally looks up. His eyes are unreadable. “Sure… easy.”
My stomach knots. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head, looking away, like he regrets saying anything. “Nothing.”
“No,” I step forward. “You drove all the way over here to drop off perfectly labeled containers while pretending like you’re not mad about something. So whatever it is, just say it.”
He pauses, then asks, “Are you planning on sticking around after the holidays?”
My mouth opens—and then closes. Because yes. I mean… I think so. Probably.
But I haven’t told him about the job offer in LA yet, and now, the way he’s looking at me, the weight in that question, the trap it suddenly feels like—I panic.
“I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
“Really?” His jaw tightens again. “You haven’t thought about it?”
“I’ve been a little busy wrangling your reindeer and trying to keep the lodge from financially imploding,” I shoot back. “I figured the whole ‘existential life plan’ thing could wait until after we win the festival tomorrow and I secure my parent’s future… at least for the next 12 months.”
Luke nods slowly, like that answer confirms something he already suspected. Then he lifts one of the bins and moves it to the right side of the reindeer pen.
I follow. “Did someone say something to you?”
“Nope,” he replies, his answer way too short to be truthful.
“Then what’s going on?”
He turns to me, brow furrowed. “Would you even tell me if youwereplanning on leaving?”
My breath catches.
“Why would I be leaving?” I ask, even though the words feel like a lie in my mouth. I haven’t accepted the job. I wasn’t going to. Not really.
But I didn’t exactly turn it down yet either.
He doesn’t answer. Just stares at me like he’s trying to solve a riddle with no right answer.
I swallow hard. “Luke…”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, too quickly. “We had a night. A few nights, actually.. I helped you win Caroloke, and you taught a reindeer to eat candy canes out of your hand. That doesn’t exactly spell wedding bells and a lifelong commitment.”
The wall is back up. The one I spent two weeks chipping away at.
And worse, I can hear it in his voice—the thing he’s not saying. He’s already preparing to let me go.
“Do you want me to stay?” I ask, heart thudding.
He doesn’t answer. Not right away. And the longer the silence stretches between us, the more it sounds like no.
“I should get back to the farm,” he mutters, brushing past me.
“Luke.” I catch his sleeve. He stops, but doesn’t turn. “I love it here. I love my parents. I love the lodge. And I love… I love…”
But I can’t say the last part. Not when he won’t even look at me. “I love y?—”
