Page 44 of Hiding for the Holidays
“Oh, you want to watch it in my room?”
“We could watch it in my room, or downstairs, but I thought this way if you fall asleep you’re at least in your own bed.”
“I guess my room makes the most sense. I’ll see you in a minute?” I ask, stepping towards my door.
“Yep.”
I quickly find my phone and charging cable and plug it in on my nightstand, setting the alarm for seven a.m. Then, I pull off my yoga pants and throw them over the desk chair before pulling back the covers and climbing into the large bed.
“Mmm…” I groan, feeling the softness of the bed. The mattress is firm but gives into my body, like memory foam, and the blankets and pillows are clean and soft against my skin as I sink into them. Maybe sleeping here would be easier than I thought.
“Enjoying the bed?” Asher asks, smirking at me as he walks around to the other side of the bed.
I swallow heavily as I eye him. He’s wearing dark gray sweatpants with a black tank top that’s so tight I can make out the outlines of every one of her muscles. His tattoos on his arms areon full display, and I now realize they cover his chest as well, or at least the top portion since they poke out everywhere.
He climbs in beside me, sitting on top of the blanket, as a large eagle tattoo on his arm catches my eye.
“Is this from your time in the army?” I ask, my finger teasing over one of the wings.
He glances down at where I’m touching and nods. “Yep. The three of us got tattoos on the same day to remember our time served together.”
“Do they have eagles, too?”
“No, Grant has a lion and Leo a wolf.”
I smirk up at him. “Not a lion for Leo?”
He smiles in amusement but shakes his head. “He has the wolf because it represents loyalty and brotherhood. Grant got the lion to represent leadership, as he was our squad leader.”
“And you got the eagle because you're fierce and brave?” I ask.
He smiles warmly as he corrects, “Strength and power.”
“Hmm, I like it. Maybe one day you can tell me about all your tattoos?” I’m not sure what makes me ask that, but it’s hard to picture him as my boss when we’re lying in bed together in our pajamas.
“One day.” He nods then points beside me. “The remote is on your nightstand.”
I roll over and grab it then pass it to him before getting comfortable on my side facing him but also at an angle where I can see the TV.
He switches on Netflix and starts to browse through the options before settling on A Christmas Carol, one of the old versions. I’m surprised by his choice, but the fact that it was one of my mom’s favorite movies has me holding my tongue as I try to get my emotions under control.
“Is this okay?” he asks, and I nod, not wanting him to hearthe emotion in my voice. To prevent him from seeing my face, I angle it slightly down so he can only see the top of my head, and I take slow, deep breaths as the opening scene starts.
I haven’t watched any Christmas movies since she passed, and it’s a weird sort of nostalgia watching them now. It’s a mix of happiness from the good memories with her and sadness for what I’ve lost.
Ten minutes into the movie, Asher’s hand starts to gently stroke through my hair, and a minute later he whispers softly, “Clara?”
“Hmm?” I ask, not turning around.
“I won’t ask if you’re okay; I know you’re not. But I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
I don’t answer him for a few minutes as I consider what to tell him. It wasn’t something I needed to hide, and it might actually feel good to tell someone about it. Someone who actually cared.
His fingers feel reassuring enough to make me speak. “This was my mom’s favorite Christmas movie.”
He’s quiet for a minute, and when he realizes I’m not going to say anymore he asks, “Where is she now?”
“She’s been gone a little over a year ago. Cancer.”
