Chapter 21
I do dream of Max.
Of his arms around me and his breath on my neck as our chests rise and fall at the same time. It’s peaceful and warm. The dream version of me snuggles down farther into his arms, and dream Max tenses.
When my eyes open, sunlight is streaming in through the windows and washing out the wool rug. Everything smells like Max. Dreams are so strange.
I sit up and try to roll the crick out of my neck.
“Hey.” The noise startles me, and I turn to see him standing there with a cup of coffee in his hand. His hair is mussed, like he’s just woken up. It makes him look soft. “I thought you were up.”
He hands the mug to me as he takes a seat on the coffee table. Last night, it was filled with our snacks, and now it’s empty. I wonder if Grandee cleaned up after us.
I mumble a thanks.
“Merry Christmas,” he tells me.
“Is this coffee my present?” My voice is still thick from my dreams, and I frown.
“Sure.” His face changes like he’s confused, and then he shakes his head. “Déjà vu. Again.”
I almost ask, trying to find the question in my mind, but Grandee comes to stand next to Max, and she shakes her head as she puts a hand on his shoulder. “Told you she’d sleep the morning away if she could.”
He laughs and says, “There are waffles in the kitchen.”
Now I’m confused. “You cooked waffles?” I ask Grandee, the same woman whose breakfast every morning is black coffee and high blood pressure meds.
“Max made them,” she says, walking out of the room. “From scratch,” she adds before she rounds the corner.
“You cooked.”
“Barely.”
“He made his own syrup!” Grandee yells from the kitchen.
“Not syrup, just berries and sugar and an orange. It’s not hard.”
“I didn’t know you cook,” I tell him, as if this new fact suddenly changes everything about Max for me.
He shrugs. “Why would you?”
Why would I?
Sometimes I forget I don’t really know Max, this version of him. Maybe he did cook before, but I wouldn’t have known that. We were hardly friends, and this Max isn’t someone I’ve known for very long.
Grandee comes out of the kitchen holding a spatula. “Linden called this morning to say she’ll be here this afternoon with her friends.”
“Here?” I point at the ground like anyone would be confused about where here is.
“Apparently she misses us,” Grandee answers simply.
Something changes in Max’s face, his features going hard. “You should eat before everyone else gets here.”
The realization that the others will be here today makes every second that ticks on the clock feel heavy.
As we get ready for the day, I can’t help but think about Max. He’s different here, which has a knot of worry growing in the pit of my stomach. Did I change things again?
My mother picks up on the first ring. Linden texts that she’s on her way. Grandee seems to be the same. I let out a deep breath of relief.
In the kitchen, bright morning light washes over Max. He watches me take my first bite, and when I smile, he does, too. I eat bite after bite of fluffy, buttery waffles and berry syrup while he scrolls on his phone. I smack my lips together; Max looks up, his eyes moving to my mouth.
Something about him makes me feel … quiet. My mind feels like it’s stopped trying to catch up with everything happening. I could imagine a thousand soft mornings like this. And that’s the problem with Max.
He makes me feel things that I can’t remember ever feeling with anyone. And never around him. “Are we friends?” I’m not sure why I ask it. Like so many things I say, it just pops out.
He studies me, and I’m considering taking it back when he says, “Are we?”
Are we?
I don’t know what to say to this. Before, I would have never called Max Emerson my friend. He hated me, and I hated him right back. We aren’t enemies, but friends?
“I—”
“Nieve!” Linden is running into the house, throwing her arms around Grandee and offering her pieces of evergreen that she scavenged from her walks in the woods at Carter’s. She’s followed soon after by Benji.
And Carter.
He’s smiling and laughing when I see him. My heart fissures inside my chest, and my body tries to move toward him. Like muscle memory.
The past week with just Max at school has made me forget how Carter makes me feel. Like a girl with a crush.
“What’d you two do while we were gone? Homework?” He laughs as he claps Max on the shoulder, but Max doesn’t.
Because Max is looking at me. There is a question on his face, and I want to ask him what he’s thinking.
If it’s obvious how I feel about Carter. Even when I don’t want to.
But moments later, we are swept up into the chaos of Grandee cooking. Everyone has a job. We make juicy turkey, buttered potatoes, and roasted vegetables covered in garlic. And treats. Iced sweet rolls, cookies shaped like trees, pies dusted with sugar.
I’m peeling potatoes when Linden comes to stand next to me. “I am so glad we’re finally back.”
“It wasn’t fun?”
“It was great. But…” She glances over her shoulder to where Benji is talking with Grandee about basting. “I wanted to kill Damian and Ava.”
I search my mind for Damian and Ava before remembering the boy Benji had a crush on all year who strung him along for most of it. Benji was hanging with them both at the Halloween party.
“They’re so judgy and negative all the time.” She gives me a smile. “I’m glad to be back here with you.”
“I’m glad to be with you, too.” I think about last night and how she missed our tradition. But then, if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten to spend it with Max. “Everything else was okay, though?”
Her eyes move to Carter, only for the briefest of seconds, but it’s enough to make my stomach swirl with acidic jealousy. “Yep.”
We pack all the food into disposable aluminum pans and cover them with foil and kitchen towels to make sure they don’t spill.
And then we load them into Grandee’s truck. Everyone follows her in Linden’s car to the local shelter. Grandee pulls around back, and another volunteer opens a side door for us.
We hand the pans to the man and the two other people he has helping him.
Serving food with a smile makes the muscles on my face ache. Grandee for her part never smiles, Carter looks like he was made to do this, but Max … He hands me bottles of water and asks if I need to take a break when he catches me rubbing at my neck.
“I probably shouldn’t have slept on the couch last night.”
His eyes move to my mouth, and I watch his chest inflate with a deep breath. For some reason, it reminds me of my dream.
When every person has been served, we head back to the house and Grandee makes us all peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Our tradition. Benji looks confused, Carter takes three, but Max only laughs.
While we eat, Max tells the boys, “Nieve had never seen Elf.”
I don’t miss the way his voice sounds familiar. Kind, even. Teasing me like a friend would.
Carter is appalled. “How is that possible?”
Linden rolls her eyes. “We have a tradition where we watch It’s a Wonderful Life. It’s better than Elf.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never seen Elf,” Benji grumbles. “And that’s a weird tradition.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a Christmas movie on Christmas Eve. It’s the most normal thing ever.”
“Yeah, and that’s why it’s weird,” Benji tells Linden, pointing his PB&J at her. “You two are the least normal people I know.”
He means it as a compliment, but his words have me looking around our small living room. At the dried leaves and twigs wrapped in yarn that hang from the rafters. The wool that is tied to everything we own. The handmade rugs, blankets, and knickknacks.
“You don’t have any traditions?” Linden asks.
“We do.” Benji looks a little lost for a moment. “We jump into the pool after dinner. My whole family does it.”
“That’s weird,” Linden tells him.
“Isn’t the water freezing?” I ask.
“That’s the point. Like a cold plunge.”
“They’re right,” Carter adds. “That’s weird.” He chews and swallows. “We should do it.”
“Do what?” Linden asks him. “We don’t have a pool.”
“You have a pond.”
“Yeah, and who knows what lives at the bottom of it,” Linden says.
“Nothing lives at the bottom of the pond,” Grandee calls from the other room. “And it’d be good for you to get some ice in your veins. Cool ya off.”
Linden looks at me, and I hate that she can feel my panic from here. I don’t want to go near the water.
“No, I don’t feel like it,” Linden says, leaning back.
“Come on,” Carter whines.
“No.”
Carter looks to me and Max. “Guys.”
But before I can speak, Linden steps in on my behalf. “She doesn’t want to go.”
“She can speak for herself,” Benji says. Almost gently.
And I appreciate it. I don’t need Linden to tell other people what I want.
“I didn’t say she couldn’t, but—”
“Let’s go.” I’m standing. I don’t know why I feel so strongly about this, but suddenly, I can’t stand the way Linden looks at me. As if I’m fragile now.
“Nieve.”
“What?” I ask as if I haven’t been weird about water recently.
And maybe that’s why I’m so quick to say yes. But it doesn’t take long for Carter to stand and demand that we all get up and head to the pond.
I smile at her and hope it looks confident instead of how I really feel. Terrified. It only takes her a second before she’s grinning back at me.
We follow him to the door like a parade of mischievous children. Sheep sleep on the porch, piled on blankets and against each other, but they barely stir as we make our way to the pond. Max’s gaze finds mine and something silent lives under his features, but I ignore it.
We stand on the small floating wooden dock. Frost has already started to gather at the edge of the pond, and our breaths puff out in foggy clouds.
Carter pulls off his shirt. “Come on, cowards!”
Linden is next, taking off her sweater over her head and shimmying out of her pants. Benji follows, and then Max, until it’s just me.
It’s so cold.
I can hear them laughing and joking.
But I’m staring at the water. Black. Cold. Still.
So different from the river.
It’s different.
It’s—