Chapter Twelve

“I honestly don’t know what happened.” Keegan sighed and sipped her Bloody Mary as she sat across the table from Shannon. She shook her head and gazed off into the restaurant, which was packed for its annual Christmas brunch. “Good thing we got our reservations early, huh? This place is a zoo.”

“No, no,” Shannon said, setting down her mimosa in exchange for her fork, which she pointed at Keegan before stabbing a roasted potato. “Don’t change the subject. What exactly did you say?”

“The truth. I told her the truth.”

“Which was?”

Keegan sighed. “That night last year. I haven’t been able to get past it. That’s what I told her.” She sipped. “And then people came in, and she bonded with this snowboarder kid, and then we all left, and she jumped in her car with barely a word, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

“You texted?” Shannon asked.

Keegan gave her a look that said Duh.

“More than once?”

“I mean, a couple times, but I didn’t want to look desperate, you know?”

“Or stalkery.”

“Or that. I have my pride.” She moved a few pieces of fruit around with her fork but didn’t eat any of them. “I just don’t understand.”

“Maybe it was too much for her,” Shannon said. “Maybe you just need to give her a little time to absorb?”

It wasn’t a terrible suggestion. Keegan could admit that. She took her sister’s words and put them in her back pocket. She could decide later if she wanted to analyze them.

Besides, she had lots of things to do. Christmas was in three days. She was out to brunch with her sister, then they were headed back to their mom’s to make cookies. It was a tradition that Keegan loved, and she wasn’t about to let her stupid brain ruin it for her. She needed to set this whole thing aside, at least for now. What more could she do, right?

* * *

Mia hated seeing her granddaughter like this. Quiet. Pensive. A little depressed. Sammi hadn’t wanted to talk about it. She just came over and plopped herself onto Mia’s couch to watch the Christmas movie they had on. Every so often, Maggie would meet Mia’s gaze over Sammi’s head, silently battling over which of them should say something.

“You wanna talk about it?” Maggie finally asked.

“Talk about what?” Sammi asked without looking at her.

Maggie rolled her eyes, and Mia stifled a chuckle. “The reason you’re here on our couch and sighing every five minutes?”

Sammi began to push to her feet. “I can go.”

“Oh, sit your ass down,” Maggie said, but lightly, teasingly. Sammi sat. “We’re just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” This time, she lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket off the back of it to cover herself up. It reminded Mia of the first time Sammi got her heart broken in high school. She’d spent the next several days curled up on the couch, watching television—though not actually watching, Mia suspected—under a blanket.

She got up and headed into the kitchen, then returned a few minutes later with a plate of the molasses cookies she’d saved for Sammi, and a glass of homemade eggnog. She set them down on the coffee table in front of Sammi’s face and said, “I even grated fresh nutmeg on the eggnog.” When Sammi looked up at her, she smiled.

“Thanks, Grams.” Sammi pushed herself to sitting and reached for a cookie. She took a bite and gave a little half-hearted smile of approval before sighing. Then she sipped the eggnog, and her eyes went wide as she looked toward Mia.

“And possibly a little Jameson in addition to the nutmeg.”

Sammi burst out laughing. It was clear she couldn’t help it. “You really are the best, Grams.”

“I just don’t like seeing you this way, kiddo.”

Another sigh, and Sammi nodded slowly. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Mia didn’t know the details. Sammi hadn’t given any. Just that she’d talked with Keegan, and there was now clarity, and that seemed to be that. She decided to change the subject.

“So. How do you feel about going with me to bring Hulk home for Christmas?”

That got Sammi’s attention, and she sat up fully. “What? Seriously?”

Maggie was just as surprised, if her suddenly wide eyes were any indication. “Um, what?”

“Oh, Mom, he’s a great dog. Almost as great as Beckett.”

Mia shrugged and shook her head. “I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s getting depressed being stuck in there. He’s enormous. He’s old. Nobody’s looked at him. And I love the giant.” She looked from Sammi to Maggie and back, both of them smiling at her like they’d known all along things would go this way, and she held up a finger. “It’s just to foster him over the holiday. I can’t stand the idea of him being alone for Christmas.” She turned her gaze toward Maggie, who didn’t look completely convinced but threw up her arms in defeat anyway.

“Fine. It can’t hurt to foster for a bit.”

“I am one hundred percent down for this.” Sammi stood up, and her eyes were actually bright for the first time since she’d arrived, and that assured Mia that this had been the right move. “Let’s go get him.”

They were quiet on the drive to Junebug Farms. Mia let Sammi drive, as it was snowing gently and it made Sammi feel better if she was behind the wheel and not Mia. That was fine. It gave Mia an opportunity to observe her granddaughter, to watch the face she’d known for thirty-four years, since the moment her first breath was taken.

Sammi was a person who processed everything internally. When something bothered her, she rolled it around in her head, let it marinate, rarely wanted to talk things out until she was ready. And if you knew her the way Mia did, you let her have that time. Maggie struggled with that, often tried to force Sammi to talk, but Mia knew better.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, hmm?” she asked as Sammi turned them down the road where the shelter was.

Sammi inhaled a slow, big breath. “I’m thinking a few things. First, you and I both know this isn’t a case of fostering. Hulk is never coming back here. He’s gonna live with you, and I hope I get to watch you try to break that to Mom.” She turned her grin toward Mia, who smiled back at her, but said nothing. “And second, you’ve inspired me. I think I’m going to ask about adopting Beckett.”

Mia clapped her hands in delight. “Yay! That’s fantastic. I’m so glad.”

“Not sure we should drive them home together, though. And I might not be able to get him right away anyway. Might take a couple of days. But I’m pulling the trigger.”

“Finally,” Mia said. She knew Sammi had been heading this way. Again, it took her granddaughter time to work through things. But she always did.

Inside, Junebug Farms was surprisingly busy for a Sunday afternoon. But it was also only two days until Christmas, so folks who were adopting pets for the holiday were ready to take them home. The big tree in front of the window was lit up in celebration. Small children ran around the giant expanse of the lobby while their parents filled out paperwork at the horseshoe-shaped front desk. The soundtrack of barking dogs was louder than usual, and Mia waved to the women behind the desk and led Sammi into the dog wing.

The second they pushed open the door, the barking increased exponentially. Mia was used to it, but Sammi faltered for a split second, then shot her a sheepish grin.

“Loud in here,” she said unnecessarily.

“Tell me about it.” Mia marched them straight down the hall to Lisa’s desk. And of course, she was working. The poor girl put in almost as many hours as Jessica and was just as dedicated to the shelter.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Beckett,” Sammi said and headed down the hallway.

“What are you doing here?” Lisa asked, moving her gaze to her computer screen. “I don’t have you on the schedule…”

“That’s because I’m not scheduled today.” Mia smiled at her. “I’d like to take Hulk home. If that’s okay.”

Lisa couldn’t hide her surprise, which instantly morphed into delight. “Oh, Mia, that’s great.”

“I can’t stand the thought of him being alone for Christmas.” It was the same thing she’d said to her family, and it was the truth.

“Poor guy’s been really low-key lately.” Lisa’s tone was knowing, and Mia could only imagine how much sadness she’d witnessed in her years at the shelter. “You wanna foster him?”

“Let’s put that down for now.” She said nothing more, and Lisa’s expression of understanding was exactly what she needed.

“Say no more.” Lisa rifled through a couple baskets on her desk. “Looks like I’m out of the right forms. Let me go grab some more. You won’t have to jump through all the usual hoops, since we all know you better than we know our own families. Be right back.” She headed toward the door to the main lobby.

Mia glanced to her right to find Sammi standing in front of a kennel halfway down the strip. Just standing there. She walked down to meet her and immediately understood her stricken face.

A big red sign that said ADOPTED in capital letters was attached to the door.

On the other side of it, Beckett stood, nubby tail wagging, waiting expectantly for his human friend to let him out, clearly excited to see her.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mia said, running her hand down Sammi’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

Sammi looked like she was going to cry, and she cleared her throat and seemed to do her best to regain her composure. “No. No, it’s good. He deserves a good home. You know?” She sniffled and wiped a hand under her right eye. “This is good.” She cleared her throat again. “Do you think Lisa would let me see him one last time? Go in and pet him?”

“I’m sure of it.”

* * *

Christmas Eve was probably Keegan’s favorite day of the entire year. She loved Christmas Day nearly as much, but something about Christmas Eve was more…magical to her. It seemed to carry a bit of mystery and love and a joy that no other evening did.

Their family gathering was usually fairly small, just her, her mom and dad, and Shannon, and maybe that was part of why she loved it so much. The intimacy of just their tiny family. Christmas Day would include extended family, grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. But Christmas Eve, it was just them. They had simple finger foods to eat, grazing all evening. They played games. They each opened a gift. Then they sat down to watch A Christmas Story together. And while she looked forward to the day when Christmas Eve would stretch a bit more to include the significant others of Shannon and herself, their kids, she was very happy with the way it was right now.

She sat on the floor of the living room, her back against the couch, and watched with a smile as her sister squealed with delight over a gift she opened, a sweater their mom had apparently ordered weeks ago.

“I didn’t think you heard me,” Shannon said, throwing her arms around their mother.

“Honey, you dropped hints every hour for a solid week,” their mom replied. “There was no way not to hear you.”

“You okay, kiddo?” her dad asked quietly, dropping a hand onto Keegan’s shoulder from the couch where he sat.

She nodded as she glanced up at him. “Yeah. I’m good. I think I’m gonna take a walk, though.” She pushed to her feet and could feel the eyes on her. “You guys,” she said with a soft chuckle. “I’m fine. I promise. I just need a little air, and it’s such a nice night out.”

“Want me to go with?” Shannon asked, but Keegan smiled and shook her head.

“No, I’m good.” Slipping her arms into her coat, she added, “I won’t be gone long. Just need some air. Don’t start the movie without me.” She pointed a finger at her mom. The three of them were terrible at hiding their worry about her, but she shrugged it off and headed out into the snow.

The night was gorgeous, a picture-perfect Christmas Eve right out of a movie, complete with fluffy snowflakes falling slowly and quietly to the ground. She pulled on her hat and mittens and began to walk, knowing exactly where she was headed.

Silence was the other beautiful thing about Christmas Eve. The blessed quiet. As a person who taught small children for a living, she was surrounded by noise on the daily. Not even just screaming or shouting, but volume. Schools were not quiet, nor were children, even when they spoke at their regular volume—loud. Add in staff meetings and parent-teacher conferences, and it often seemed like endless noise. She had weekends, yes, but she would still take any chance she could to immerse herself in glorious silence.

Like now.

The street was lit up with streetlights and Christmas lights, and driveways were filled with the extra cars of visitors and holiday guests, but there was nobody on the sidewalks, and the road itself was quiet. It felt like there was nothing but Keegan, the falling snow, and the soft crunch of her boots.

She turned the corner and walked past three houses in a row with spectacular holiday displays. One was completely outlined in white lights—doors, roofline, windows, trees, everything. It was gorgeous. The next one had at least eight inflatable light-up yard decorations, everything from a snowman to Buzz Lightyear wearing a Santa hat. The third had a life-size animatronic Santa with his sleigh and eight reindeer on the roof. Keegan stopped and stared in wonder at how incredibly lifelike it was, and she thought about how much some of her students would love it.

The longer she walked, the calmer she felt, and for that, she was grateful. By the time she reached McInerny Park and laid eyes on the Christmas tree, lit up there in the town center, all multicolored lights and simple ornaments, she was feeling better. And by the time she’d walked a few more feet to the gazebo, she felt more relaxed than she had since yesterday when she’d been with—

“Sammi.” The word of surprise was out of her mouth before she could catch it, because there she was. Right there in the gazebo. Sammi sat there, inside the white wooden structure, protected from the snow and all alone. She wore a black puffy coat and a red knit hat with a pom-pom on top, and her hands were tucked into her pockets. When she turned and met Keegan’s gaze, her astonishment was clear.

“What are you doing here?” Sammi asked, and mixed in with her surprise was definite joy. Her smile said as much.

Keegan shrugged as she climbed the four stairs and stepped under the roof and out of the falling snow. “Just wanted some quiet time.”

“Oh.” Sammi’s smile faltered, and she started to stand. “I can go if you—”

“You stop that,” Keegan said, slapping playfully at her arm, then grew serious. “I’m glad you’re here. Stay.”

They sat down together, side by side, and were quiet for a long moment.

“I love this,” Sammi whispered. “It’s so peaceful.”

“Isn’t it? I feel like, if you listen really hard, you can almost hear the snowflakes when they land. Like a soft sss.”

They were quiet for a minute or two, and then Sammi said, “Oh yeah. You can.” She reached down by her feet, and that’s when Keegan noticed she had a large Yeti with her.

“What’s that?”

“Hot chocolate.” Sammi opened the drinking tab and handed it to her.

Keegan took a sip, and it was thick and creamy and warm and sweet and, “Oh my God, that’s good.”

“Made it myself.”

“Seriously? How did I not know of your status as an expert hot chocolate craftsman?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Valid.” A beat went by. Another. And yeah, she was gonna say it. Damn it. “I mean, I wanted to know more. So…not for lack of trying.”

She felt more than saw Sammi squint at her. “How do you figure?”

This time, Keegan did look at her. “Um…were you not there the other day when I kissed you? And then when we were talking about it at the hospital?” What in the world was Sammi saying? How was kissing her not a signal that maybe she’d like to get to know her more?

“But you said you hadn’t been able to get past what happened last year.” Sammi’s voice was firm, almost as if she was trying to temper her anger or something. “You said I just never got past it. I couldn’t get past that moment. That’s exactly what you said.”

“Yes. That’s what I said because that’s what I meant.”

“So, if that moment was so bad, why would I think you’d want to try again?” Judging by her expression, Sammi’s anger had morphed into confusion. Which was a relief to Keegan because she was utterly lost.

“What? What do you mean so bad? That night was so wonderful, and it was also crazy intense because my feelings for you were through the roof, and it was just so fast.” She swallowed hard, remembering the passion of that night, how it felt so new and so big, she’d been afraid it would swamp her like a tidal wave. “And no, I didn’t handle it well. In fact, I handled it in the worst possible way I could. I ran. It was just…so much. It overwhelmed me. And I ran.” Saying it out loud made it even worse than it had felt at the time. Worse than it had felt in the subsequent weeks and months when she’d first avoided Sammi’s texts, then answered them, but in a purely platonic way until Sammi had gotten the hint.

“Wait. Your feelings for me?” Sammi’s voice was soft, just above a whisper, and her eyes had gone round as the red and green balls that hung on the town Christmas tree behind them.

“Yeah.”

“I…but…my God, why didn’t you say something?” Sammi’s eyes stayed almost comically wide, and Keegan laughed softly, despite knowing this was not the time to be laughing.

“Because I didn’t know how? Because I was afraid? Because I’m an idiot?” She held up her hands, out of answers. “Take your pick.”

Sammi simply sat there looking a combination of stunned and confused.

“I know,” Keegan said. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I’d come out of a relationship that left me kinda battered, and I’d promised myself—I’d vowed—that I’d take my time the next time, that I wouldn’t jump in, as I tend to do. That I would take my time and step carefully and look before I leaped and all those stupid clichés.” She looked down at her mittens, focused on the colors of the marled yarn—blues and greens and ivories. “And then you came along, and there I was, diving in headfirst because everything was so good. Everything just fit. And…I panicked.”

Sammi had sat quietly, taking her words in. She had pulled red mittens that matched her hat out of her pockets and pushed her hands into them. Now, like Keegan, she stared at them for a long time. So long that Keegan started to wonder if she was going to speak at all. Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe this was all just ridiculous. Maybe Keegan had had her chance a year ago, she’d blown it in spectacular fashion, and she needed to leave Sammi alone and move on with her life.

Still, she sat.

Still, Sammi sat.

Still, the snow fell.

Finally, Sammi spoke. “I want to tell you you’re a fool.”

“I know.” Keegan nodded, her eyes on her mittens. “I know.”

“No.” Sammi waited until Keegan met her gaze. “I want to tell you that because I’m kind of annoyed that we’ve wasted an entire year. But I can’t.”

“You can’t?” What in the world? “Why not?”

Sammi shrugged as she blew out a breath, the vapor floating off and disappearing. “Because I get it. Because everything you said makes sense to me.”

“It does?” Did her eyes bug out of her head? Because it felt like they might have, as shocked as she was by Sammi’s words.

“That your feelings were too big? Too much? That you got overwhelmed? Of course it does. That’s something that could easily happen to anybody.”

Keegan just blinked at her. This was not the response she’d expected.

“Now, that being said, am I kind of irritated at the way you handled things? Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Keegan snorted a laugh. She couldn’t help it. “Understood. Definitely. I’m so sorry.”

“I mean, you had plenty of time, lots of opportunities to just tell me. Right? But you friend-zoned me.”

Keegan sighed. “I did.”

“Ugh.” Sammi shook her head. “Such a fool.”

“It’s true. A fool who would like more hot chocolate, please.”

Sammi handed over the Yeti without comment, and Keegan drank it down, letting the warm sweetness fill her up.

They sat quietly for a long while, just listening to the snowflakes.

“What do we do now?” Keegan asked the question, even though she was slightly afraid of the answer. Sammi was well within her rights to shrug and walk away. Keegan hoped she didn’t, but if she did, she’d have to accept it. This was her fault.

“I think we start over.” Sammi’s voice was clear and matter-of-fact.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Okay. How?”

“What if you come to my house tomorrow night? After you celebrate with your family. Do you have the time for that?”

Keegan turned to look at her, and she waited until Sammi made eye contact. When she did, it felt like something clicked into place. That’s how it always was with her. Why had she been so afraid before? “Sammi, you could ask me to fly to Portugal tomorrow because you’re going to be there, and I’d make the time.”

A beat passed while she simply watched Sammi smile tenderly before she spoke. “Sadly, I’ll just be in my own little house, which is not in Portugal, but on Sycamore Street right here in Northwood.”

“Sycamore Street sounds perfect.”

“Okay.” Sammi’s grin grew wider.

“Okay.” Keegan felt lighter. “I should probably get back to my parents’ before they send out a search party.”

“Same.”

They stood together, and Keegan handed the Yeti back to Sammi. “Thanks for sharing your hot chocolate.”

“Sure.”

They took the steps down into the snow, Keegan’s previous footsteps almost filled in. She turned to face Sammi, who looked so fucking gorgeous in her winter clothes with the snow falling softly around her that it took Keegan’s breath for a moment. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow, then,” Sammi said, and then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Keegan’s. She didn’t linger, but she was there long enough for Keegan to feel the softness, the warmth, the sweet hint of chocolate. “Merry Christmas, Keegan.”

“Merry Christmas, Samantha.” She watched as Sammi turned and headed in the opposite direction. She watched the movement of her shoulders, the sway of her hips. She watched for a long time, until Sammi’s voice rang out in the quiet of the night.

“Stop staring at my ass.”

Keegan burst out laughing.