After Christmas

by Anna Catherine Field

  Yeah, I think, pulling into The Dive parking lot, this is already off to a bad start.

  A giant inflatable Santa waves from the front porch and Christmas music blasts from the speakers. It’s cold out, the wind coming off the ocean brisk. I don’t see her truck in the parking lot. What if she bails? What if she changes her mind, or Miller talks her out of coming?

  A million insecurities run through my mind, each one worse than the one before. What’s happening to me? Julian Edge is not insecure, especially not when it comes to girls. Why does Collins unnerve me so much?

  I’m getting out of my car when her battered truck pulls in. My heart flip-flops and I wait, leaning against the car, pretending I’m not nervous.

  “Sorry,” she says, rushing out of the car. “Mom needed help planning her shopping list for the party this weekend, and everyone had a sudden interest in where I was going.”

  She stands before me and wow, she looks amazing in a fitted sweater and jeans. When we were kids we spent half the year in bathing suits, but now I’m used to seeing her in less form-fitting clothes, hoodies and T-shirts. It’s hard for me to process how much she’s changed—how she’s grown even more beautiful than when we were in school together.

  “What?” she says, glancing down. “Did Van spill something on me? He dropped a bowl of chili on the floor, and it splattered everywhere.”

  “No!” I blurt, too loud. I shake my head. “No, you just look really nice.”

  She looks up at me, green eyes clear and bright. “Oh, um, thanks. You look nice, too.”

  I don’t know if she means it, but I did try. I found the one nice pair of pants and shirt that I packed in my luggage.

  “You ready to go in?”

  “Yes,” she says with relief. “I’m starving. I forgot to eat this afternoon.”

  “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll share some of my hamburger.”

  She rolls her eyes, and I reach for the door, opening it for her. Warmth and noise greet us as we enter. The place is packed, like most nights, and we both know half the people inside.

  She stops short and turns around. I slam into her and see the panicked expression on her face.

  “What?”

  “Tillman’s working the bar.”

  I scan the room and see her brother. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, uh, I’m just surprised to see him. I didn’t realize he was working tonight.”

  The glint in her eye says that’s not the only reason. I spot a booth in the back, away from the bar. “Why don’t we sit over there. Away from the crowd.”

  She nods. “Good idea.”

  We squeeze through the throng of people, and more than once I find myself touching her lower back, guiding her to the booth. At least, I tell myself it’s to guide her. Really, I just can’t stop myself, from checking to see if this is real.

  “Jules, there you are…”

  The voice is like nails on a chalkboard.

  Shelby.

  She gives me a wide smile that only slightly falters when she notices Collins.

  “I was hoping you’d come tonight. It’s Christmas Trivia, and I need a partner.”

  I glance at Collins, who is suddenly very interested in our surroundings.

  “Sorry, Collins and I made a deal earlier today. She has to buy me dinner and be my partner for trivia.”

  Collins raises an eyebrow, and I flash her a grin.

  Shelby pouts and takes my hand. “Okay, but I need you to save a night just for me, you’re only in town for a few more days.”

  “Right, sure,” I say, easing my hand out of hers. “We’ll hang out soon.”

  Collins has already walked ahead, either disinterested or annoyed at me talking to Shelby. When I get to the table, she’s pulling off her coat.

  “I don’t think trivia is part of our deal.”

  “How about this; you play trivia with me, and I’ll buy my own milkshake.”

  Her eyes narrow. “How about I’ll play trivia with you, and tomorrow we tackle cleaning your bedroom.”

  I don’t respond right away. A week ago I would have flipped out at the suggestion to clean out my room, but tonight? All I can think about is how good Collins looks, and the idea of her being in my room. I can’t help but acknowledge how close we’ve become, or how much I trust her.

  “Deal,” I agree for the second time that day.

  She smiles in return, like she’s gotten the best of me, but when our knees bump under the table I know differently, I’m the one getting the best thing out of all of this.

  More time with her.

  12

  Collins

  “What much-reviled Christmas edible is known for its long shelf life?”

  “Oh, fruit cake,” Julian whispers in my ear. We’re huddled on the same side of the booth, sides touching, killing it in the game. Tillman is sitting at a little table on the stage, calling out the questions. When I walked up to submit our team, he stared at our names together for a moment longer than necessary but didn’t say anything else.

  “How many reindeer are featured in ‘T’was the Night Before Christmas?”

  “Nine?” I ask, running through the list.

  “Eight. No Rudolf in the story.”

  There’s a benefit to playing Christmas trivia with a boy whose mother loved the holiday. He knows all the answers.

  “What beverage company has been using Santa in their advertising since 1931?”

  “Coca-Cola,” we both say at the same time. We’re from Georgia. Coke is king.

  The round is over, and Julian runs up to submit our answers. From the booth I watch him hand the paper over to Tillman. The two talk for a minute, and my brother’s eyes flick in my direction more than once.

  Julian’s ears are tinted red when he comes back to the table. He slides across from me instead of next to me. I look across the room at my brother, who stares at me and shrugs.

  “What did he say to you?”

  He runs his hand through his hair. “He, uh, asked what we’re doing here together. I told him, and he asked why we we’re,” he makes hand quotes, “snuggled up together in the booth like a pair of teenagers.””

  “And what did you say?” I know my ears are now red too, but not with embarrassment. With anger. My brothers, no matter how much they disagree, are not allowed to interfere with my life.

  “Nothing. I just…I mumbled something about not wanting other people to hear our answers and ran back over here.” He grimaces. “Look, I’ve taken a punch from Tillman before. I don’t want to do it again, and I don’t want to make things awkward for you at home. Not when I’m not sure what this is.”

  At the word this, he gestures between us.

  Irritation boils under my skin. I lean over the table. “Let me tell you something, Julian Edge, ‘this’ is whatever we want it to be. ‘This’ is between us to figure out on our own time and our own terms. ‘This’ is none of my brother’s freaking business.”

  A small, lopsided smile tugs at his lips.

  I continue. “’This,’ at this very moment, is two people kicking butt at trivia. Tillman doesn’t get to say where you sit. I do.” I pat the seat next to mine.

  A second later he’s back by my side, knee bumping into mine. He laughs and mutters something under his breath.

  “What?” I snap, still irritated and shooting daggers at Tillman across the room. He has the good sense to duck his head.

  “The Fleetwood brothers have always been a force to reckon with, but you? You’re like your own hurricane, you know that?”

  His blue eyes blaze like pools of sapphire, and I feel myself falling into them.

  Under the table, his hand grazes mine. I don’t know if it’s an accident or not, and I startle at the connection. My heart skips a beat and warmth spreads down my limbs. Never, not with Toby or any other boy I’ve ever been interested in, has made me feel like this.

  A second later his hand touches mine again, and this time there’s no doubt
it’s not an accident, because his fingers seek mine, ultimately linking them together.

  Julian may think I’m a hurricane, but something tells me that if we pursue this and it goes wrong, I’m going to be the one that drowns.

  Despite my brother’s distraction, Julian and I easily win the game. The prize is a gift certificate for the Dive, which Julian gives to me since I bought dinner.

  “No way,” I tell him on the way out the door. “You’re the one that knew all the answers.”

  “Not all of them. You knew that one about A Christmas Story.”

  “How could you not know the neighbors were called the Bumpuses?”

  “My mother had her own idea of holiday classics, preferably black and white. That one was not in her regular rotation.”

  We’re out on the deck, our faces glowing from the lights strung from the building. Ever since Julian took my hand under the table, a current of electricity has been running through my limbs. I feel charged—electrified—every small touch or graze of his hand makes it worse.

  “We make a pretty good team,” I admit. “I think Shelby was mad they lost so badly.”

  Wind blows my hair and he reaches out, tucking it behind my ear.

  Everything feels so surreal.

  “I have one last trivia question for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “What’s the name of the Christmas decoration that’s really a parasitic plant?”

  I frown. “A poinsettia?”

  His eyes dart up, over our heads. I follow his gaze and see a spring of dried greenery hanging from the awning. Mistletoe.

  My heart lurches into my throat and my palms start to sweat. Julian’s no slacker. He’s kissed and been kissed, and this? Positioning me here? That’s the move of a pro. I should care, but I don’t, because his hair is glowing from the lights, and his cheeks are red from the cold.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asks, which makes my heart actually skip a beat.

  “Yes,” I say, voice quiet.

  He smiles and looks down at me with those clear blue eyes, before gently touching my neck and bending toward me. I close my eyes and feel the spark when his lips brush against mine. They’re soft and warm, igniting heat throughout my body.

  “That was…”

  A mistake?

  A terrible idea?

  Like kissing your sister?

  I wait for the axe to fall.

  “…worth the wait.”

  Relief, agreement, satisfaction…all those emotions roll through me. I place a hand on his chest, curling my fingers in his shirt. I tug him to me, and he kisses me again, still slow, but more committed, deepening the kiss with every move of his lips.

  The door opens behind us, and we break apart. It’s just a few people leaving the restaurant, heading to the parking lot. Once they’re gone I look up at Julian’s face, trying to figure out what’s going on here.

  “What is this, Jules?” I ask, feeling weak in the knees.

  “I don’t know.” His hand is still cupping my cheek. “But I know I don’t want you to think about me like I’m one of your brothers, and I don’t want to be like Miller and miss out on my chance.” He swallows. “I know you won’t still be around when I get back. Someone smarter, and braver than me will claim your heart. I can’t risk that. Not again.”

  Again? This has happened before?

  “I don’t think of you as a brother,” I confess. “Not at all.”

  “Thank goodness, because you shouldn’t kiss your brother like that.”

  We both laugh, mine a release of all the emotions I’ve been holding in, and it’s probably why I do what I do next. It’s stupid. Incredibly stupid. He’s leaving after Christmas and probably never coming back, but it’s Julian Edge, the boy I’ve liked—probably loved—since forever. Which is why despite all my reservations, I push up on my toes, and kiss him once again because I can’t risk not taking the chance either.

  13

  Julian

  I’ve got a stack of tuna in my hands when Miller intercepts me the next morning on the porch. Without a word, he hands me a hot cup of coffee, takes the cans from me, and leaves them on his front porch.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?” I ask, as if I don’t have a suspicion.

  “You and I are going to the dump.”

  There’s an underlying message in the sentence. I can see it in the set of his jaw.

  We’re going to talk about Collins.

  There’s no way to avoid this conversation, and kissing Collins on the front deck of The Dive was almost like writing it on one of those banners and attaching it to the back of an airplanes that they fly over the shore in the summer. We’d announced it to the world—or at least to the entire population of Haven Island.

  So I’m not surprised when I get in the passenger seat of Tillman’s truck, the back filled with garbage from the house, when Miller point-blank says. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I kissed Collins.”

  “Yeah, I heard.” His hands grip the steering wheel. “Dude, why are you kissing my sister?”

  A wave of emotions rolls inside me. Guilt. Defensiveness. Arrogance. Fear. “I like her,” I admit, deciding to just tell the truth. One he already knows.

  “You’ve liked her since you were ten years old, Julian. You had plenty of opportunity to make a move on her before.”

  I snort.

  “What?”

  “You think I had opportunity? When? While she was dating Toby? Or maybe during that phase where she didn’t have three over-protective brothers? Or was it during the time she only looked at me like I was her brother’s annoying best friend.” I look down at my hands. “I like her, Miller, and for the first time, it seems like she likes me back.”

  “Well, your timing is crap.” Miller stares at the road ahead. It’s early and not many people are out. We take the bridge over the marsh toward the dump—the sun rising bright to the east.

  “I agree, it’s not the best timing, but we’re not kids anymore. People have lives and are in complicated relationships all the time.”

  “Collins doesn’t need complications.” His jaw tenses. “You can’t hurt her, Jules.”

  “I don’t plan on it.”

  “Really?” he glances my way. “So when you leave, sell the house, and move back to school, that’s not going to hurt?”

  The truth is, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. When I first got down here, I figured I wouldn’t come back. I was glad I wouldn’t have to come back. But being here, seeing the Fleetwoods and Molly. Going to The Dive, the ice rink…spending time with Collins…it’s made me realize I’m not sure I really do want to leave here forever.

  “We can make this work.”

  “What if you can’t? What if this is just you looking for some way to feel better during all this? I understand you’re grieving. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, but so does Collins. She loves hard, Julian. Always has.”

  He doesn’t need to tell me this. I was there the day the social worker arrived with Collins. Her hair up in messy pigtails, and she wore a new, just-from-the-store sundress. Her eyes were huge, green like the grass, worried and scared. Miller and I were involved in a drawn-out Star Wars battle—our current obsession. Miller stopped mid-Clone attack and dropped his light saber. He walked across the yard and gave her a hug. Even then, she looked so small and tiny next to him—next to all of them. She latched onto Miller with his easy grin, right away, and from then on, if I liked it or not, she was one of us.

  “I’m not going to hurt her, Miller. I promise.”

  “I know you’re not,” he says, turning onto the road that leads to the dump. “Because if you do, I’m going to kill you.”

  It’s the last thing he says about it. It’s the only thing he needs to say about it. I know he doesn’t mean it literally, but if Collins is hurt in this, I’ll pay. He pulls up the truck and we get out in the cold and start hauling out the junk from the house.

  As w
e work, I think about what he said—the consequences of screwing it up—it should scare me off, but I’m not.

  If anything, I’m more determined than ever.

  14

  Collins

  A random stack of tuna cans, a missing truck, and both Miller and Julian being gone before sunrise are three solid clues that something’s afoot.

  I feed the cats alone and head to the Sugar Bowl for coffee and biscuits. I figure wherever Miller took Julian didn’t involve food. I hoped it also didn’t involve fists.

  My brothers are protective—we’re all protective of one another—we’re like the cats I take care of. A mismatch of feral siblings. Kissing Julian on the deck last night probably wasn’t the best idea, although I woke up still feeling the tingle on my lips.

  It was the best worst idea ever.

  “I’m headed upstairs,” I tell my mom and Molly as they continue to sort the kitchen. The sale starts Monday, and there’s still a lot to do. “Let Julian know when he gets back, okay?”

  Molly glances up from the junk drawer she’s working through. “What room are you doing today?”

  I take sip of my mocha mint. “His bedroom.”

  She blinks. “He’s letting you help him clean the bedroom?”

  “We made a deal last night.” A warm heat expands across my neck, thinking about that trivia game and where it led. “I played trivia with him—he agreed to clean his room.”

  Molly nods, impressed. “You definitely have a way with my brother, Collins, we couldn’t do this without you.”

  “Col,” my mom says, focused on her notepad. “Remember, we’re having people over on Saturday—you know, for the neighborhood cookie party. I may need your help with that later.”

  The cookie party is one of my favorite traditions. Each family on Officer’s Row brings dozens of cookies to share, we swap, tell stories about living on the Row and maintain the bond of our little community.

  “Molly,” Mom says, “if you feel like you can’t bake, that’s fine. You and Julian come on over.”