Page 4 of Winter Break Up

God, the guy is still so arrogant. Why is that so damn attractive? I pretend to busy myself with the lockbox of cash and change so that I don’t have to interact with these two idiots.

“You’re out of practice, man. I’m going to school you this year. My record while you were away was a hundred and ten trees. Epic. Bet you can’t cut down anywhere close to that amount this winter break,” my brother brags, and I come this close to quipping about the seven stitches he had to get in his thumb when he almost cut it off two years ago.

“You’re so on. Loser has to buy the winner a steak dinner at Alpine’s.” Mercer’s deep voice runs over my body, and my heart aches.

Seeing him, hearing him this close, brings back so many memories. Especially at Christmas time, when I’m already feeling sappy and lonely and nostalgic.

“If you two get injured trying to do this, I’ll be so upset,” Mom speaks up, and I know she worries more about her boys than she does me.

I’m the smart one, the responsible one. I’m the sister who never steps off the path and will keep everyone else in line. Except for four months ago, when I didn’t, and it ended with my injuries teaching me a lesson.

“More than that, I’ll be sorely disappointed if you’re not focusing all your efforts on finding the perfect tree on the property. We’ve won the Queenwood Christmas Tree-Off five years in a row at this point, and I will not lose to the McGibbons or the Kasterniks. I’m counting on you three to make us proud and pick the best tree on the lot.”

Every Christmas, the town has its annual tree lighting. And so, every Christmas, the tree farms of Queenwood each present their most beautiful, most majestic tree for possible selection to be the “town tree.” The rivalry isn’t too laced with jealousy and competition—Mom and Dad are practically best friends with the McGibbons.

Queenwood has three tree farms that all become completely mobbed from Black Friday to December twenty-fourth. Aside from our farm, the McGibbons and Kasterniks each own land with rows and rows of pines. It’s an honor to be the farm whose tree is lit, seen by all the residents, fawned over, etc. Plus, having our name on the town tree generates a little more business for next year since the townsfolk want to buy from the farm with the best-looking trees.

Mom nods her head tersely like she means business. Mercer’s eyebrow lifts in a way that makes it known he’s accepting the challenge, and I flash back to five years prior when we were happily making out among the trees while pretending to search for a competition winner.

Mom has become a little intense about it in the past five years, but it has been good for business, so I guess I can’t blame her.

“Oh, we’ll win that tree-off, don’t even worry.” I wink at mom. “You know Dad always find the perfect one.”

If Dad has a sixth sense for anything, it’s selecting the perfect Christmas tree. Some might not say that’s a marketable skill, but maybe that’s because their family never owned a tree farm.

“I’m going to be the one to find it this year.” Charlie sticks his tongue out at me.

“But not if you injure yourselves in another silly competition. Eyes on the prize, kids.” Mom wiggles her eyebrows.

“We’ve got a nurse on staff now, no worries, Ma.” Charlie comes over and slings his arm around my shoulders, all but pulling me into a noogie.

“Get off me.” I struggle and duck out of his hold, setting my winter hat back on straight. “And I’m not a nurse yet, not even licensed. I have taken no oath to heal or mend your moronic asses, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

“You’re really doing it.” Mercer’s voice interrupts our brother-sister faux feud moment, and I look over to see him genuinely beaming at me.

My gloved hand rubs behind my neck. “Uh, yeah. I’ve always said I would.”

Being a nurse has been my dream since our first health class in fourth grade. Learning about the body, what ails it and makes it tick, and how to care for people on a medical and emotional level, I knew it was my calling long before I applied for college. But when I did, I made sure to seek out the best nursing program in the country, the one I wanted the most, and ended up getting in. I left for Washington, DC, the August after high school graduation, and haven’t regretted my decision since.

I know it’ll be a different story once I truly get into real-life nursing work and situations, that I’m not jaded through the experience, but so far, I’ve loved all my clinicals, even on my hard days, so …

“You did, didn’t you? That’s really awesome, Em.” Mercer’s compliment almost has rays of sunshine lighting up my chest, and I immediately feel dumb that his praise means so much to me.

So, I do what I usually do: turn someone’s compliment into a sarcastic response rather than accepting it.

“Don’t think that means I’ll bandage you two idiots up if you get hurt while competing for a prize either of you could easily buy on your next year’s salaries.”

While Mercer is destined for sports greatness, my brother is a tech genius. He’s already been offered a job from the company he interned with, a massive name in the space, and plans to move to Silicon Valley two weeks after graduation.

Charlie flips me the bird before jogging off to help another family, and Mom is wrangled by a couple looking for an ornament to commemorate their first baby being born right before the holiday.

Which only leaves Mercer and me. I’m sweating beneath my long johns, and it has nothing to do with the exertion I used to get the tree down. It does, however, have everything to do with my ex-boyfriend smirking at me.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been keeping tabs on me, Em.” His gaze lands on my lips, and I can’t help how my heart slams into my chest.

We never lacked chemistry, that’s for sure, and it clearly hasn’t dissipated in our time apart.

“It’s pretty hard not to. Aside from the fact that my brother is your best friend, it’s not like your name isn’t in the mouth of every sports commentator these days.” The tone I use isn’t even snarky, it’s factual.

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