Page 68 of War on Christmas

“I think you deserve the world, Frey. We could have everything. I want to give youeverything—” His voice breaks, and I swallow back a sob. “You’rethe one who’s too scared to try.”

Forty-Two

JEREMY

2 days until Christmas…

“Jem?”

I ignore her, choosing instead to focus on Bruce Willis kicking some serious ass as I work my way through a second box of Lucky Charms, the crunch of whole-grain oats almost drowning out the explosions rattling my mom’s TV. My sweatpants are stained with milk and red dye 40, my Green Bay Packers hoodie definitely smells like I haven’t showered since before the solstice party—because I haven’t—and I’ve been watchingDie Hardon a loop since late last night, when I slouched onto the couch in a stinking heap of heartbreak and despair.

It's my own 24/7 Christmas marathon.

Just like every Christmas.

“Jem, honey…”

My mom is standing behind me, out of my line of sight, but I know what she looks like. Face pinched. Narrow shoulders hunched with worry. She’s been checking on me periodically since I crashed into the house yesterday morning, my blood still pumping with adrenaline from my fight with Freya. I hadn’t wanted her to see me like that—pissed off, emotional, too out of control to make myself smaller and less intimidating—so I’d retreated to my room for the rest of the day, where I’d alternated between pacing and lying on my too-small bed, trying to think of anything that would make this all right.

Thad had let himself into my room mid-morning, looking ashen and subdued.

“You ok, man?” he asked. He was sitting at the small desk I’d used for homework, lanky frame folded forward with his elbows resting on his knees. I raised an eyebrow from where I lay sprawled on the bed, and he leaned back with a groan. “Stupid question,” he mumbled.

I stared at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I was supposed to make peace with this feeling in my chest, my guts, my bones. This feeling that things were going to go back to the way they were before. Butworse. I’d go back to the same routines. The same ass-kissing. The same uninspired work projects. The same relationships that I’d inevitably break off six months in, before she could expect a ring. Except now, instead of having a comforting familiarity, it would all be thrown into sharp relief against this time with Freya. These fraught, battle-filled days brimming with drama and laughter and sex that had reminded me there are entire parts of myself I’ve been denying. Days that had reminded me thatFreyais a part of me I’ll never feel complete without. Not really.

I swallowed, opened my mouth to speak. Swallowed again.

“I don’twantto go back to life without her,” I confessed, and across the room, Thad groaned and sunk his fingers into his hair.

“God, I feel like such an asshole,” he said, his words tight with agitation.

“Dude, it’s not your fault your sister doesn’t love me like I love her.” I lifted my head enough to glare at him. “That’s on my shit luck, not—”

“Ok, first of all,” Thad interrupted, “that is not what’s going on. She loves you, too, Jeremy. We both know it. And so does Freya. I’d bet anything that’s why she went off the rails this morning.”

I snorted. Part of me could see where he was going with this. Freya wasn’t unloving; Freya was terrified. I said as much directly to her face that morning. Well, more like shouted it loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.

Another part of me saw something altogether different. Call it a pattern. A series of coincidences. A curse. But part of me couldn’t help but feel like there must be something inherently wrong with me. Because I now had a track record of not only being ditched by my girl—twice—but by my own mother too. I kept putting myself out there, holding nothing back, and all I had to show for it was a lonely, sterile life back in Chicago that I now dreaded going back to.

“Also,” Thad grimaced, “this is kind of, sort of—fine,totally—my fault.”

I raised myself up onto my elbows to stare him down. “Did yousaysomething to her? Something to spook her? To make her—”

“No, no, nothing like that.” He shook his head. “But I may have, kind of, sort of—”

“Jesus, Thaddeaus, spit it out.”

“I may have given you and Freya a nudge to reconnect for my own selfish purposes?” He scrunched up his face, like he thought I might spring off the bed and punch him, but I flopped back onto the mattress, hands stacked behind my head.

“What are you talking about?”

He took a deep breath. Then another one.

“Shit, this feels like awful timing, but…” I could hear his gulp from across the room. “I’m going to propose to Sam. Christmas morning. Well, Iwas,” he amended. “And I can’t get married withoutyouthere. And I can’t get married withoutFreya. You’re my people. Both of you. So, I thought…maybe…it might be time for you two to figure out your shit?”

I sighed, both elated for Thad—Sam was perfect for him—and a little sickened by the punch of jealousy that gripped me. Thad had everything. His ideal job. An awesome, supportive family. The love of his life. All things I wanted and didn’t have. Things that whenever I truly reached for them, the universe—or whoever I’d pissed off out there—smacked me down with the proverbial newspaper like a misbehaving dog.

But just because Ifeltthat blast of envy didn’t mean I had toacton it.

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