Page 26 of Mistletoe Detour

“You could, you know,” he encouraged gently. “Perhaps you should finally let someone in?”

“It’s not that simple, Dad.” I sighed, my thoughts swirling. “And with work, I just don’t have time for?—”

He interrupted, his tone laced with wisdom. “Trisha, remember to live a little, okay? Don’t bury yourself in work.”

I almost told him then about the job, the move, the whole upheaval waiting in the wings. But, knowing that sharing that news might cause a storm, I held back. Instead, I steered the conversation toward him. “You’re taking it easy, right? Keeping up with Dr. Siegler’s advice?”

“Of course,” he chuckled. “I’m sticking to the plan.”

Our talk shifted to holiday preparations. I felt a twinge of guilt for not having been there to help with the tree, the decorations. But he assured me he’d managed, pacing himself.

“You shouldn’t have had to do it alone,” I said, my voice tinged with regret.

“Trisha, it’s okay. You couldn’t control the weather. And it sounds like you needed this break, this... adventure.”

His voice had a knowing tone, and I realized he understood more than I gave him credit for. I’d enjoyed my time here, with Blaze, with his family. It was a different world, one I’d only ever imagined.

“I love our family, Dad,” I said firmly, wanting him to know that our small duo was more than enough.

He laughed, the sound warming my heart.

I thought of Blaze then, how, in all the chaos, being with him felt like a calm in the storm. But I couldn’t dwell on that now. Not when I was about to leave.

“Soon, it’ll be just us again,” Dad said, a note of anticipation in his voice.

“Can’t wait, Dad,” I replied, a smile in my voice. “I’m heading back in a minute. I’ll text you before I leave.”

“Drive safe when you do. And Trisha?”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas, Dad.” I hung up, feeling a blend of emotions. Homesickness, a sense of loss, and a surprising depth of affection for the people I was about to leave behind.

THIRTEEN

BLAZE

“I havea question that I’m dying to know the answer to,” Andrea said, her curiosity clear.

I stifled a sigh. I’d tried to find a polite way to escape Andrea’s company and rejoin Trisha, but each attempt had been thwarted.

“As a professor, do you have a lot of students who take your classes because of…” She hesitated, a blush coloring her cheeks, “You know, because you’re hot?”

Her forwardness left me speechless.

Dealing with Andrea was challenging. Had she been overly aggressive or outright rude, I would’ve felt justified in shutting it down immediately, making it clear that I wasn’t interested. But she wasn’t like that; she was the same friendly, outgoing person I had been crushing on throughout high school.

In truth, if Trisha hadn’t come into the picture, I might have played along with Andrea, maybe even indulged in a bit of harmless flirtation for old times’ sake. But Trisha changed everything. Despite the undefined nature of our relationship, and even though we had no plans to continue whatever this was after she left, I couldn’t, in good conscience, engage with Andrea on anything beyond a basic, courteous level. What I shared with Trisha, however fleeting, deserved that respect.

“Well, I’ve had a few students make inappropriate comments, but most are serious about their studies,” I replied diplomatically. “My classes are graduate-level, so students are generally more focused on their careers than socializing.”

“And Johns Hopkins isn’t really a party school, is it?” she prodded, trying to keep the conversation going.

“No, it’s not,” I said. “That’s one reason I wanted to go there in the first place.”

“That’s right,” Andrea said. “You were such a dedicated student, always hitting the books.”

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