Page 38 of Winter Break Up

“My brother is going to come looking for us at any moment.” Those hazel eyes go shifty.

I hook a finger under the collar of her sweatshirt and drag her closer. “Then you better kiss me before he does.”

Our lips meet in haste, a stolen moment of heat and secret that has my cock jumping with anticipation. The smell of the rec center, the same metal bleachers around us, and the whir of the smoothie machine as our mouths collide transports me back to a time when I thought I’d never lose her.

I try to blur it out, to block the emotions threatening to attach themselves to our fling just as Em attaches her mouth to mine. This is just for now, a good time had for all, a short period of satisfaction that shouldn’t lead to me getting my heart broken.

But with each stolen moment, I know I’m only going to crash harder. We’d been in love back then, and even with all this time apart, I never really stopped.

17

EMILY

“That’ll be twenty-five dollars, please. These angel ornaments are made by a local artist, aren’t they just beautiful?”

The customer hands me her credit card. “They are, I just had to have one when I spotted them on the display.”

Running it through our tablet payment setup, I wrap the ornament and bag it before handing it over the counter. “I hope you have a merry Christmas, thank you for shopping with us.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, dear. My husband and I have been coming to this farm from nearly an hour away since our kids were little and still lived at home. It’s just so nice to see it still remain in the family.”

My heart warms at her words. While my brother and I have other plans for our futures, and our parents have never once discouraged us from them or put pressure on us to come home and run the Christmas tree farm, real-life testimonials like this one make me want to settle close to home. The plan is to work at the hospital I am vying for by my university, but I always envision myself moving back to Queenwood at some point.

Someday, my parents won’t be able to run the farm themselves. It will fall to Charlie and me, or we’d have to sell it. But whenever I think of the holidays without this place, without working in the barn or helping families find the perfect pine, something just feels off.

“That’s so nice to hear, truly. It means so much that we can be a part of your tradition.” I beam at her and nearly start to well up with tears.

When everything feels like it is on this precipice of change, it’s nice to know that some constants will never shift in my life. This farm is one of them, if I have any say.

A bunch of customers mill around the barn, checking price tags or trying to pick out the special ornament they’ll place on their tree this year. Helping in the shop is one of my favorite things to do, it gives me such joy watching people purchase something I know will be passed down for generations to come.

The morning is winding down, and we’ll all break for lunch soon, with some of the seasonal staff grabbing lunch together and others going home. I’m not sure how we achieved it, but the break room at the back of the barn has become Mercer and my little oasis during that hour. No one seems to stick around to eat back there, thus giving us alone time, and we’ve used it to our advantage.

Aside from Mercer constantly trying to feel me up and me batting him away, even if it’s half-hearted, we spend our lunch hour talking and sitting way too close together. It feels like old times when he was my best friend and we could talk about anything and everything.

How quickly we’ve fallen back into place once we laid our grudge down. It’s almost scary how quick. Which only means the inevitable breaking off of things will send me into a tailspin, but it feels so good right now that I can’t stop.

“Close it down, Palmer. I’ve got a turkey and cranberry panini with your name on it.” Mercer holds up a bag as he passes the checkout counter.

“Oh my God, you went to the Burnt Bridge for me?” I sigh dreamily.

“You’d think I bought you a field of roses rather than a ten-dollar sandwich with the way you’re acting.”

I hit a bunch of keys on the register, lock the cashbox, and then pop open the swinging door to fall in step with him.

“I’d rather have the sandwich.”

“Which is why I drove twenty minutes to your favorite cafe to get it.” The way he smiles at me makes it feel like the full warmth of the sun is blazing on my face.

The deeper we get into this, the more I am sure I’ll have to dig myself out, broken heart and all, when he leaves. I may have been the one to propose we keep this simple, have a fling, but it doesn’t mean I don’t kick myself for it daily. Most of me is terrified to actually have the conversation, to admit that I want a second chance—a full, real, second chance at our relationship. I can’t tell Mercer that I want to do the long-distance no matter how much I miss him, because what if he rejects me?

Yes, he’s been downright pissed and held a grudge about our breakup. But with where he is at in life right now, he can’t possibly want his high school sweetheart tying him down. This arrangement feels more feasible, which is why I brokered it.

Except now, as my heart beats for him and only him, and all I want to do is spend every moment of the day talking to or looking at or fucking him, I regret asking him to be such a fleeting thing. On the nights we don’t spend together, which is so rare now that our time is limited, I stare at the ceiling and wonder what I’ll do when we separate once more.

From the moment I saw Mercer on that tree farm, everything fell back into place like we’d never been apart. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be when you find your one person: easy, effortless, like blinking or breathing. Everything with Mercer is just common sense.

My last breakup sent me into a spiral, but it wasn’t because of the man I lost. This time? These few weeks of winter break with Mercer feel so much more impactful than that entire relationship and subsequent ending. Losing him would wreck me.

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