All or Nothing(10)

He grunted. “Tell that to my dad.”

“I will,” I promised. “If this is really what you want, I’ll be there when you tell him, and I will happily remind him that this is your life, not his.” I couldn’t handle the closeness anymore, so I extricated my hand from his and stood to put my dishes in the sink. “Ready?”

“If you are.”

Kennedy led the way out the back door and two houses over to his parents’, my second home growing up.

“Bree!” Mrs. Hale threw her arms around me the second we pushed through the side entrance to her home. She drew me into her in a hard hug. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart!”

I will not cry. I will not cry. “It’s good to see you too,” I whispered, and in my voice I could hear the tears I refused to let in my eyes. There are two kinds of family: the people who share your blood, and the people who share your life. For years, the Hales fell into the second category for me, and I had no good excuse for neglecting them.

“I hope you don’t mind me sending Kennedy to get you. I just couldn’t stand the idea of you sleeping there. Thanks for humoring an old lady.”

“I wanted to see you anyway,” I said, shaking my head. In all honestly, I was relieved she’d insisted I come over here. I hated being alone in that big house.

“I didn’t even have to physically restrain her to make her come home with me,” Kennedy said dryly.

“Of course I’m selfishly thrilled that I get you for the weekend, though I am sorry you won’t see your father.” She took my hand in one of hers and grabbed my bag with the other.

I followed her up the stairs, my heart aching at the familiar scent of the only place that ever felt like home. The hardwood floors were polished to a shine and the air smelled of fresh flowers.

“I’m sure Kennedy explained why you’ll need to share his room tonight.”





I nearly tripped over the last step and had to grab the handrail to right myself. “Um. Actually—”

“I’ll just sleep in the den, Mom,” Kennedy said behind me.

“That’s not necessary,” I said, thinking I should be the one to sleep on the couch.

Mrs. Hale misunderstood and nodded. “See, it’s no big deal, Kennedy.” Then she led the way to Kennedy’s bedroom. We followed, bringing along the elephant of awkwardness between us. “I’ll let you get settled,” she continued, putting my bag on the bed. There was something sad in her eyes.

“Listen, I know you were hoping I’d make it for Christmas. I just—” I shook my head. How many times had I gone over this conversation in my head on the plane ride over? How many platitudes had I tested, only to decide there was nothing to say? I’d been hiding from holidays in Abbott Springs since I left. Holidays made me want to come home for good, and coming home made me feel like a failure.

“Don’t you worry about it.” She took my face in both of her hands, and her eyes filled. “I hear your mom’s going to make it home for the festival this year.”

My chest filled. “Finally.” I couldn’t help but smile. Mom had promised to come back every year since the year she’d left when I was fifteen, and she’d always changed plans at the last minute, too busy in her life of glitz and glamour. Whether she was leading or chasing that life, I wasn’t sure.

Intellectually, I understood my mom was as likely to bail on Winterfest this year as she had every other year, but there was still a little girl inside me who thought maybe this was the year she’d show. It didn’t matter though. When I moved to Paris, I’d see her all the time.

“What can I get you?” Mrs. H asked. “A bedtime snack?”

“I’m craving hot chocolate,” I confessed. “I can’t find a cup of hot chocolate anywhere in New York as good as yours.”

“Of course you can’t,” she said with a smile. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

She shuffled out of the room, leaving Kennedy and me alone with our pet elephant, Mr. Awkward Pants.

We spoke at the same time. “I don’t have to—”

He put up a hand. “You’re the guest. Take the bed.”

I looked pointedly to the made-up air mattress in the corner of the room and shook my head. It didn’t matter. He’d made it more than clear that he didn’t see me that way. “You can stay in here. You know your sisters will wake you up before dawn if you sleep downstairs.”

His blue eyes grew serious, and for the four hundred and ninety-eighth time since arriving back in town a few hours ago, I wished I knew what he was thinking.