Chapter 22
Addison
Christmas is one of my favorite holidays. Everyone comes to the Big House, we open presents, eat a big breakfast, watch movies, eat some more, and just hang out.
And Mason and Ella are home this year; last year they both had to work.
I get downstairs to find my parents sitting on the couch holding steaming hot cups of coffee and watching A Christmas Story. The smell of my mom’s egg casserole in the oven fills the house, and the flurries of snow outside are accumulating on the nine inches we already have.
“Merry Christmas,” Mom tells me.
“Merry Christmas.” I smile and plop down beside Cody on the other couch.
“Merry Christmas, little one,” Cody teases and forces me into a hug against his rock-hard chest.
“What do you have on? A shield?”
“What?”
“Your chest is like a concrete wall.”
He pats himself. “I’ve been working out more.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you have.”
He wasn’t always into working out; just over the last few years he’s really been into keeping himself fit.
It was his coping mechanism after his breakup.
Instead of turning to booze or nicotine, he started eating better, running, and lifting weights.
But good Lord, he can’t possibly get any more muscular.
His biceps are as big as watermelons. One flex of his muscles and I wouldn’t be surprised if his shirt snapped.
“You look thrilled to be watching this movie,” I point out.
He glares at me. “Mom didn’t wanna watch Die Hard.”
“I said the boys can watch that while I’m making dinner.”
“It’s not a Christmas movie,” I say.
“Yes it is. It takes place on Christmas Eve,” he’s quick to say, and I laugh.
“Santa’s here,” Mason’s voice announces as he enters the room wearing very bright red-and-green pajama pants and a shirt to match. He’s got an armful of presents in tow.
“Holy crap, turn the lights off. Do they glow in the dark?” Cody teases.
I laugh. “They do hurt my eyes a little.”
“You can laugh all you want, but this is all they had left last night. So, Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.”
“I think they’re great. Merry Christmas.” Mom gets up to help put his presents under the tree.
“What time are Jesse and Ella coming? Place was dark when I drove up,” Mason says.
“I said nine or nine thirty,” Mom answers.
“We gotta wait until then to open this stuff?” Cody asks, gesturing to the presents under the tree.
“You know what we got you,” Mom points out with a chuckle.
He mumbles to himself and takes another sip of coffee.
I head into the kitchen to pour myself a cup as well.
It’s been two weeks since Brantley and I broke up.
I’m doing fine with it all. Weirdly enough, I haven’t cried about it since that night, and I feel okay.
The fact that I don’t have to go over to his house for the holidays and do gifts is the most peaceful feeling I may have ever felt.
Wesley and I haven’t seen each other since the day we got back from the trip, other than at church. We’ve texted plenty but he’s been giving me space. Letting me mourn the breakup before we jump into anything.
“I’m gonna need about three cups of that,” Mason says behind me.
“Long night?” I ask.
He scoffs. “You ain’t kidding.”
“Sorry.” I give him a little side hug.
“You’d think on Christmas Eve, everyone would be asleep, excited to wake up and open presents. No, apparently everyone likes to get hammered and drive home.”
“Oh no.” I let go of him so he can pour his coffee.
“I had four DUIs by midnight,” he says. “Four!”
“Well, at least you got them.” I shrug, taking a sip of coffee and trying to stay positive.
“People are just stupid.” He shakes his head.
“We know any of them?” Cody asks, entering the kitchen for more coffee.
“Yeah. That big guy that sits on the back pew, tattoo on his neck, ponytail?” Mason rambles off and Cody blanks, as do I.
“Ponytail?” Cody questions.
“Neck tattoo?” I add.
“Oh, c’mon you guys. Back pew, left side?”
Cody and I exchange a look of uncertainty.
“You guys would be terrible cops!” Mason huffs with a head shake and walks into the living room. “You guys know who I’m talking about? Back pew, ponytail, tattoo?” He looks at Dad.
“Yeah. Kevin?” Dad says. “What about him?”
“Well,” Mason scoffs, “let’s just say he won’t be at church Sunday morning. He blew a .20 Breathalyzer.”
“Oh no.” Mom gasps.
“That’s a lot of beer, no?” Dad suggests.
“Yeah, said he had eleven, minus the one he had just cracked open ten minutes before I found him.” Mason shakes his head.
And that’s why I do not like being out late, especially on holidays or any occasion where people might be drinking.
Jesse and Ella traipse in the house carrying presents, snow sticking to their clothes and hair.
Ella is still very pregnant, but she jumps in to help Mom and me in the kitchen right away. The guys are staring out the back window, talking about who-knows-what. Deer, birds, hunting, guns…one of those things would be my guess.
“So. What did Jesse get you?” I ask Ella.
She smiles and pushes her wavy blonde hair back behind her shoulders. “This.” She lifts the necklace up from around her neck.
It’s a gold chain with a diamond in the center of a pendant and smaller diamonds around it. It’s simple and very Ella.
“Ooh, who knew my brother had such good taste,” I joke.
Dropping her voice to a whisper, she says, “Me too.”
“What was that?” Jesse asks and makes his way over. We can’t help but laugh.
“Nothing.” Ella blushes and tries to shoo him away by playfully pushing her fingers against his jaw. He still manages to plant a kiss on her cheek, and I watch his hand settle on her stomach.
As we’re all sitting down to eat breakfast, the sound of a side-by-side or four-wheeler comes from outside. We all exchange a confused look before Dad’s chair scrapes across the floor and he’s up, looking out the window.
“It’s Wesley,” he says, coming back to the table.
My brothers immediately break into exaggerated oohs.
“Stop,” I mutter, shooting them a glare as I stand. My heart picks up speed, nervous about what he wants. He didn’t text me he was coming.
The table conversations carry on just as I open the front door. Wes smiles and steps inside. In his hand he holds a small box, wrapped in red-and-silver wrapping paper.
“What’s that?”
“For you,” he says simply with a cute smile.
“But…why are you getting me something? I didn’t get you anything.”
“I don’t need anything.” He holds the gift out. “Just open it.”
I eye him for a second before taking the box, looking it over while I try to figure out what on earth he got me.
“You wrap this yourself?” I ask, laughing at the tape-to-paper ratio.
“Of course I did.” He bats his eyes at me, trying to act proud of himself.
I can’t help but laugh. “That’s…obvious.”
“Just open it,” he mutters.
I peel away the paper and open the black box, revealing a silver bracelet inside. It’s not flashy, but something I’d actually wear.
I take it out and etched on the surface is Philippians 4:6–7. I run my thumb over the engraving, knowing that verse better than any other: Do not be anxious about anything.
“Wesley,” I whisper, looking back up at him. His brown eyes are bright,
“It’s nothing spectacular.” He laughs. “I got it a while ago, soon after we read through that passage together, and I never had the chance to give it to you until now, so…Merry Christmas.”
I step forward and wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you.” His arms cross around me, and I swear, for a second, the entire world stops spinning.