Once Again In Christmas Falls (Return To Christmas Falls Book 3)

by Becky Monson

  I watched the water as it fell into the pool. The same journey it always took, moving out of the pool and feeding into the river that went through Christmas Falls. At least there was movement there and not a holding pattern, like with my life. Perhaps that was my problem. Maybe I’d been stuck in a holding pattern for too long, living in the same place, staying in the same kind of job.

  Maybe I needed to mix things up—to do something new. Perhaps I could try a new career or something. Maybe move into a bigger apartment and find a roommate. Maybe I could join an online dating site. Okay, probably not that. But I could do something different. I could get myself out of the holding pattern I was in. Maybe I just needed a change.

  ~*~

  “London!” Linda Broll, Andy’s mom, exclaimed as she opened the door. I was standing at the doorstep feeling all kinds of unexplained nerves. What was going on with me? Maybe it was because I had just seen my old house and now Andy’s, and there were so many memories here.

  “Hi, Mrs. Broll—”

  “Oh, call me Linda,” she said. “We’re all adults now.”

  “Okay, Linda,” I stepped into the Broll home, a place where I had spent a lot of time in my youth, and into Linda’s arms for a hug. She looked the same as I remembered her. She had the same hairstyle—short bob, stacked in the back—and she wore basically the same style of clothes. She was apparently still sticking with the mom jeans.

  The house was the same too. A craftsman-style home with a wide front porch and heather-gray exterior with white trim and plantation shutters. The house I grew up in, the one next door, was similar on the outside, except the porch wrapped around the side of the house and it was painted white with dark gray accents. At least, that’s how it was when we lived there. The new tenants had painted it a lovely shade of sea-foam green.

  Before I got here, I had so badly wanted to see the inside of my old house—I had planned on asking Linda if there was any way, if she even knew the neighbors well enough. But once I saw it, and the sea-foam green color, I knew that looking inside would only serve to remind me that this was not my home anymore. It would never be my home again. I’d brought my camera, so I snapped a few pictures of it before knocking on the Brolls’ door.

  The inside of Andy’s house was basically the same as it was before, except for a few minor decor changes. The big family picture that always hung over the fireplace in the formal living room was still there, only updated. I couldn’t get over how grown up Andy’s brother, Nick, looked in the picture. There they were—the four of them, standing in front of a background of beautiful green pine trees, dressed in winter clothes, snow all around them. I felt envious that the Brolls still had this kind of family, this kind of house.

  “Let me look at you,” Linda said, standing back and looking me over. “You know, you don’t look different at all. You look like the same old London to me.”

  I knitted my eyebrows together. “I do?” This was a first for this trip . . . and also sounded a little fishy.

  “Oh, definitely,” she said, but there was something unconvincing in her tone.

  “Mom,” I heard Andy say from somewhere in the house. I could hear his light footfalls on the hardwood floor as he made his way to the entryway where we were.

  We smiled at each other as he approached, my heart doing that weird thing it had been doing lately. But then I was taken aback when he got closer—something looked off, and it took me a moment to place it. Andy wasn’t wearing his glasses. The black-rimmed frames were gone. He looked so different without them. More grown-up.

  “Sorry, London,” Andy said, giving his mom a look.

  “What? You told me to tell her she looked the same.” She motioned with her hand at me and then in a loud whisper said, “She doesn’t, by the way. I barely recognized her.”

  “Mom,” Andy chastised her with his tone.

  “Well, she doesn’t,” she repeated.

  I chuckled quietly, my shoulders shaking as I did. “It’s okay,” I said to Andy. “Thanks for trying.”

  “You look wonderful, though,” Linda said. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

  “Thank you,” I said, instinctively reaching up and tugging on a lock of it.

  “Is that Miss London I hear?” Andy’s dad said as he came out of the office that was just behind us. Bart Broll was a tall man, he and Andy were about the same height, but Bart’s build was much brawnier than Andy. He was a big man, broad shoulders, thick forearms, and had always been in pretty good shape back when we were neighbors. Now there appeared to be the beginnings of a beer belly. He also hadn’t changed his style; he wore a plaid button-down shirt and jeans.

  “Now, London, don’t you look exactly the same as the last time we saw you. I mean, exactly,” he said, giving me a wink.

  “Never mind, Dad,” Andy said with an eye roll. He shook his head at his parents, “You both are the worst actors ever.”

  “Well maybe if you’d given us some warning that London had turned into this gorgeous young lady,” his father said, putting an arm around me and giving me a side hug.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Broll,” I said, feeling my heart warm just being with this family again.

  “Ah, call me Bart, darlin’,” he said.

  We moved the party to the family room where the Christmas tree was all set up and matching decor was on practically every surface. Linda Broll did not skimp on the Christmas decorations. I think it was against the law in Christmas Falls to be a minimalist when it came to decorating. And nothing had changed as far as that was concerned.

  Andy’s parents asked me a ton of questions about my family and how they were doing. My stomach took a turn when I saw their expressions after I told them about my parents’ impending divorce. I wasn’t even sure I should be talking about it. I had only found out five days ago myself. Part of me hoped they would figure it out—maybe work it out.

  I found myself feeling rather melancholy when I realized that I might no longer have what Andy had. Not that I ever did—my family had never been as close as Andy’s. My parents were definitely never as lovey-dovey as his. Bart and Linda’s PDA had been a constant bane of Andy’s existence growing up. I loved to tease him about it. Now, though, I appreciated that as we sat there talking, Bart had his arm around Linda, and she had her hand on his leg.

  After catching up for a while, Linda excused herself to go finish making dinner and Andy and I made our way upstairs to his bedroom.

  “LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN,” his mom yelled up at us as we went upstairs.

  I started laughing, covering my mouth so she couldn’t hear me, because the look on Andy’s face was killing me. He looked like he was going to strangle something. “Mom,” he said her name through gritted teeth.

  “YOU KNOW THE RULES,” she yelled.

  “I’m moving out next week,” he said quietly to me.

  “ANDREW ALAN BROLL, YOU WILL NOT MOVE OUT OF THIS HOUSE UNTIL AFTER CHRISTMAS!” she yelled up at him. “YOU PROMISED!”

  “How did she hear you?” I asked.

  “You forget, the woman has superpower hearing,” he said.

  We made our way to Andy’s room, and it was like being in a time capsule. It was exactly the same as the last time I was here. He still had a poster of a space shuttle on his wall (he was going to be a rocket scientist at one point and was obsessed with all things NASA). The telescope we used to look at the sky with was still in the same place near the window.

  I peered out his window and could see the adjacent window that was my old room. We had many a conversation hanging out of our windows. I remembered once we tried one of those tin can phones we saw on an old movie. The kind that had the string going from one end to the other, and supposedly you could hear each other through it. Andy was determined to make it work, but we could never figure it out.

  Andy plopped down on his full-size bed, lying with his arm propped underneath his head. He patted the spot next to him for me to join him. I lay down by him, feeling like
the last time I was on this bed, we fit much better than we did now. Since I was still the same height and basically the same weight I was when we graduated, the changes had clearly been on his part. It was a much different Andy I was lying next to. No longer the skinny, slightly awkward boy he used to be. Now he had filled out in all the right places—broader shoulders, muscular arms. He was definitely cute in high school, but he had morphed into quite the hottie. But I wasn’t going to think about that.

  Being here with him now, new Andy and all that he had become, lying on his bed with him, staring up at the slanted ceiling, I was instantly taken back. I spent so much time in Andy’s room—with the door open, as was the rule in the Broll house and apparently still was. So many hours here talking, teasing, and laughing.

  “This is nice,” Andy said. “Like old times, right?”

  “Yeah, definitely,” I said, turning my head toward him. “Okay, what gives?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your glasses?”

  “What do you mean?” he said, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

  “I mean, where’d they go?”

  He angled his head toward me just slightly. “I wear contacts sometimes,” he said.

  “Since when?” I had never seen him in anything but those black-rimmed glasses.

  “Since . . . yesterday.”

  That got me to lift myself up on my elbow so I could get a better look at his face. “Is that why your eyes were all red last night?”

  “Maybe,” he said, the tips of his ears turning pink.

  “Why are you wearing contacts now?”

  He shrugged. “I just wanted to try them out.”

  “Well, I don’t like them,” I said, laying my head back down next to him.

  “You don’t?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “I like the glasses better.”

  He chuckled to himself.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “It’s just that Piper said you’d prefer the glasses.”

  I smiled. She still knew me after all these years. I couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow. Andy had set us up to meet at Holly’s Café in the morning.

  “It’s weird being here,” I said. “It’s like I’ve gone back in time.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird to have you here in my bed again,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice.

  I whacked him lightly on the thigh with the back of my hand. “You make me sound like I was some kind of tramp.”

  He laughed. “Like anything would have ever happened in this room with my mom around.”

  “Good point,” I said.

  We were silent again, my mind wandering. I don’t know if it was the suggestive joke he’d made or just being back here again, but I found my mind traveling off into a daydream. One where the door to his room was actually shut for once, and high school me and Andy were kissing on this bed.

  Now why would my crazy brain even go there? But there, it went. It must have been that stupid dream I had last night. I could picture it like it had really happened. Looking like we did back in high school, our limbs intertwined as we made out. Suddenly I could feel my heart rate speed up and Andy seemed much too close. What the heck was going on with me? It was like I had no control of my body and its reactions lately.

  “You okay?” Andy asked, sensing my sudden discomfort as I tried to inch myself away and put more space between us.

  “Totally,” I said, practically choking out the word.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  There was no way in hell I was going to tell him I’d just conjured up thoughts of him and me making out back when we were teenagers, which never even happened. These were new thoughts. I’d never had these thoughts in high school. At least I don’t think I did.

  “Just that it’s nice to be back,” I finally said, only half lying.

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  We kept our eyes on the ceiling as Andy moved his hand slightly closer to mine, lightly rubbing his pinky finger against mine, coaxing me to turn my hand toward his. And when I did, he weaved his fingers through mine. Heat traveled up the length of my arm, up my neck, and to my face. Butterflies swirled in my stomach and my heart rate, which was already running at a fairly fast pace, picked up even more speed.

  Why was I reacting this way? This was not the first time I had lain next to Andy on his bed, and it was definitely not the first time he had held my hand this way—this was our thing. Our Andy and London thing. This was something we always did. Now I was back here and it suddenly felt all different, like the time and distance between us had changed things. At least for me it seemed to have changed. The marquee in my head kept flashing “Andy! Andy! Andy!”

  This was not good. Not good at all. I had been trying to push the thoughts out, but there was no denying it anymore. I had . . . or rather, I was having more than just friendly feelings for Andy. The ruin-your-friendship kind of feelings. And I had just gotten his friendship back. I was feeling all sorts of things right now: a mix of terror, mortification, and a dash of have-I-lost-my-mind added in for good measure.

  One thing was sure, there was nothing I could do about it. Not when I was only here temporarily. Even if I tried and was subsequently rejected (as was most likely going to be the case), I might ruin this entire trip—what had been, thus far, a wonderful time, all because of Andy. If I took him out of the scenario, this trip would have been awful—minus my visit with Miss Anna Cate—and I would have been on a plane back to San Francisco days ago.

  This was so not good.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I met Piper Wyatt the first day of fifth grade when we lined up for recess. We were Walsh and Wyatt, respectively. And it was friend at first sight. We immediately bonded over our hatred of school lunches and the drooling, idiot boys that were in our class that year. We both had long dark brown hair and matching tween attitudes. Well, I suspected her attitude was only a reflection of mine. I was the true tween of the two of us. Piper was just . . . kind. Everyone loved her and she seemed to love everyone, minus the drooling boys in our class. But boy, did they love her. Piper wasn’t just cute, with her perfect nose and striking blue eyes. Even at the age of ten, it was obvious she was going to be stunning. I, on the other hand, had started at nine what was going to be a very long ugly phase.

  It took a while before we crossed over from friends only at school to friends that hung out after school. But when we did, we bonded even more. We had so much in common and laughed at all the same things. Even better was the fact that Andy could hang out with us and it was no big deal. Except when we wanted to talk about girl stuff. Then Andy would act like he was annoyed. But I think he actually enjoyed it, having no sisters of his own.

  Piper was my confidant, my bestie. She just got me—even when I did the whole goth thing, she was all for it, telling me I looked great in anything I wore. She was my biggest cheerleader and the person I trusted most in the world.

  Which is why it felt wrong that I was so full of nerves as I got ready to meet up with her the next morning. It was sad that I was feeling so edgy, but I knew it was because of what had happened the last time I saw her. Looking back, with eight years of maturity, it seemed ridiculous to end a friendship over something so trivial.

  We were to meet at Holly’s Café around ten-thirty, and I had been awake for at least three hours. My mind was going a mile a minute, thinking about seeing Piper again after all these years and coming up with a myriad of scenarios of what could happen. In some daydreams, tears were shed as we hugged each other, and in others we ended up throwing our drinks in each other’s faces. My mind whirled, dancing from one extreme to the next, preventing me from falling back to sleep.

  I also couldn’t get Andy out of my head. My brain kept coming up with the most ridiculous ideas. I’d come up with reasons why it would never work, to get my mind and heart to see reason. The top of that list being my sudden feelings were probably not reciprocated. Then, of course, on the off chance that they were
, there was also the fact that I was leaving the day after Christmas, and I lived on the other side of the country. But then I’d find myself wistfully dreaming of throwing caution to the wind and making out with Andy by the falls. I’d then push that aside by picturing him with the redheaded police officer . . . whatever her name was. And then I wanted to punch things.

  I’d stopped by Miss Anna Cate’s last night after dinner at Andy’s parents’ house. I wanted to see how she was and talk to her, maybe get her opinion on the whole thing. She had been someone I’d confided in about this kind of stuff back in the day, and she always had the best advice. But when I got there, she was exhausted and looked worn out, and not long after she invited me in, she fell asleep on the couch. I putted around her place, too wound up to sit, cleaning up the kitchen and dusting some of the living room before covering her with a big blanket and letting myself out the door.

  I really needed someone to talk to—besides Andy, obviously. It was all very frustrating. In the end, I figured out on my own that it was probably best for me to push any thoughts of Andy and romance out of my head and focus on the friendship that I had just gotten back. Why would I ever want to jeopardize that?

  I really had to focus on that because Andy was coming with us today since it was his idea, and also, I figured it would be good to have a third party. Not that I really expected Piper and me to throw drinks in each other’s faces, but you never knew. We might both have PMS. I’m pretty sure I didn’t, but I was never any good at keeping track of all that.

  “Hey gorgeous,” Andy said as I met him outside the cottage. He gave me a quick peck on the check. My heart started sputtering at the sight of him, and his compliment didn’t help matters, causing the butterflies to start fluttering around. This was not going to work.