Naughty or Nice

14. Rora

14

RORA

DECEMBER 18

I pull out my phone to text Henry that I’m here, but a knock on the window scares the shit out of me. I jump, dropping my phone on my lap, and look up into Kate’s excited face . So much for picking Henry up without the Whittens spotting me. How am I going to explain this?

I roll down the window. “Hey.”

“Hi, honey. Can you unlock the trunk? I have a bag.”

“Um … sure?” I press the button to unlock the trunk, peering over my shoulder, trying to see what she has.

Kate sets two large grocery totes in the trunk, but I can’t tell what’s in them.

“It’s just some extra blankets and candles in case you lose power. You know how cold it can get on the mountain. Oh, and a bunch of snacks and some meals you can cook on the fire if you get stuck. Trust me, you don’t want to deal with a hangry Henry.”

Well, I suppose I don’t have to explain it after all.

“That’s great. Thank you,” I say as Kate rounds the car and leans in the window.

“You’re welcome, honey. Have the best time; Henry’s going to love it. Oh, and don’t worry about Charlie. He just needs a little time to process. I know you’re not really our baby, but we’ve always considered you one of our own; you know that. It’s hard for him to admit you’re all grown up. We just love you so much.”

What the fuck have I missed ?

“I love you, too,” I reply because it seems like the safest reply, considering I have no context for what she’s saying.

Kate waves, and I reach into the footwell to retrieve my phone. Before I can text him, though, Henry appears, sliding into the passenger’s side and tossing his bags in the back seat. He closes his eyes and breathes a heavy sigh, immediately grasping my thigh tightly like he just needs to touch me.

I take a second to look over his profile, backlit by the five billion Christmas lights on the Whitten house. He’s ethereally beautiful, and I want to ease every knot of tension from him. How the hell am I supposed to walk away from him in a few weeks?

I place my hand on top of his, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. “You okay?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Better now.”

“I hear Charlie took it well.”

A humorless smile crosses Henry’s face, and he opens his eyes, turning his head to look at me. “He took it about as well as expected. He’s protective of you. They all are. I’m glad you have them.”

“I am too.” I bring Henry’s hand to my lips, kissing his palm. “But he doesn’t have to worry. This is you we’re talking about.”

I want to say, He’ll come around . He’ll get used to it . Give him time. But what time? In a few weeks, Henry and I will be on different continents, and the only people still thinking about our little winter fling will be us. I’m sure it won’t take Henry long to forget it; he’ll meet other people while traveling for his new job—smiley, sparkly people who love Christmas and?—

“Sugar?”

I startle, looking up at Henry. “Sorry. I zoned out. Let’s go.” I put the car in drive before I can spiral again, pulling out onto the snow-dusted street.

“What are you thinking about?”

I consider lying, feigning tiredness or hunger, but if Henry and I only get a short time together, I don’t want to spend it pretending. “ I’m just thinking about what happens when we both leave town,” I admit, and Henry’s eyes soften into warm pools of blue. “It’s stupid. Time is going to pass no matter how much I want to slow it down, and it’s only going to pass faster if I’m thinking about what’s coming.”

“That’s true,” Henry agrees as we pass through the town center, lights blurring as snowflakes hit the windows and turn to slush. “But if it helps, I’ve been thinking about it too.”

I glance quickly to the side. Henry is staring straight ahead, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Do you know when you’re leaving?” It’s the question I’ve been avoiding since we got home from Jackson and I asked him to come in.

“Not yet,” Henry replies, his voice catching. He clears his throat. “My boss said it would be a few weeks before she knows where they’re sending me first. Mid-January, most likely.”

If he doesn’t find out until mid-January, he probably won’t be leaving until the end of the month. It’s longer than I expected, undoing a few of the thorny knots in my chest.

“What about you?”

“I guess that’s the benefit of freelance—I get to decide. I’ll reach out to some of my contacts when we know what’s happening with your start date. I’m not leaving before you do.”

Henry squeezes my knee. “We have plenty of time before that.” That feels like an exaggeration, but pointing it out helps no one.

We stop to pick up the Thai food I called in before packing, and in no time at all, we’re flying past the Thanks for visiting Wintermore! sign.

Henry looks over at me. “I thought we were going to your favorite place in Wintermore?”

“It technically is; it’s just not in town,” I explain, turning onto the mountain road. It’s the kind of road that starts on a slow incline and then suddenly feels like you’re driving straight up .

The car lurches and Henry curses, grabbing the handle. “Fucking hell. Is this safe?”

“If you’re used to it.”

“That better mean you are,” Henry says, a white-knuckle grip on my thigh.

No complaints from me .

“I’ve been driving here since before I had my learner’s permit,” I promise him, telling him about my mom teaching me the basics of handling a car, in the grocery store parking lot after closing when I was thirteen. Before long, I was driving her up the mountain so she could keep an eye on the surrounding trees for any flickers of wildlife. I swear she can spot a mouse from a mile away. This is one of the few parts of the mountain untouched by Wintermore’s Christmas tourism because the road is so treacherous.

The higher we climb, the deeper the snow is. I wouldn’t attempt this drive in any other car, but my mom picked this one specifically to handle the mountains in winter. This is her favorite time to shoot, and I make a mental note to send her some pictures when we arrive. Like me, my parents avoid Wintermore like the plague at this time of year; I can’t remember the last time they saw the snow here.

I turn off the main road, the car bouncing over the uneven terrain. Henry squints out of the window, but there’s not much to see; it’s pitch black aside from the headlights shining ahead.

“I promise it’ll be worth the mystery when you see it in the daylight,” I tell him, slowing the car to take it around a sharp bend.

It’s not the first time I’ve driven this road in the dark, but it’s not my preference. I know it like the back of my hand, but there’s no guarantee a tree hasn’t fallen over the road since I was here last spring.

Our cabin is only a mile up the path, but it’s slow going over the snow. I finally park the car, deliberately angling the headlights toward the cabin so Henry has some idea of where we’re staying.

He undoes his seatbelt and leans forward, a smile stretching over his face. “Holy shit. This looks like a postcard.”

“Just wait until you see the view in the morning. And you don’t even know the best part yet.”