Page 64 of Holiday Friend Zones
“Still hate Christmas songs?”he asks, grinning.
“Still love torturing me with them?”
“Tradition,” he says, and for a second it feels exactly like old times—me in the passenger seat, him at the wheel, trading jabs until my cheeks hurt from laughing.
Snow drifts lazily past the windshield as we wind up the mountain road toward the cabins.Lights twinkle in the distance, warm dots against the white hills.My chest tightens with something I can’t quite name.
“So, your parents…” I begin carefully.
“Florida,” he says.“Decided last minute to extend their trip.My sister needed more help with the baby.”
“Oh.”Disappointment and butterflies tumble together in my stomach.“That’s right, you’re an uncle now.Have you gotten to meet your niece yet?”
“I have,” he beams.“Charlotte is as cute as a button.She didn’t want me to leave.Bawled for twenty minutes the day I had to fly back to Vermont.”
“She’s eight weeks old, country boy,” I reply with an eye roll, though the warmth in his smile lingers in my chest longer than it should.
I clear my throat, shifting the focus, getting ready to break the news to Liam.He and I are alone for Christmas.It’s probably better if I ask him to turn this truck around and take me back to the station.“So, my parents took off too.Last-minute trip to Boston.Dad got called in for something work-related, so Mom tagged along.Guess that means it’s just us this Christmas.”
He flicks a glance at me, the corner of his mouth tugging.“Guess so.”
Something about the way he says it makes the air in the cab feel warmer than it should.I look away quickly, watching the snow blur outside my window.Vermont looks so peaceful blanketed in snow.If I stayed, I could finally finish that book I’ve been dragging around for months, sleep until the sun is high, and maybe even spend an entire day curled up by the fire with nowhere to be but here.It wouldn’t bethatbad if I spent some time with Liam.
Just like old times, I remind myself.Nothing more.
The heater finally starts to do its job, thawing the tip of my nose, but it’s still no match for the quiet between us.We crest the hill and the homes we grew up in come into view, twin shapes tucked beneath heavy pines.Snow piles high on the roofs, but the porches sit in complete darkness.Not even a porch light.I frown.
“Really?”I glance at Liam as he pulls into the drive.“You didn’t leave a light on?”
He winces, then shrugs, totally unbothered.“I meant to.I guess I got distracted.”
“By what?”I press, already knowing the answer.
“By life.”He says simply, throwing the truck into park.“Besides, nothing says ‘Welcome home for Christmas’ like stumbling up an icy porch in the pitch black.”
I shake my head, unbuckling.“Some host you are.”
“Correction,” he says, climbing out and grabbing my bag.“I’m the chauffeur so my job is officially done.”
Shaking my head at him, I climb out of the truck.My boots sink into the snow, and for a second, I just stand there, staring at my family home.Same crooked porch swing, same wreath my mom insists on hanging every year even though it’s half bare.The sight punches me in the chest, harder than I expect.I left Vermont four years ago for school, telling everyone I needed a change of scenery.The truth was, I needed distance.My boyfriend at the time was an ass and suddenly this town felt too small to breath in.
Liam whistles low as he slams the truck door.“Guess it’s just us, huh?”
I huff out a breath, a laugh bubbling out despite myself.“Of course this would happen.What kind of small-town Hallmark nonsense?—”
“—would strand us alone in side-by-side houses at Christmas?”His eyes glint as he finishes for me.“The best kind.”
I roll my eyes, fighting the smile tugging at my mouth.“Don’t get any ideas.This is strictly survival.Hot cocoa, maybe a movie marathon, and then I head back to my very non-snowy, very Christmas-free life.”
“Sure,” he says easily, like he believes me.“Just like old times.”
But the way my pulse stutters as I follow him up the snowy porch steps says it’s already nothing like old times.
ChapterTwo
LIAM
The door creaks open, and a wave of cold air rushes out of Ava’s parent’s house like it’s been holding its breath for weeks.She flicks the switch, but the overhead light only sputters, then dies.
