Chapter 21 #2
“That’s because she’s not afraid to call me on my crap,” Dylan says, and when I look up, he’s watching me. There’s something warm in his eyes, something that doesn’t match the dismissive words from moments ago.
I don’t know what to make of it.
“Someone has to,” I manage to say, trying to keep my tone light.
The conversation shifts to other topics—Genna’s new relationship with Paul, Mr. Williamston’s plans for the New Year, the upcoming hockey schedule.
I participate enough to not seem rude, but my mind is elsewhere, trying to reconcile the Dylan who showed up at my door last night with the one sitting across from me now.
Every so often, I catch him looking at me, his expression thoughtful, almost yearning. But then someone will address him, and he’s back to being the Dylan everyone expects—confident, slightly cocky, always ready with a joke or a charming comment.
Which one is the real Dylan? The one who looked at me so tenderly as he fastened the bracelet around my wrist? Or the one who just laughed off the idea of us being together?
“Earth to Cheyenne.” Genna nudges me. “Mom’s asking if you want more coffee.”
“Oh, sorry,” I say, pushing my mug forward. “Yes, please.”
“You’re quiet this morning,” Mrs. Williamston observes as she refills my cup. “Everything okay?”
“Just tired,” I lie. “Stayed up too late wrapping presents.”
Something flickers across Dylan’s face—uncertainty, maybe. Or regret.
Before he can say anything, Mr. Williamston stands up, clapping his hands together. “Alright, who’s ready for presents?”
The moment breaks, and everyone starts clearing the table. I help carry dishes to the sink, moving on autopilot, my thoughts a jumbled mess. As we migrate to the living room, I feel Dylan behind me, close enough that I can smell his cologne.
“Hey,” he says softly, placing a hand on my arm to stop me. “You okay?”
I turn to face him, finding him closer than expected. “I’m fine. Why?”
“You seem...” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Different. Since last night.”
“Do I?” I challenge, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “I’m not the one acting different.”
His brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. We should go in. Your mom’s waiting.”
I move past him into the living room, taking a seat on the couch next to Genna, who gives me a questioning look that I pretend not to notice. Dylan follows a moment later, opting for a spot on the floor near the tree instead of beside me.
Mr. Williamston starts distributing gifts, and the room fills with the sounds of ripping paper and exclamations of delight.
I go through the motions, smiling at the thoughtful presents from the Williamstons, thanking them sincerely.
They’ve always treated me like part of the family, and their gifts reflect that—a beautiful scarf from Mrs. Williamston in exactly my style and a gift card to my favorite bookstore from Mr. Williamston.
Through it all, I’m acutely aware of Dylan. He’s quieter than usual, though he makes the appropriate noises of appreciation for his gifts. Every so often, I feel his eyes on me, but when I look up, he’s always focusing on something else.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Then again. And again.
I pull it out discreetly, expecting some holiday wishes from friends or maybe my mother calling from Europe. Instead, I see Garrett’s name, and my stomach drops.
Garrett: Merry Christmas, Chey. Missing you today.
And then:
Garrett: Remember last Christmas? I’ve been thinking about it all morning.
And finally:
Garrett: I made a mistake. I want you back.
I stare at the messages, feeling like I’ve been doused in cold water. Garrett wants me back? After everything he said when he ended things? After weeks of silence?
I glance up to find Dylan watching me. When our eyes meet, he doesn’t look away this time. There’s a question in his gaze, maybe even concern.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, trying to refocus on the gift exchange. But my mind is spinning. Garrett’s timing couldn’t be worse—or perhaps, from his perspective, better. Catch me when I’m confused, when I’m vulnerable.
Because I am confused. And vulnerable. The bracelet on my wrist feels heavier. A gift from a man who looks at me like I’m the only person in the room one moment, then dismisses any possibility of us being together the next. A man I’ve known for years but suddenly feel like I don’t know at all.
“Cheyenne?” Mrs. Williamston’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “This one’s for you, dear. From Dylan.”
She passes me a small, neatly wrapped package. Everyone’s watching now as I take it, my hands trembling slightly. He got me another gift? But why? I glance at Dylan, who looks almost nervous as he waits for me to open it.
The wrapping paper comes away to reveal a book—a beautiful leather-bound edition of my favorite novel, Pride and Prejudice. It’s the same one I pointed out in the bookstore window display while we were walking downtown. I didn’t think he was even listening that intently.
Inside the cover, he’s written an inscription:
Chey - Some things are worth more than they appear. Looking forward to finding out how this story ends. -Dylan
I look up at him, my heart in my throat. His eyes are fixed on me, his gaze intense and sincere in a way that makes my breath catch.
My phone buzzes again in my pocket, but I ignore it. Right now, in this moment, with Dylan looking at me like that, Garrett’s messages couldn’t matter less.
But as the gift exchange continues around us, doubt creeps back in.
What does Dylan really want?
What do I want?
And why does everything suddenly feel so complicated?