Chapter 19
nineteen
. . .
Eden
The Newman house glows brightly against the snow, with smoke curling from the chimney.
Christmas lights blink lazily along the roofline while Kyle helps me out of the truck.
It’s perfect…too perfect. It’s a snow globe come to life and reminds me way too much of what I’ll never have again, at least not in the same way I once did.
“You good,” Kyle asks quietly.
I nod even though the grief still feels lodged beneath my ribs like broken glass.
“Does your mum still make that weird marshmallow salad thing?”
Kyle snorts.
“Unfortunately, yes. But don’t worry, Nana is here, and she loves it. Sit by her, and you can pretend to take a scoop and put it on her plate. She has like no teeth and can only eat soft foods anyway.”
That gets a chuckle out of me.
The front door swings open before we reach it.
“There’s my birthday girl!”
Mrs. Newman pulls me straight into a hug, and I bite back the wince as my ribs complain. The house smells like cinnamon and vanilla mixed with roast chicken and beef. Mrs. Newman hates turkey, which always worked great for me. Turkey at home, and chicken and beef with the Newmans.
In a blink, everything that used to make me so happy is now just a reminder of what I’ve lost. The singing, the crowded kitchen, too many voices overlapping. Tears prickle my eyes, but I manage not to let them fall.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispers immediately. “Come in.” Mrs. Newman holds me as if I’ll disappear and a stupid tear leaks free. “I loved your parents so much. I can’t even imagine what today is like for you,” she says, rubbing circles on my back.
Why is it that kindness feels unbearable lately?
She steps away, and Kyle helps me with my coat and boot before escorting me into the living room.
Everything is loud, warm, and alive. Christmas music drifts in from the kitchen while Mr. Newman argues with football commentators from his recliner. I recognize their aunts and uncles, the cousins and children, but rather than heading over to the large group, I wave.
Kris runs in, stunning in her red Christmas dress that pairs well with her black hair and eyes.
The dining table is covered with food. Three different types of potato, salads, glazed carrots, warm bread, and so much more. Mrs. Newman must have been cooking all day to get this done.
My stomach growls before I can stop it.
Mrs. Newman points aggressively toward the table.
“You’re too skinny. Sit down. Eat something.”
Kris links her arm with mine.
“You are sitting beside me.”
“Hey, what about me?” Kyle pouts.
“How about I sit between you two, then you can properly critique how much I take and how many times I chew per mouthful,” I tease.
“We’re not that bad,” they say together, making us all laugh.
The grief isn’t quite as sharp when I sit down at the long table. I pull the vintage camera out of my bag and hang it around my neck. The first picture I snap is of Kris stealing olives from the pickle tray.
“Delete that immediately,” she says.
“Can’t.” I hold it up for her to have a look. “Old school, it has film.”
She stops with an olive halfway to her mouth.
“Like film, film? Do they even make that anymore?”
Kyle leans around me and stares at his sister.
“Pretty sure there is only one kind of film.”
“Shut it.” She points at her brother.
Kyle grins.
I take a few more, catching tiny snippets of normal life.
Mr. Newman slicing the roast beef. Grandpa Newman sleeping at the table with his mouth open.
Cali and Jacob throwing mashed potatoes at the kids’ table.
Kris dramatically losing at cards and getting caught trying to cheat.
It’s incredibly satisfying hearing the click and the shutter closing, as if I’ve really captured the moment in the lens.
Not big stuff, just living. Things that I’ve taken for granted, believing that I’ll never need a photo to remember.
Felix was right. It does help. It’s cathartic, and looking through the lens feels safer than feeling everything directly.
After dinner, Kris disappears briefly upstairs before returning with a wrapped box.
“You better cry,” she warns, plopping down beside me.
“Evil.”
“I’m kidding, sorta. This is from both of us.”
She points to Kyle with a devilish glint in her eye.
“Now I’m scared, and I’ve already cried twice today,” I say, unwrapping the paper slowly.
I immediately choke out a laugh through fresh tears.
There, nestled in the tissue paper, is a turquoise lava lamp with tiny fake turtles floating lazily inside.
“Oh my god.”
Kris beams proudly.
Kyle laughs and points.
“Your face is priceless.”
He pulls out his phone and takes a photo of me smiling and holding it like it’s a child while Kris rolls her eyes.
“I found it online at like two in the morning and immediately thought of you. We decided it was a must-buy.”
“It’s hideous,” I say, pulling it out.
The monstrosity is longer than my forearm.
“Don’t lie, you love it.”
Kyle nudges my shoulder with his, and he’s right.
I absolutely love it.
The tears come out of nowhere, and I cover my mouth. Dad would’ve loved this stupid thing too. The twins wrap their arms around me and hold me. Thankfully, the rest of the family keeps their distance, letting us have this moment.
“You guys…”
“You’re allowed to miss them and still enjoy yourself,” Kris whispers.
The night moves around me with too much dessert and chaotic board games. Christmas karaoke should absolutely qualify as psychological warfare. I sit out of it, laughing at everyone else. But during every quiet moment between it all, my thoughts drift—Felix.
Part of me is here, but another part is still back at home with him. I have to find a way to help Kris and Kyle see that Felix is a good guy and he’s good for me. Not having him here feels wrong.
felix
I barely notice the cold as I stand in the shadows, hidden among the snow-covered bushes between two houses, watching through the window. I had no intention of following Eden, but I can’t help myself.
The Newman home is a large house, in a pretty area of the city, with cars parked everywhere and Christmas lights glinting from every home like a postcard.
The windows glow, the smell of food is thick in the air, and laughter spills out every time someone opens a front door.
Everything is warm, bright, teeming with life and love, and…
nothing that I have. Everyone in there has someone, while I’ve spent most of my life standing outside windows.
Eden moves past the frosty glass, smiling. She looks happy, which should make me happy, but ugly jealousy blooms in the middle of my chest.
It should be me with her. I’m the one who shows up, not them. I cook for her, hold her while she cries. I’ve shown her my vulnerable side, telling her about my fucked-up family and the things I usually keep buried deep.
But they still talked her into leaving me. I know it isn’t rational. I know most people spend Christmas with family and friends. But I want her to pick me.
Snow gathers on my shoulders while I watch Eden. She moves into the dining room, carrying her camera…my camera. The old Minolta hanging around her neck catches the light every time she turns. My uncle gave it to me just after my father was arrested. He thought it might help me with my anger.
People show you who they really are when they think nobody’s paying attention.
I think maybe that’s when it all started. The obsession with freezing moments before they disappear. At first, I photographed alleyways and rooftops, stray cats sleeping beneath streetlights, and the homeless tucked away in shadowy corners. Then…then I found my Pretty Thing.
Inside the house, Eden lifts the camera and takes another picture while Kyle leans close to show her something on his phone.
My jaw clenches. There’s nothing romantic happening. I know it, I can see it, but the look in his eyes…it does something poisonous to my brain, and my hand balls into a fist.
Kyle represents something that I can’t offer—a time before her parents died. Shared memories that Eden desperately wants to cling to, but they don’t include me. Kyle was there, and that…that’s dangerous.
I haven’t moved in almost two hours. My fingers ache inside my gloves, but leaving feels impossible. Because if I leave, then she’s here without me, laughing and healing.
The front door of a neighboring house opens, and a family hurries down the sidewalk, passing my hiding spot. I retreat further into the shadows automatically. I’m unwanted and always outside looking in, but just then Eden walks over to the Christmas tree. She’s alone, and her smile slowly fades.
There you are, Pretty Thing.
My chest tightens painfully.
She lifts the camera, pointing it toward the room like she’s trying to preserve the moment the same way I do. The corner of my mouth lifts. She likes my gift. Eden is carrying pieces of me without realizing it. But she should still be with me.
This is Kris’s doing. I know it. She and her twin need to back off.
Slinking around to the front of the house, I head for Kris’s car.
It’s parked at the front of a long line and has a foot of snow on it, but I made sure to memorize the make and model.
Pulling the knife out of my pocket, I flip it open and slice her front tire.
The blade sinking into the rubber is satisfying.
Keep it up, Kris, and you’ll lose more than a tire.
I find a new hiding spot across the road between two dark houses to wait.
The Newmans’ door opens, and I watch Eden hug Kris before stepping onto the porch. I don’t give a fuck about Kris, but when Kyle wraps his arm around Eden’s waist, it makes me homicidal.
By the time Kyle helps her into his vehicle, it’s just after ten and the snowstorm has worsened enough to blur the entire street white.
I wait patiently until Kyle’s truck pulls away before finally forcing my frozen legs back to my car.
I take the opposite route to her house so there is no chance of us crossing paths.
When I arrive, there is no sign of Kyle’s car or tire tracks in the driveway.
I park on the street, but waiting in the car just makes me anxious.
“Fuck it,” I grumble. Getting out, I opt to sit on the front steps.
My mind drifts aimlessly, and something becomes crystal clear. Homes can burn down. People can leave.
But Eden cannot leave me…not ever.
My fingers curl against the edge of the step when headlights finally appear at the end of the street.
The moment his truck turns into the driveway, I stand and revel in the annoyed look on Kyle’s face.
It’s comforting. He knows I’m a threat to him, but he has no idea how much of a threat I actually am.
Eden smiles when she sees me.
For one awful moment earlier, I wondered if it was just me counting the hours until I saw her again, but as our eyes meet…I know that I’m not the only one.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, the first one since Eden left.