Accidentally Under Your Tree (Grand Ridge Christmas #1)

5. Lizzy

five

Lizzy

Six nights before Christmas

"That rat bastard," Shay hissed.

I flicked my eyes from side to side, ensuring the other patrons of Benji's Place couldn't overhear. The local bar was quiet even for a Thursday evening.

Thank God.

I didn't want any of the town gossips—and there were many—getting a whisper of my situation.

When I'd texted Shay to get me, I'd imagined we'd go back to her place. I pictured the two of us on her sofa as I spilled my guts and drank away my sorrows. We'd watch New Girl for the hundredth time and eat chicken wings and jalape?o poppers from her freezer. I might even let my guard down enough to cry.

It wasn't until she turned toward town instead of her house that I remembered her older brother, Rose's ex boyfriend, Lawrence, was fixing something at Shay's house.

And since my house was ground zero to the future worst moment of my life, we couldn't stay there.

Which brought us to Benji's Place so at least I could have a stiff drink while I lamented. None of the tables neighboring our booths were occupied. That didn't stop my nerves.

Strands of white lights and garlands were strung along the ceiling and down the beams on each end of the bar. They reflected off the polished wood surfaces. A mix of classic and current Christmas music played from the speakers. It could have been homey if I wasn't in the shittiest mood.

Ben, the bar's owner, would probably forgive me if I ran around tearing down lights and screaming like Veruca Salt. Although the concept of throwing a fit was appealing, facing more consequences than the ones stacked in front of me…I'd pass.

Shocked silence washed over Shay and myself after I'd finished the story. The details I was looking forward to telling her had become sharped edged and scraped painfully on my throat now that I knew. Now that I wasn't sharing the details of a whirlwind budding infatuation, but a sordid affair. She soaked up the depressing absurdity in a quiet outrage. While I sat drenched in the inevitable ramifications of my actions.

My limbs and heart were too heavy. It felt like I was sinking.

I lifted my drink to my lips, but the whiskey mixed with apple and cinnamon turned my stomach and I set it back down. "Please say something."

"About this ?" Shay's brown eyes widened. "I'm still processing."

"No, something else. Anything else."

She blew out a heavy sigh, puffing her cheeks. "Um…I can't think."

"Yeah…"

After a few beats, she said, "I posted a job to hire a new carpenter for the shop."

"Cool. Cool…"

Shay had worked at my parent's home renovation business since she graduated from college. She was slowly stepping into the role of business manager as her brother took over more project managing. Relinquishing control was hard for Mom and Dad, but they didn't want to work forever.

The only two people they might trust more with the company was me and Rose, and there was no way that was going to happen.

My phone buzzed. Our eyes snapped to it on the tabletop. A text from an unsaved number lit up by screen, Please let me explain.

The proverbial twist of the knife in my chest. On my shoulder, his teeth marks burned.

"Is that him?" Shay demanded.

I shook my head and shrugged.

She narrowed her dark brown eyes at the phone before it went black again. "Explain what, motherfucker?"

I clenched my jaw, overwhelmed by the ferocity of my thoughts and disgust. How the hell had I been so na?ve? I wanted to blame Will for everything, but I'd been the one to let my guard down. I was the one who had committed a terrible betrayal—one that I'd have to tell Rose about. She was going to hate me even more than she already did.

I was to blame for getting carried away by blind hope.

It was laughable the high I'd woken up on. Wrapped in white hotel sheets, I'd stretched with a wide smile on my face. My very first thought was of Will. It felt good to be noticed. Seen. Wanted.

I'd practically danced from room to room like a Disney Princess fallen in love with prince charming.

My phone buzzed again.

"That jackass," I mumbled through my clenched teeth.

"Block his number," Shay ordered.

"How?" I asked.

"I don't know. I'll google it."

Crossing my arms, I slouched back in my booth and tried to ignore the texts coming through. Each one was a fresh layer of hell. I flipped the phone screen side down. Phrases like I'm sorry and not real , did nothing for my mental state.

Yeah, I know it was all bullshit. I blinked back the moisture stinging my eyes.

"Okay," she began, slipping her blond ponytail over one shoulder, "it's pretty easy." Snatching my phone, she entered my four-digit passcode.

About a minute later, she slid it back in front of me. "Done."

"Thank you."

The relief threading through my system felt an awful lot like regret.

She narrowed her eyes at me before resting her fingertips on my now silent phone. "Do you want me to delete the texts he's already sent?"

"Probably should," I answered, my voice breaking on the last word.

I pinched my apple cinnamon cocktail between two fingers and downed the remaining contents. The extra shot of bourbon I'd added burned the entire way down. It was easier to swallow than my disappointment in myself and Will.

Fucking Will .

"That son of a bitch." I groaned.

"I'm sorry," Shay offered, even though she had nothing to apologize for. "I'll be with you when you tell Rose."

"You don't have to."

"I don't want you to do it alone."

If I sank any lower in the booth, I'd be laying down. "How am I gonna tell her?"

There was a band around my chest. To fill my lungs, I had to fight against it.

Across the table, Shay considered me. Her head tilted. Sympathy and kindness warmed her eyes. "Let's not think about it now. I'll text Lawrence that we'll need a ride back to my place."

I snorted. "He loves when we do that."

"He does." A sarcastic smile spread across her lips, and she lifted her empty glass, signaling to Ben behind the bar for another round.

He jerked his chin, before switching tasks to mixing our drinks. It said something about the trashy circumstances when she didn't make a comment about being thirsty for the bartender.

Time was a nebulous thing. I couldn't track it in normal increments. Instead, I judged the passing of time by the near empty drink in my hand. Despite sitting no where near the entrance, frigid wind blasted through the room when the front door swung opened. It was the kind of cold that bit past the heat pouring through the vents. But my blood turned to ice. Shay froze in her booth that turned my blood to ice. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted and her upper lip curled the slightest bit.

Without even looking, I knew.

My sister was here.