That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe (Abieville Love Stories #4)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Sara

As Three and I hobble through the front door, I have one arm wrapped around his washboard abs, and he’s got his body slung over my shoulder. I can tell he’s trying not to put his full weight on me, but the guy’s pretty heavy anyway. Luckily, Nurse Mary gave him a spare pair of clean scrubs, so we managed a little vomit triage back at the hospital. But the rest of his clothes are either smoky or they smell like antiseptic soap. Nevertheless, I’m determined to handle whatever he throws at me.

Unless it’s a fire extinguisher.

Speaking of which.

I glance across the dining room through the archway into the newly remodeled kitchen, and my stomach twists at how close I came to torching this place. It’s a one-hundred-year-old farmhouse, sitting on two acres of lakefront property. There are three bedrooms, two baths, and a den-slash-office-slash library. The original hardwood floors have been refinished. All the moldings, bead board, and chair rails sport fresh coats of paint or stain. The covered porch is quaint and cozy with cushioned Adirondack chairs and hurricane lamps. Everything’s perfect, just waiting for Platinum Home’s stamp of approval.

And I almost burned it all down.

I give the still-smoky air a good long sniff as Three and I lurch together past the coffee table. “Sorry this place stinks like burnt reindeer napkins,” I say, gently extricating myself from him.

Three lowers himself onto the couch. “I like barbecues.”

His statement doesn’t make total sense to me, but then again, neither did mine. At least he isn’t slurring nearly as much as he was earlier. Maybe the pain meds are starting to wear off. Still, neither one of us needs a reminder of what got us into this mess in the first place.

I nod toward the kitchen. “I’ll get everything cleaned up and back to normal while you’re in a bath.”

“Bath?” He pulls a face. “I’m really more of a shower guy.”

“Unfortunately, you’re not supposed to get your stitches wet.”

He blinks up at me. “Stitches?”

“On the back of your head.”

“Huh.” He reaches up and touches the bandage. “I don’t remember getting stitches.”

“Exactly.” I cross my arms. “That’s why I’m in charge.”

He tips his chin. “I’m pretty sure I could shower without getting my head wet.”

“Maybe so. But Mary said you’re still at risk of dizzy spells.” I widen my stance to defend my decision. “If you fall in the shower, not only could you injure yourself even more, but I’d have to haul your naked body out and?—”

“Got it!” Three throws a hand up. “No naked hauling.”

I toss him a crooked smile. Hopefully this cooperation will continue, and Three will never have to know how much I dread being near him. On the other hand, I don’t want to get along with him too well, either. That will only make saying goodbye harder. And I’ve already done hard goodbyes when it comes to Three .

“Do you want to call your parents to let them know what’s going on?” I ask. “Or your sister?”

Your girlfriend?

My insides heave, even as the thought crosses my mind. Of course Three could be in a relationship. I mean, just look at the man. He’s gotten even more gorgeous over the past decade. And I’ll bet any current woman of his dreams never gave him a concussion while trying to bake brownies.

“My brain’s too foggy to talk to anyone.” Three winces, running a hand along the top of his skull. “My mom will figure out something’s wrong and insist on staying home to play nursemaid. I really don’t want her to miss out on the cruise. My dad either. Or Nella. They all deserve this vacation.”

My shoulders creep up, like guilt is making them float. “Your family’s going to find out what happened eventually.”

“Hopefully not before they board the plane.” He slips his phone from his pocket. “By then it will be too late.” He squints down at the screen, shaking his head. “Could you text them for me? I can’t focus right now.”

“I guess,” I say, but my throat goes dry. “I really hate lying, though.”

“Same.” His teeth clench, then he shifts his jaw back and forth. “Just … Sara … Please?” He gazes up at me, his eyes wide and pleading. Like two baby bluebirds in a nest begging for a worm.

Wait. Does that make me the worm?

Yep. A worm who got us into this mess.

“All right.” I sigh, taking his phone and dropping down beside him. “Who should I text first?”

“We have a family group thread,” he says. “Search for Original Fuller House.”

“Fuller house?” I eye him sideways. “Like the TV show?”

“Nella was obsessed with the Tanners when we were kids.” He lets out a puff of a laugh, and I almost smile too. But when I open the thread, the evidence of the closeness between Three and his family only sharpens the knife of my guilty conscience.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask, despite the lump in my throat.

“Hey … fam,” he begins to dictate. “Before I get too far into winter break mode … I’m going to … no, I want to … no, I think I should finish up my progress reports.” He’s speaking slowly, like he’s dealing with a head injury. Which he is. “Go with that last option,” he says. “The thinking one. That’s honest enough, right? I mean, I could be thinking about finishing my progress reports. Just talking about finishing my progress reports means my brain’s thinking about them.”

“You’re right.” I nod when I’ve caught up. “Go on. I’m ready for more.”

“I know you all want to get to the airport a couple hours before the flight,” he continues, “so … Kenny can just drop me off when I’m done.” Three pauses again. “That’s something else that could happen too. Kenny’s totally capable of taking me to the airport. So yeah. We’re still not lying. Technically.”

“Sure.” These are basically semantics sidestepping the whole truth, but if that makes Three feel better, I guess he’ll be easier to be around until the doctor clears him to be alone. Hopefully on Tuesday. Today’s Saturday, so I just have to get through a couple more days. I can do that. Probably.

“Are you done?” I ask, glancing at him.

“No. Add this.” He holds up a finger. “Don’t wait for me when you get through security. Just head straight to the gate. I’ll see you soon.”

At this I can’t help frowning. “You’ll see them soon ?”

“Soon is relative.” He lets out a little snort. “And so are they. MY relatives, I mean. Except they’re not mean. They’re nice.”

Soooo, okay . Three may not be slurring anymore, but he’s definitely still … groggy. Under the circumstances, though, I suppose I should just be grateful. He could be super-sad. Or super-angry with me. He is missing Christmas with his family after all .

“Okay.” I hit send. “Done.”

Three slumps back against the couch. “Thank you, Sara.” My name falls out of his lips all soft and slow and drowsy.

“No big deal,” I say, but my cheeks heat up. I shouldn’t let him affect me like this. No, I can’t let him affect me. I barely survived the rift in my soul ten years ago. And yes, we’re older now, but I’m wiser too. If I’m going to get out of this situation with my emotions intact, I’ll need to keep my wits about me.

You’ll need to keep a close watch on him overnight , the nurse’s voice echoes in my head.

Yeah. Thanks a lot, Hairy.

“Here.” I push Three’s phone back into his hands, and hop up from the couch. “Just sit tight while I get your bath ready. Ford should be here soon with your suitcase.” Three nods like a compliant kid, then he lets his eyes slip shut. With the bandage wrapped around him, he looks so innocent. Almost fragile. Which is ironic considering how broken he made me feel the last time we were together.

“Sara?” he murmurs, with his lids still closed.

“What?”

“I like it really hot.”

Gah! My throat constricts, and I gag a little on my spit. “Excuse me?”

“The water,” he says. “I like it really hot. Hot enough to turn my skin red.”

His voice is deep and dreamy, and there go my cheeks again. Oh man. My heart might not stay in one piece through the rest of the night, let alone a few more days.