Page 30 of Secret Santa

“Has she?”

“Not that I know of. Maybe you can convince her. I heard the two of you took a spin on the holiday carriage on Friday night.”

Kimball winked at me before raising his eyebrows in suggestion.

“Jesus, Priscilla wasn’t kidding. Word gets around fast in this town.”

“Only because Fitzy and my mama are practically kin they’re so close to one another.”

“We had a wonderful date,” I told him, holding up my hand so he knew I wouldn’t discuss it further. “Do you know if her winning the state fair would be in like a newspaper clipping or anything? I hoping to find something along those lines for a Secret Santa gift. You’d think she’d have those accolades lining the walls of her diner.”

Kimball said nothing for long moments. I watched him search his phone, put it down, pick it back up again, before finally speaking again.

“Priscilla prefers not to have any attention on her,” he said. “Awards and accolades—she wouldn’t display those. Her popularity is all derived through word of mouth.”

I was almost positive that went back to what she’d told me about her dad and mom. How she shrinks herself so no one pays attention to her. I’d looked up the word duff after she’d used it. What a disgusting word. Never in my life would I have ever looked at her and considered her the “designated ugly fat friend.”

Knowing that she thought the town regarded her like that made me want to dig in my heels and help her see that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Are you all set for Wednesday?” Kimball asked, as the kids began filing in.

“Hope so. I know I have nothing to hide, but it doesn’t mean I’m not waiting for some shoe to drop. Charley Villa has gone to great lengths to take Beckett down. I can’t say I’m not a little scared.”

“I hope you know you’re not facing this alone. We all know this is a ludicrous accusation. And personally, I just can’t imagine how tough it is to be dogged by your brother’s shadow time after time. He’s a great guy—I’m so impressed that he flew out here and helped advise and consult this week. But, even so—you deserve some time in the spotlight. I really hope that you get to enjoy it soon.”

ChapterEighteen

I existed on a cloud. Or a haze of exhaustion, but cloud sounded much more pleasant. As Thanksgiving loomed my days got longer. Presley continued to provide some kids from the swim team to help fill gaps of my temp servers and the line cook I finally called uncle and hired. Despite him being overwhelmed with tournaments and inquisitions he still showed up at the diner every evening at eight o’clock to help me sift, stir, sort, box—whatever I needed help with. And when I submitted to my exhaustion, he was there to escort me home.

Knowing Wednesday was a big day for both of us, we spent Tuesday night together watching one of the eighty-seven million iterations ofA Christmas Carol.

“I’m such a sucker for this movie.” I sighed, snuggling deeper into the warmth of Presley’s chest.

“I totally get how a story about redemption would rank highly on your list.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well, given what you’ve told me about your mom and your situation here in Bourbon City, having someone like Scrooge, essentially the town pariah, be welcomed back into the fold of society because of his commitment to being good? It’s obviously not an identical story, but it certainly draws along the same parallel.”

“You took up your mom’s cause, doubling down and working twice as hard to show the town that you two are worthy of a forgiveness you don’t need. Your mom didn’t need it either. The person who should seek forgiveness is the one who stole. Not the people he left behind.”

His words were soft and kind, but they knocked against old wounds like razors. Tears I didn’t know I possessed spilled uninhibited. The moment Presley realized I’d started to cry, I was in his lap and wrapped in his arms. He held me and let me cry, occasionally running a soothing hand through my hair or down my back. But he gave me the space to feel sad.

“You’re the one with the scary day tomorrow.” I half laughed, half cried. “So why are you the one comforting me?”

“Sometimes the best way to ease your own fears is to help someone else face theirs.” He ran his cheek along mine, resting his chin on my shoulder while my tears quieted.

“You have achieved so much.” He told me, “Your mom would be really proud. Not because of your immense success, but because of the joy you bring to others, and the happiness you exude every second you’re in that diner.”

There was a word that crept up my throat. It so badly wanted to be spoken. One that said he meant more to me than a Secret Santa, or a good neighbor, of even a boyfriend. It said, what I feel for you doesn’t feel like anything I’ve ever had before. It said things like permanence, and partnership. It was a word that existed far too soon for what we were. So I pushed it back down. Despite how right it felt to be said, in my head it felt like more months on the calendar should pass before I’d actually know if what I felt was truly associated with that word or if this moment in time, my emotions simply had the better of me.

ChapterNineteen

No matter what happened, I had my brothers, I had Priscilla, I had Coach Kimball and the whole university behind me. I knew there was no wrongdoing. Knew that if the ruling came down finding me at fault, there would be appeals, and Beckett had people at the ready to start asking hard questions about Charley Villa. That didn’t mean that I wasn’t vibrating with anticipation and sweating through my suit shirt.

Beckett: Call me

He was Mr. send a text with the most personal details of his life. Seeing the words “call me” pop up on my screen with less than fifteen minutes before our meeting with USAS had me eyeing the closest trashcan to empty my stomach.

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