Page 67 of War on Christmas

“You are seriously pissing me off, Sunshine,” Jeremy growls in my ear.

I close my eyes, digging deep for the willpower to keep my face neutral as I turn around in the circle of his arms. When I open them, he’s glaring at me, leaning down so he’s just inches away. I glare back.

“Jeremy Kelly!” From across the street, Mrs. Johnson’s shrill voice cuts through the frigid air like a blow horn. “Is that Nilsen girl bothering you?”

Fuck me.That old crone always did like Jeremy better than me. It boggles the mind that anyone would look at Jeremy trapping me against a car and ask ifhewas ok, but that’s Mrs. Johnson for you. I peek around Jeremy’s shoulder to narrow my eyes at her, standing on her porch in her nightgown and winter coat, white hair blowing like a dandelion puff. She takes a step back, like I’ve just given her the plague with my evil eye.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Johnson,” Jeremy calls out, keeping his eyes on me.

“You sure I shouldn’t call the police?” a deep, shaky voice asks. Old Mr. Pasterski stands in his driveway holding an ancient cell phone the size of a cereal box, clearly unwilling to let Mrs. Johnson get the edge on neighborhood gossip. “You know that Nilsen girl has it out for you.”

I huff out a breath, and a cloud of mist rises between Jeremy and me.

“Believe me, Mr. Pasterski, I know,” Jeremy calls out over his shoulder. On either side of me, his thick, tree-trunk arms flex, and I have the distinct impression he’s trying not to throttle me. “But I’ve got it all under control.”Hardly.“No need for the police. You and Mrs. Johnson can go back inside now.”

“Oh my god, Frey,” Leo pipes up, “is this like one of those Christmas romances on TV? Is he the one who got away? Does he want you to pop out his ginormous, lumberjack babies and—”

“Honey,” my mom, bless her heart, interrupts him, “why don’t you come inside for a cup of coffee? It must have been an early morning for you, and there’s a fresh pot ready to go.”

Jeremy and I stare each other down, the air thick with tension, while Mom herds Leo into the house, both of them chatting away. A quick glance across the street confirms that Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Pasterski are still watching us, of course, but I ignore them, turning my attention back to the real threat. Jeremy towers over me, pain and confusion etched on every line of his face.

“I thought we were past this,” he grits out between his teeth. “I thought, after last night—”

“I guess you thought wrong.”

He nods, the muscles in his throat working. Even pissed off, he’s so beautiful, it makes my stomach flip. The early morning sunshine gilds his sandy hair and golden skin, and the thought that this, right here, might be the last time I ever see him leaves me weak-kneed with panic.

It’s for the best. The best forhim,I remind myself. There may have been a time when things could have gone differently.Wecould have gone differently. But we were still kids when our paths diverged. The amount of work and compromise it would take to forge a real life together now… I don’t change myself for relationships. I gave that up after Ryan, and dammit, I’m not starting again now. Jeremy needs someone tamer, gentler.

Someone who’s not me.

“I can’t stop you from leaving.” His voice drops. “But I’m damned if you’re going to ghost me again. If you’re going to go, look me in the eye this time and tell me why. At least be fucking honest.”

I press my shoulders into the car door, shivering in my thin, gray sweater as I cross my arms over my chest and tuck my hands under my armpits to hide their shaking. That pain, sharp and blinding, is rattling behind my breastbone. I stare over Jeremy’s shoulder, trying my best to appear bored. When he realizes I’m not going to respond, he releases a long, thunderous grumble, his hands tensing like he wants to rip off the car door, Hulk-style.

“Fuck, Frey!” he hisses, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuck you!” I snap. “We’re too different. Ourlivesare too—”

“No, fuckyou!” he snaps back, brow furrowing. “And fuck this whole lie you tell yourself that you have so much more integrity than everyone else. That you’re so much more honest. That’s what you’re supposed to be so good at, isn’t it? Honesty?”

I rip my chin out of his grasp and stare straight at his chest, a solid green wall expanding and contracting with every labored breath he takes. My throat tightens, and I try to swallow the burning sensation, but I can’t, so I choke on it.

“You’re scared,” he continues. “You try to act like such a bad ass, but you’re fucking terrified. Because you love so big and so hard.” His forehead drops to mine, and the point of warm, skin-to-skin contact brings back such clear memories of early this morning—his head pressed to mine as he moved over me, inside me—that I lock my knees to stop my legs from wobbling. “You’re scared because if we give this thing a shot—a real shot—and it doesn’t work out, you don’t trust yourself to handle the fallout.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to block out the anguish edging his voice.

“I’m done changing myself to please a partner.” I make my voice hard. Cold. But even I can hear it tremble. “Ilikemyself, Jeremy, and I won’t compromise myself for a relationship. I’m done with—”

“When have I asked you to be anything—anything—other than what you are?” He pulls back, stares me down. “I love you, Freya.You. I loved you then, when we were still practically kids, and I love you now. Exactly as you are. So use your bullshit excuses on someone else, because I haveneverasked you to change.”

My eyes sting, and I drop my head to hide my tears, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. Like I can hold the pieces of my breaking heart together if I press hard enough. This,thisis what I wanted to avoid. This scene. This suffering. Jeremy shakes his head, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he steps back.

Away from me.

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