Christmas with You (The Summer Series Book 6)

by Amy Sparling

  “What’s wrong?” I say, ignoring the new text from Bay.

  Park turns the key in the ignition. “My truck won’t start.”

  “How is that possible? It’s like less than a year old.”

  He shrugs and tries again. The engine doesn’t even sound like it’s trying to start.

  “Are you out of gas?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “We have more than half a tank.”

  “Do you know what it could be?” I ask nervously.

  He shakes his head. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  TWO HOURS LATER, I’M about to go completely insane if I have to hear Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer one more time. We had to get the truck towed to the nearest dealer, and we’ve been waiting around for them to diagnose what’s wrong with it. The dealership is fairly small, with only a single row of five chairs in the waiting area. The coffee is gross, the whole place smells like Windex, and worst of all, they’re playing about twelve Christmas songs on repeat. The only time the music stops is when their own sales commercial comes on, advertising over and over again about their new low, low, Christmas prices. Ugh.

  I can tell Park is pissed, and I’m trying to stay upbeat for his sake. I hold his hand and lean against his shoulder while we sit here bored out of our minds. His foot keeps tapping on the floor and he sighs every few minutes.

  Finally, the main guy from the service department comes up to us. There’s a deep crease in his forehead and he’s frowning. This can’t be good, but I find myself hoping I’m wrong.

  “Bad news,” he says. “The computer is fried.”

  “What does that mean?” Park asks, sitting a little straighter.

  “It’s a massive malfunction in the computer. These damn new trucks these days run on the computer in the dash. If it breaks, the whole thing won’t work.”

  “So how long does it take to fix?” Park asks.

  The guy’s lips press together as he hesitates. “I’m afraid it can’t be fixed.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  The guy sits in an empty chair. “The manufacturer has authorized us to buy the truck back from you at ten percent over the value.”

  Park sighs again, running his hand down his face. “So I guess we’re buying a new truck today.”

  When my parents buy a new car, the process takes all day. They test drive and compare features and then haggle the price down forever. That’s not what happens this time. Park finds the same model truck he has now, but one year newer. Same color, same features. He demands that they fill out the paperwork and have us out of here in an hour. By some miracle, they get it all done in just over an hour. I guess paying cash for something makes the whole process go by quicker.

  “Your new truck is all ready,” our dealer, Sam, says. He’s a portly middle-aged man wearing a Santa Claus hat. “You can clean out your belongings from the old truck and then be on your way.”

  “Great,” Park says sarcastically. “Let’s go.”

  They’ve towed his worthless old truck to the back of the lot. We drive the new truck up to the old one to get our stuff, but it’s not in the bed of the truck anymore. Park opens the door and peers inside.

  “What the hell?” he says, closing it and opening the back door. “They must have brought our stuff inside.”

  He opens the glove box and takes everything out of it, and then takes his garage door opener, sunglasses, and the change from the cupholder.

  My stomach feels uneasy as we head back to the dealership to find our stuff. Something feels off. The salesman himself said we should go get our stuff. Surely he’d know if it was already taken out?

  Within a few minutes the truth becomes obvious. Someone has stolen our suitcases. Park demands to see the security footage, and we’re told they don’t have cameras that far back in the lot. My heart races as everything goes down. Park is pissed and demanding to file a report with the police. He’s demanding that the dealership pay us for what our stuff was worth. I’m standing here in shock, thinking about all those cute outfits I’d packed. My favorite pair of flats. Park’s Christmas present that’s wrapped in silver paper with a red bow and tucked into the corner of my suitcase. Is it really gone?

  The police come, and a report is filed. But our stuff is still missing. A few hours after we first arrived here, Park turns to me, his shoulders slumped, his features looking worn out.

  “I can’t believe we lost everything. I’m so sorry, baby.”

  I shrug, because I’m still trying to pretend like everything is okay. “I have my purse with me, so I have my phone, money, and wallet. And my Chapstick,” I say with a smile.

  The smile he returns to me is jaded. He pats his pocket. “I have my wallet and phone, too. So that’s good I guess. Could this trip get any worse?”

  “Shh,” I say, pulling him into a hug. “Our luck is already pretty bad lately. Don’t jinx it.”

  Chapter 7

  Eleven hours into driving all night, the new car smell isn’t so fun anymore. Park’s new truck has a few more features, and we’ve played with all of them, pushed every button, programmed the radio stations to the ones we listen to back at home. My extreme boredom from earlier has been replaced with a sadness as I watch Park drive for hours. He lost all of his clothes and his iPad, and whatever present he got me for Christmas is gone too. I try being lighthearted and happy, but it doesn’t take him out of his gloomy mood.

  “I’m so sorry you lost your stuff,” he says for the hundredth time.

  “Baby, it’s fine. It was mostly clothes. I can get more clothes. And your Christmas present wasn’t one of a kind or anything—I can replace that, too.”

  He reaches over and takes my hand. “I have some good news.” The barest hint of a smile touches his lips, and my stomach tightens. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that cute grin of his.

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re half an hour away from my parent’s house.”

  I check the time. It’s eleven at night, and I’d thought we were supposed to get a hotel tonight and then finish the drive tomorrow. “How are we here so early?”

  He shrugs. “I’ve been speeding.”

  I punch him playfully in the arm. He laughs. “It’s late, but they’ll still be awake. We can stay at their house tonight and not another stupid hotel.”

  Now a whole new kind of nervousness hits me. The last day has been spent dealing with a broken down truck, having our stuff stolen, and spending hours on the road. I kind of forgot about the whole reason I was nervous about this trip in the first place.

  “What are your parents like?” I ask, absentmindedly gnawing on the inside of my lip.

  “They’re okay,” he says.

  That doesn’t make me feel better.

  “My mom was a high school science teacher for a while but she quit about ten years ago. She says she’s retired, but she’s not old enough to be retired, so whatever. And my dad is a structural engineer. His job is boring.”

  “What about their personalities?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “They aren’t all lovey like Jace’s parents, who accept everyone into their family. Mine are a little boring, I guess. They don’t shower you with attention or anything, which I guess is why I moved out of there as soon as I could. But don’t worry. They’ll love you because I love you.” He gives me a tight-lipped smile. “And then we’ll get to go back home in Texas and forget all about them until the next holiday obligation.”

  I chuckle. “I guess I can handle that.”

  “Your parents are way nicer than mine,” he says. “I’m glad we live near them instead of in Cali.”

  I hold Park’s hand for the rest of the drive. He turns into a neighborhood that looks charmingly middle class, and my anxieties ramp up to insane levels. I try to take deep breaths, but it doesn’t work very well.

  “I wonder who’s here,” Park says, narrowing his eyebrows. He pulls up to a white house with dark shutters, stopping on the side of the road i
nstead of pulling into the driveway. There are three cars already parked there, and the last one is crooked, taking up the whole area so another car couldn’t park there if they wanted to.

  Park cuts the engine. “Ready?”

  “Never,” I say. “I hate meeting new people.”

  He smiles. “It’s okay. You’ll have me.”

  I feel even more awkward approaching someone’s house around midnight, but there are lights on, so I guess he was right about them being awake.

  Park doesn’t even knock. He just walks right in. “Hello!” he calls out. “Your favorite son is here!”

  “You’re my only son,” a man’s voice calls back. “You get that title by default.”

  A portly man with the same shade of hair as Park steps out into the living room. Besides the hair, I don’t see much resemblance, but he smiles and gives Park a quick hug. “This must be Becca,” he says, turning to me.

  Before I can say anything, a woman walks out holding a wine glass. She’s wearing a velour jacket over spandex workout pants. Her hair, dyed blonde with dark roots, is pulled up in a ponytail.

  “Look who’s here,” she says. I’m not sure if she’s saying it in a happy way or not. Her voice is kind of monotone. Maybe it’s the wine.

  Another person appears. He’s probably a little older than we are, with dark hair and a cocky grin that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Hey, cuz,” he says to Park.

  Park goes rigid, his hand tightening in mine. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

  Uh oh.

  Park’s mom makes his face like she can’t believe what he just said. “Travis is your cousin, Nolan. He’s here for Christmas.”

  It’s weird hearing Park be called by his first name. Technically Park is their last name, but that’s what he goes by. Park drops my hand and points toward his cousin.

  “He’s a fucking rapist. Why is he here?”

  “Dude, chill out okay?” Travis says. “I don’t know why you can’t just drop this.”

  “Fuck you,” Park snaps, then he turns his attention back to his parents. “You know my girlfriend is coming and yet you allow this pervert to be in the same house? What is wrong with both of you?”

  Park’s mom presses her lips together. “It is Christmas, son. You need to watch your mouth and be a little more friendly. Travis is family, and he has never been convicted of any crime.”

  “That doesn’t make him less of a rapist,” he says through clenched teeth. “Get out of my house,” he tells Travis.

  Travis rolls his eyes. “Dude, I’m not leaving. I was invited. You need to get over whatever rumors you’re still believing and stop causing a scene in front of your girlfriend.”

  Park looks at his mom. “He leaves, or I do.”

  “Nolan,” she snaps. “You’re being completely ridiculous!”

  Park snorts and shakes his head. “Wow. Okay. Choose the rapist over your own son. We’re leaving.”

  With that, he turns and storms toward the door. It takes me a second to register that I also need to leave. “Bye,” I say quickly, then I rush after him. My instincts almost make me say, nice to meet you, but I hold back. It definitely wasn’t nice meeting them.

  No one chases after us. No one calls out any apologies. In the truck, Park slams his door closed and starts the engine. “I should have known this was a bad idea from the start.”

  Chapter 8

  Park stares at the steering wheel as if it’s the thing that’s pissed him off.

  “What was that?” I ask softly.

  His jaw tightens and he exhales loudly. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that.” He takes another deep breath to calm himself. “My cousin was kicked out of UCLA for being repeatedly accused of taking advantage of drunk college girls. How he escaped jail, I’ll never know, but that bastard doesn’t deserve to walk free. And I’m sure as hell not having him around you. He should be castrated, not invited over for Christmas.”

  I swallow. “Does he usually visit your family for the holidays?”

  Park snorts. “No. But my aunt and uncle are better people because they kicked him out of their house. I guess my parents are more forgiving of a rapist. Good to know they choose criminals over their own son.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “Not me. Now I know where my parents stand. Screw them. I’m much better off in Texas.”

  I don’t want to say the next question on my mind. We sit in silence for a few minutes and then he looks over at me. “I’m sorry for all of this. I’m the one who organized this whole thing. I kept you from your parents and Bayleigh for Christmas just because I wanted to go to stupid California...”

  “Baby, don’t apologize. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” he says, shaking his head. “Your stuff was stolen. Your gift is gone, and you can’t be with your own family. This is all my fault.”

  “You’re my family too,” I say, touching his cheek. “I love you, and Christmas with you is all I need.”

  “Even if we’re in some stupid hotel?” he says with a sigh.

  I nod. “Even if we have to sleep in this truck, I’ll still be happy to be with you.”

  “You are too good for me,” he says with a grin. “Come on, let’s find a place to sleep.”

  The first few hotels we stop at tell us they’re booked solid for the night. Instead of continuing to drive around, we stop in the parking lot of a twenty four hour fast food place and look up hotels on our phone. Park calls twelve of them and they all tell us the same thing. No more rooms available. It’s Christmas Eve and people are all traveling to be with family.

  “I have half a mind to drive straight back home right now,” he says with a defeated sigh.

  I chuckle. “You’ve just driven twelve hours today. It’s another twenty five hours back home.”

  “Twenty if I speed,” he says with a wink.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Let’s find more places,” he says, yawning. Together, we find hotels on our phone and call them up looking for vacancies. I’m about to make another call when I catch sight of the time on the dash.

  “Oh my god, Park. It’s after three in the morning.”

  “Really?” he says, checking the clock. “Damn.”

  He yawns again. We’ve called so many hotels that we’re now looking for some that are at least thirty miles away. I’m worried that Park will be able to stay awake long enough to drive there. At this point, I just want to sleep. I don’t care where.

  “Hey, I have an idea...” I say.

  “What’s that?” Park says with another yawn.

  I point across the road to where there’s a little park with lots of shaded parking spaces. “Why don’t we park over there and sleep for a few hours.”

  “You want to sleep in the car?”

  I shrug and pull back the handle on the side of my passenger seat. The back lays all the way down, and I snuggle up, pulling Park’s jacket over me like a blanket. “Perfect.”

  He laughs. “It’s crazy, but I guess we can.”

  “It’s already three in the morning,” I say, unable to hold back my own yawn. “In a few hours, it’ll be daylight again and we can make a new plan from there.”

  Park pulls out of the parking lot and drives over to the park across the street. He chooses the spot to the far left under a metal awning. We are the only vehicle here.

  When he cuts the engine, he takes my jacket from the backseat and balls it up, making it into a pillow. “You’re amazing, you know that right?”

  I grin. “Trust me, I know.”

  Chapter 9

  When I wake up, the truck is moving. I blink away the last bits of my dream and sit up in my seat.

  “Good morning,” Park says cheerfully. “Hungry?” He nods to the center console where there’s two cups of McDonald’s coffee and a bag of food sitting there.

  “Damn, how long have I been asleep?” I say.

  He laug
hs. “More like, how much can you sleep through?” He winks at me and I look away because I can feel my cheeks blushing.

  I take a sip of coffee and grab a hash brown. “Where are we going?”

  “Well, it’s Christmas Eve so it’s going to suck, but we are headed to the mall.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “I figured we should get new clothes. The hotel will have shampoo and toothbrushes, but not clothes.”

  “Oh yay!” I say, lifting up my coffee cup. “You found us a hotel?”

  He nods, keeping his gaze focused on the road. “Yep.”

  “Wow, you’ve done a lot while I’ve been asleep.”

  “You we’re pretty cute all curled up with my jacket.”

  Again, I blush.

  We find a parking spot at the back of the mall’s large parking lot. I don’t know why so many people wait until the absolute last moment to buy gifts. Bayleigh and I always go shopping on December 1st, that way we can beat the crowds and enjoy our Christmas holiday. But ironically, today we are not here for presents. Park and I make our way through the crowds and try to pick out a few outfits as quickly as possible.

  In Maci’s, I find some cute winter pajamas with snowflakes on them, and I buy them and a pair of fuzzy slippers. Then I get a pair of jeans and a few shirts, as well as stock up on underwear at the Victoria’s Secret five for $25 rack.

  After an hour of shopping alone, Park and I meet in the food court and get some lunch. As we eat, I look around at all the beautiful California people. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but people seem prettier here than in Texas. It makes me wonder why Park could have ever left all this behind for me. Plain, boring, me.

  “What you thinking, Sosa?” Park says, biting into his pizza.

  He hasn’t called me Sosa in a while, and it reminds me of when we first started dating. I shrug, because I’m not about to tell him that I’m checking out all these hot girls and wondering how he ever chose me. “Nothing.”

  “Are you ready to go?” he asks when I’ve finished my salad.