Page 51 of Christmas on Ice
“You needed your sleep. Even Ryleigh thought so. She woke me up before seven and told me you were snoring and wouldn’t stop.”
I cringed. “Sorry?”
She laughed. “No worries! You know I’ll miss her when y’all go back to Colorado.”
“I know. But we’ll be home for good soon.”
“Hmm. I’m not so sure of that.”
I dropped the clothes I’d chosen on the bed. “No? Why not?”
“Trask. You’ve got it bad for him, Kam. And it’s mutual. Don’t let that fish go.”
“But—”
“No buts. Speaking of, he’s called me twice this morning. Wants to know if he can come by. I told him I’d have you call him when you woke up.”
“Thanks. Let me get dressed. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
I ended the call, threw my clothes on and ran into the bathroom to make myself presentable. I texted Bonnie on my way downstairs and asked for updates. Nothing new.
My parents convinced me to stay home and visit with the family. There really wasn’t anything I could do at the hospital, and besides, what would I tell Ryleigh if I left? Everyone had been instructed not to mention anything to her. She was too little to understand, and she wasn’t allowed in the ICU. I wouldn’t want her to see her dad like that anyway. The way he looked … it would haunt me forever, and I was a grown adult. Ryleigh didn’t need that image burned in her brain.
I texted Trask, and he asked if he could come by today. I wasn’t ready for him to meet Sutton’s parents, so tomorrow morning wouldn’t work. I decided tonight was better and would cause me less stress until I figured out what to do about Sutton.
I went into the kitchen to join in on the cookie-baking chaos. My grandfather was there, and Ryleigh had put him in charge of drawing smiley faces on the gingerbread men before she doused them in too many sprinkles.
Trask arrived and fit right in, chatting with my grandparents and even helping Ryleigh mix together reindeer food. She’d made some at school but left it in Sutton’s car. Ryleigh told Trask about the oat and glitter mix, worried about Santa’s beloved animals flying on an empty stomach. He suggested carrots as a healthier alternative and complained good-naturedly when she insisted on adding the “pixie dust.” I giggled when I saw some in his hair, and I took pleasure in combing it out with my fingers.
The afternoon passed too quickly, and there were moments I completely forgot about Sutton and enjoyed myself. Then I’d find myself comparing the two and then felt guilty because Sutton could be dying.
After an enjoyable dinner set to a playlist of Ryleigh’s favorite Disney Princess Christmas songs, we all settled in the family room. Khloe appeared in the doorway and held up a book. “I thought since all of us are here, we could pick up on an old family tradition. Who wants to read first?”
“Me! I know this book!” Ryleigh abandoned the tiny dolls and princess houses under the tree that were currently serving as a Christmas village and ran to Khloe. “Can I please read, Auntie Khloe?”
“Of course, but you have to sit. And after you read the first page, you pass the book so we all get a chance to read.”
“Okay!” She ran to the couch, where Trask and I were sitting, and climbed up between us. “Now?” Khloe brought her the book, and she accepted it gleefully.
“I didn’t know you could read,” Trask said, leaning over her.
“I read pictures,” she said offhandedly as she thumbed through the first few pages.
“Ah,” he said. I caught his gaze and smiled. He winked back, and I felt a little bit of the stress leaving my body.
“I’m ready! Is everybody listening? Grandma and Grandpa, eyes on me! Mimi and PopPop, please stop talking. Aunties, please put your screens down. And Grandpa Silly, WAKE UP!”
Kassidy poked our grandfather gently. He startled awake, and we all laughed.
“Go ahead, Ryleigh,” I encouraged.
She cleared her throat dramatically. “It was the night before Christmas, and aaaaaaaaaall through the house, everyone was sleeping.” She pointed to the picture. “The mommy and the daddy were sleeping. And the kids were sleeping. The cat was sleeping. Even the mouse was sleeping!” She passed the book to Trask. “Your turn. Mommy can go last. She’s done this before.” I stifled a giggle as Trask accepted the book.
His rich baritone filled the room. I closed my eyes. I could listen to him read forever. “The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.”
“Santa hassomany names! Mr. Tiggerman, now you pass the book to Auntie Kassidy.”
He obliged, and the book made its way around. Ryleigh fell asleep toward the end, and Trask carried her to bed.
