Chapter 24
Evie
Iwish I knew where my old diary was, so I could reread all the entries that would remind me why I can’t go there with Brandon again—no matter how desperately I want to.
But the last time I saw that old journal was the morning after my car accident.
It fell on the floor, and that was the last time I saw it.
It’s been missing ever since—almost like it fell through a hole in the floor. Weird.
So instead of rereading all the entries that would remind me why getting cozy with Brandon again is a bad idea, I’m drafting my resignation letter while Grandma and I watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. There’s no way I can continue working for him after what transpired between us this afternoon.
A sneeze explodes out of me unexpectedly, sending a string of snot hurling through the air. I groan and cringe against the pain as I wipe my nose.
Grandma’s knitting hands pause mid-stitch and her rocking chair stills.
“That’s the third time you’ve sneezed since we started the movie, Evie.
” She frowns. “You must be getting a cold.” She’s across the room and feeling around my face with the back of her hand before I can protest. “You’re burning up, sweetheart. How long have you been feeling unwell?”
“I feel fine,” I insist. Apart from a little lethargy this afternoon and a few measly sneezes, I’ve felt fine. For the most part, anyway. As fine as one can feel when it seems like their back is being slowly plucked apart, vertebra by vertebra.
“There’s a virus going around,” she says, handing me a tissue. “I’ve heard it’s a doozy. Wait here and I’ll get you something.”
I set my laptop aside and stand. She shouldn’t be expending her precious energy taking care of me. “Don’t worry. I can do it.” But as I go to step around her, a wave of vertigo hits me, and I teeter sideways. The world shifts beneath me. “Whoa.”
Grandma reaches for me as I topple sideways. Brushing her off, I tumble down onto the cushions instead. She frowns, and I glare at her in return, appalled she’d try and keep me upright. Of the two of us, she’s the least steady on her feet. The last thing we need is for her to suffer another fall.
I attempt to stand again, but Grandma’s scolding voice startles me. “Genevieve Catherine, sit down.” Her tone is stern enough to remind me of my wayward teen years. She waits to make sure I’m not going to move before heading for the hall.
While I wait for her to return, it occurs to me that Grandma’s the only true parent I’ve ever had.
At least, the only one I could count on to love me unconditionally—no strings attached.
My dad has always seemed like an untouchable god by comparison.
Earning his love felt about as easy as rolling a boulder up a hill; Dante’s special layer of hell, reserved just for me.
Jamie never understood that. He’s always been Dad’s golden child—the one he planned for and wanted. The one who could do no wrong.
As a teenager, I did everything I could to attract my father’s attention after my mom left—negative or otherwise.
You name it, and I did it. Drinking, smoking, partying, skipping school.
But it seemed like the more I acted out, the less Dad wanted to do with me.
As soon as he started talking about shipping me off to boarding school, Grandma stepped in.
I lived with her during my junior and senior years of high school.
To me, Grandma’s love was the opposite of my parents’.
It was safe, freely given, and unconditional.
I never needed to earn her love or fear it would disappear based on my poor conduct.
It just was—as if it had always been and always would be.
And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, Grandma would never leave me. Never abandon me.
Grandma’s love felt easy. Light.
Pastor Mark’s words circle back to me, yet again. So cast your burdens on Him, child, because He cares deeply for you. His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. He will never leave you. Never forsake you.
Grandma returns and extends two gel pills in my direction. “Take these and go straight to bed.”
I shake my head. “Maybe later. I need to clean up the kitchen and finish the lau—”
“I will take care of the kitchen,” she interjects. “The laundry can wait. You just focus on getting some rest.”
“Grandma, that’s why I’m here,” I remind her. “To take care of things like that.”
She wags a finger at me. “I am not helpless, Evie. Now take the cold medicine and go to bed.”
“Fine,” I gripe, swiping the pills up and popping them into my mouth. I hide them between my cheek and molars before pretending to swallow, then open my mouth to show her.
Satisfied, she nods, gesturing for me to get up. She then proceeds to walk me to my bedroom like I’m a prisoner being escorted back to her cell. I turn to her outside my door. “Am I allowed to brush my teeth?”
Her eyes narrow. “You may. I’ll wait here.”
I resist a smile. Secretly, I adore her attempt at mothering me. But I moved in to take care of her—not the other way around.
Inside the bathroom, I remove the melting gel tabs from between my gums and brush my teeth, then return to my bedroom to change into my pajamas. Grandma waits outside the door and comes in when I yell for her.
She chuckles as she sits down on my bed, cataloguing my stuffed animal collection with amusement. She picks up a white bear from my nightstand. “When are you going to stop collecting these?” she wonders, stroking its soft fur before setting it back on the table.
When Mom comes home. So, probably never.
“They might be worth money one day,” I defend.
She chuckles. “Let’s hope so.”
Ignoring her laughter, I tuck myself into bed and pull the covers up to my nose. I burrow down into the sheets and smile up at her, feeling like I’m ten years old again as she waits for me to get comfortable.
I’m half expecting her to read me a bedtime story, but once I’m settled, she says a quick prayer and asks me if there’s anything else I need. I shake my head, but really, I wish she’d cuddle up in bed with me like she used to do when I had night terrors.
“Do you remember when we used to have sleepovers?” I ask, knowing I’m stalling. I don’t feel like journaling, but I don’t want to be left alone with my thoughts just yet.
Grandma’s expression softens. “Those are some of my happiest memories.”
My eyes prickle with tears. “Mine, too.”
She strokes my hair, and I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation of her soft, soothing touch. “Is that a not-so-subtle hint that you want me to stay?”
“No, that’s okay,” I mumble around an unexpected yawn. “I don’t want you to get you sick.”
“Okay, then,” she says, patting my hand. “Please rest up, Evie. I’m here if you need anything.” She kisses my forehead, and the lingering, comforting fragrance of her hairspray is the last thing I remember before I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
***
“Evie.” Brandon’s voice breaks through my consciousness like a sledgehammer. Disoriented, I gasp and sit up, glancing frantically around the dimly lit room. “Merry Christmas,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“Brandon,” I groan groggily, rubbing my eyes. He chuckles, and awareness rushes back to me as I take in my surroundings. We’re in Brandon’s living room. “Is Teddy—?”
“In bed,” he confirms, loosening his tie. “I put him down as soon as we got back. He was zonked.”
“I bet.” I glance down at the couch. I blush when I realize I must have fallen asleep in the car. We had a quiet Christmas gathering at Brandon’s mom’s house; it was just me, Dana, him, his mom, and Teddy, since the rest of his family celebrates Christmas on the actual day.
“Your mom makes the best eggnog I’ve ever had,” I say around a yawn. In the back of my mind, I’m wondering why Brandon didn’t drop me off at Grandma’s house afterward. But if he wants to spend more time with me, I’m certainly not going to complain. “I definitely went overboard.”
“You did, but it’s alright,” he says, laughing gently as he trails his fingers down my cheek in a featherlight touch.
I shiver, and he chuffs my chin affectionately, smiling at me as my cheeks warm.
I’ll never get used to the way he touches me so intimately now.
“Do you want some water? Some aspirin, maybe?”
“Ugh, yes please. That would be great.”
He returns from the kitchen with the goods, and I down the pills and guzzle the water in one desperate gulp.
When I’m done, I bring my legs up beneath me, and he sits down beside me on the couch.
He reaches out to smooth my hair back from my face, and I lean into his touch, practically purring like a cat.
Then he pulls something out of his back pocket.
My eyes widen. “What’s that?” I ask as he balances a velvet jewelry box on his knee.
“It’s your Christmas present,” he says, as if it’s obvious.
He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close, and I can’t help but think about how he didn’t hug me like this at his mom’s house this afternoon.
He only seems to touch me so intimately when we’re alone. Which makes sense. But it still hurts.
“You got me a present?” I honestly didn’t expect him to get me anything.
“You got me one, didn’t you?”
“Well, I would have thought you’d give it to me at your mom’s this afternoon,” I explain as I pick up the box.
That’s where I gave him my gift, anyway.
My excitement grows as I smooth my thumb across the soft box.
I look up at him. “Is it really jewelry?” All I got him was a silk tie with little nutcrackers on it and some matching socks .
. . A stupid gag gift in comparison to this.
He nods. If I’m not mistaken, he looks a little embarrassed by the gesture. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, though. I already know this is going to be the best Christmas present I’ll ever get.