Page 96 of A Not So Merry Rescue
We ate leftover chili as an early dinner and dessert will be later.
Now, we’re cozied up on the couch, a movie playing in the background, the only lights those of the tree. Willa was the one who plugged them in and doused the room with light, smiling as she did it. She’s tucked into my side, our legs tangled under the blanket, neither one of us taking it further than cuddling. Not that I don’t want to, but this is also nice. Something I didn’t think I’d enjoy as much as I do with her.
A phone rings faintly from the other room, and Willa groans. “It’s Clem. I can’t not talk to her.” She skirts out of my hold, leaving a cool breeze in her wake. When I think she’s going to take the call in my bedroom, she reappears, her phone held out in front of her, snuggling back into position. “Merry Christmas, Atlas. Did Santa bring you everything on your list?”
I peek to see the boy, his expression jubilant as one should be on Christmas.
“Yep. I got a new Creator Lego set, an A-Z mysteries box set, and a new bike.” He must be a reader like his aunt. Bet she loves how he’s into mysteries, too. Wonder if he knows what she does.
“Awesome. And what about Jace?”
“He got some blocks, a new puzzle, and a tablet to play on.” He seems less enthused about his brother’s gifts.
“That’s amazing,” Willa coos, her excitement palpable. I try to remove myself from under her to give her space, but she’s not having it. “Stay,” she murmurs, her eyes never leaving the screen.
So I do and listen as she chats with her nephews and her sister, getting my first look at Clem, noting the contradictions between them.
Clem’s fiery red hair is pin straight to Willa’s wild locks. Her eyes are a sparkling emerald green. She has more of an oval face, her lips less plump and more heart-shaped.
“Are you finally letting her leave tomorrow?”
Clem’s question catches me off guard, and I’m sure it shows on my face. “Uh, as soon as I can get her car fixed, she’ll be on her way. She’s itching to leave.” I try for joviality, but the cadence falls flat.
Clem laughs, but it’s short-lived, and a serious expression coats her face. “Thanks for taking care of her, for giving her back her spark. Even over the phone and FaceTime, the differences are obvious.”
“It’s been my pleasure.”
Which isn’t a lie. It has been a pleasure getting to know Willa this past week, but it’s so much more than that, too. Things I’m not prepared to deal with now. Maybe even later, after she’s gone. After her scent vanishes, fading without a trace.
“I’m excited to sleep in flannel sheets,” Willa declares, a yawn stretching her lips and gives me her attention. “How about coffee with dessert?”
“Regular or decaf?”
“Depends on how long you plan to keep me awake tonight.”
“On that note, I’ll say good night. Enjoy your last night in Winterberry. Call me when you’re on the road if you want company. Love you. Merry Christmas, Beckett.”
“Merry Christmas, Clem. Thanks for sharing your sister with me for the holiday.”
“As if I had a choice. I’m glad she celebrated the holiday. Her plans sounded so bleak?—”
“And good night, Clementine. Merry Christmas to you and the boys. Call you tomorrow. Love you.” Willa’s finger taps the red button a ridiculous number of times.
“So, that’s Clem.”
“That’s Clem.” She sinks against the cushions, trying to become one with the couch. “How about dessert and spiked coffee? Maybe start the movie over again or choose a different one. I’m lost.”
“Spiked with what?”
“Whatever’s in your liquor cabinet. Today, I’m not feeling too picky, just a little . . .”
I wait for her to finish the sentence. When she doesn’t, I prod, “A little . . .”
“Edgy? Unsettled? Restless. Yep, that’s it. Restless. You should build a fire. A fire, dessert, spiked coffee, and a movie. Perfect way to end the best Christmas I can remember.”
Her words elicit contradictory feelings, things I’m not prepared to tackle tonight.
And don’t get me started on the way she peers at me, challenging me to disagree with any of her suggestions.
