Page 1 of Say Yule Stay
1
LACEY
You have got to be freaking kidding me.
The words sound like a growl in my head as I stab at the radio looking for something—anything—other than Christmas music.
For fuck’s sake.
I know Starlight Bay is small—I mean, I grew up here—but therehasto be something other than the holly, jolly nightmare playing through the speakers. Distracted, I feel my tires start to lose traction on the snow-covered street. The coastal town rarely gets any real accumulation but of course, this would be the one year thathasto be different.
Tapping the brakes, I try not to panic as the car slides because surely, on top of everything else the universe has thrown at me this week, I won’t be in an accident in my hometown when no one knows I’m coming.
But that’s exactly what happens.
It starts slow, my car gently careening from one side of the empty road to the other, and instead of trusting myself, I overcorrect, turning the wheel hard and biting back a curse. The movements are rushed and jerky, causing the car to spin out ofcontrol toward a snowbank, conveniently located in front of the lone house on this road, and I brace for impact.
Like it’s happening in a movie, the passenger side tires catch the hard, packed snow pushed off the road by the plow and ride along the edge.
I take back all the bad things I said about the radio stations!
My prayers go unanswered as my car follows the path of least resistance, a dip in the snowbank that provides the perfect resting place for the hunk of metal with me inside. I grip the wheel as I’m jostled around, thankful my seatbelt is keeping me more or less unharmed as I wait for this nightmare to end.
What feels like hours later, my car blessedly comes to a stop.I’m okay.
Now it’s time to assess the damage.
My heart is racing like a jackrabbit as I step on the gas and listen to the engine rev and the tires spin.
Shit.
At least I’m mostly off the road.
And also now in this person’s front yard.
Nothing says happy holidays quite like a stranger in your snowbank.
Wrenching my door open, I awkwardly climb out of the driver’s side, my heeled boots—the ones for fashion not function—sinking into the snow as I try to find some even ground so I don’t fall flat on my ass.
“Son of a bitch, what in the absolute?—"
I’m so lost in the moment that I don’t hear the front door open and I definitely don’t hear anyone come onto the porch.
Not until it’s too late.
“Lacey Brock, did you crash your car into my front yard or are you just happy to see me?”
2
WALKER
“Are you fucking kidding me, Walker?” Lacey snaps, her hands on her narrow hips as she stares at me. Her blonde hair is still naturally wavy and hangs just over her shoulders. I can’t see what she’s wearing behind the car, but that doesn’t matter because my best friend’s little sister ispissedand my day just got a whole lot better.
“You’ve really added a certain ambiance to the yard. What do you think about adding some Christmas lights around the windows?” I mention, pointing with my free hand in the general direction of her car as I cradle a cup of coffee in the other and lean against the porch railing.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, ignoring my joke.
“I live here.”
