Chapter 1 The Ghost of Thanksgiving #2
“It’s gorgeous,” I grumbled in a petulant voice. “A little surprised she didn’t paint it animal print, though, or gold or something. She must have had some help.”
Teagan grimaced. “She dated a designer for a while. We think he made most of the decisions.”
“That makes more sense.”
Teagan linked her arm through mine, tugging me toward her house. “Where is she by the way? You know, she’s always welcome.” She ignored my glare. “But we haven’t seen her in a while.”
I shrugged. “Her latest text said something about Spain for the holiday season.”
“Spain?”
“She can’t bear America’s Christmas consumerism.” I mimicked my mother’s lofty tone. “She just had to get out. See the world.” I gave Teagan a look. “The real world, darling. Not drab Kansas.”
Teagan held the door open for me. “That’s nice of her to keep you informed of her travels.”
“I think it’s just in case she dies.” At Teagan’s gulped laughter, I added, “She’s afraid her body will get lost overseas or something.
She doesn’t want to be buried in some rando cemetery in Dubai or Ibiza or whatever.
My sole responsibility as her daughter is to make sure her remains get home safely. ”
“You’re terrible.”
“I’m honest.”
“Is that little Holly Haden?” Linda Meyer’s adoring voice called from the kitchen.
My tiny childhood home—brand-new updates aside—could fit twice inside Teagan’s house.
With her three brothers, three dogs, four cats, and the bird—if it was still alive—they had needed the room, where it had always just been Mom and me.
The only room we’d needed was space away from each other.
“You get in here right now! Don’t make me leave this turkey to burn to come give you a hug. ”
“She’s so dramatic,” Teagan sighed.
My heart had grown three sizes just by stepping inside this beloved house, this house that held as many childhood memories for me as my own. I loved it here. And I loved this family more than anything. “Good grief, it’s good to be back,” I breathed.
Teagan smiled softly at me, her eyes shining in the same way mine were. Everyone knew long distance romantic relationships were hard, but nobody ever talked about how awful it was to live far away from your best friend.
It was worse. So much worse.
“I’m coming!” I called to the kitchen.
Dropping my purse on the bench near the front door, I hurried through the living room where two of Teagan’s brothers, Riley and Alex, stopped arguing over football to say hello.
I waved at their significant others, who I hadn’t met yet, and scratched a few excited pups behind the ears on my way.
But before I could get through the kitchen door, Tom, Teagan’s dad, jumped up from the dining room where he was twisting a cloth napkin into some sort of failed fancy shape and wrapped me in a huge bear hug before I knew what was happening.
“She finally found her way back home,” he boomed to the whole house, and neighborhood, and town of Mistletoe. “It’s about goddamn time.”
“It’s good to see you too, Tom,” I laughed into his chest. He smelled like peppermint candies and Old Spice, and it was one of my favorite smells in the whole world.
If Linda had been a surrogate mom when I already had one.
Tom had been the stand-in dad after I’d lost my own.
He taught me how to shoot a basketball and change my oil, he’d slipped me twenty bucks whenever Linda wasn’t looking during high school—for gas, he’d said—and he vetted any boy who tried to date me.
If only I would have taken him to college with me.
“My turn!” Linda demanded, yanking me out of her husband’s arms and into her own. I went from one safe place to the next, smothered by joy and love. “My baby’s home,” she whispered into my hair. She smelled like lemons and pumpkin pie and a wholeness I had been missing since I fled this town.
“Don’t make me cry,” I demanded sternly, already swiping back the rogue tears.
She pulled back, squeezing my chin in her spatula-free hand. “Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.” She leaned forward and pressed a messy kiss to my forehead. “God, it’s good to have you home.”
I took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s good to be ho—”
“Holly Haden? Is it the Holly Haden?” Teagan’s older brother Cooper walked through the sliding back door, his hand clutched over his heart in mock shock.
“It can’t be. It can’t be the Holly Haden.
” Cooper was only three years older than Teagan and me, closest in age to her out of all her brothers.
We’d spent our entire childhood chasing after him and his group of friends.
He’d never quite grown out of finding us annoying.
But the feeling was so mutual.
“Coop, you act like you didn’t come with Teagan to visit me just two weeks ago.
” I tried not to wince at my appearance, now that I hadn’t only driven eight hours but also turned into a blubbering mess at the sight of Linda and Tom.
At least it was only Teagan’s family, specifically Coop, who was as close to a brother as I’d ever had.
He grinned at me, and for some reason the extra twinkle in his eye set me on edge.
What was he up to? “But I haven’t seen you back here, have I, Balls?
” Ugh, I hated his stupid nickname for me.
It was from the song Deck the Halls— “deck the halls with boughs of Holly,” which he’d misinterpreted as “Balls of Holly” in the fourth grade.
He’d been so excited to come home and tell me that Holly was made of balls.
Which as a ten-year-old, he’d assumed meant boy parts.
And from then on, I’d been Balls to Cooper, Alex, and Riley. It was my greatest shame.
Cooper leaned to the side, a mischievous smirk making my heart flutter with nerves, and shouted through the still-open back door. “Sam, come see who decided to darken our doorway this fine Thanksgiving!”
Unless Cooper had tracked down a brand-new best friend, Sam could only be one person. The same Sam I’d managed to avoid for the last six years by never coming home. The same Sam I’d been in love with my entire life.
The same Sam who had broken my heart into a million pieces.