Christmas Blues by Leigh Jarrett

Author:Leigh Jarrett [Jarrett, Leigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steambath Press
Published: 2019-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

The mayhem of a Middleton Thanksgiving dinner would have typically made me smile. The family room was lit up with premature Christmas tree lights, music, and the laughter of family.

Sam had found his way down the mountain to be with us this year, intending to stay until Christmas. He'd taken up residence in my guest room for the night, promising to move to my parents house in the morning. A relocation that eased my discomfort somewhat.

Despite the fact Sam was my brother, it felt like he was intruding. The room he was staying in, the one directly across the hall from my own, had been Michael's when he'd stayed overnight with his kids. Having my brother in it reminded me how much I wished it was occupied by someone else. It had taken a great deal of effort to erase the memory of Michael's voice radiating up from the kitchen as he prepared breakfast.

Who was I kidding? It still haunted me. We hadn't spoken since that night—the night when we'd obliterated the line—and destroyed our friendship.

"Are you all right?" Janice asked me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You've been in a funk all week."

"Tired, that's all."

"Are you sure? You can talk to me, you know."

"I know, but I'm fine." I turned around and offered her a weak smile. "Honestly."

"I don't believe you."

"That's your prerogative." I reached for the oven mitts and opened the oven door. The turkey only had another thirty minutes according to the timer, but I wanted to check its temperature. One of the things Rebecca had passed on to me before she died was how to plan and implement a large family dinner with turkey and all the fixings. She would've been proud of me.

This Thanksgiving was supposed to have been different. I'd been all geared up for Michael to help me with dinner, imagining all sorts of scenarios where we'd end up in each other's arms again—his lips meeting mine for the first time—sweet and soft.

That was behind me now.

The image obliterated—sullied by what we'd done.

"Talk to me."

"Drop it, Janice. I'm fine."

"Ryan—"

My phone rang from where I'd set it on the counter. I closed the oven door and threw my gloves onto the counter. The call display lit up with the name Mikey. I chose to ignore it. I'd even considered removing Michael's number from my phone completely.

Our relationship was ruined.

There was no point dragging the inevitable out any longer.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Janice asked, attempting to hand me my phone. "Ryan, come on, it's Michael." She crossed her arms, still holding my phone. It stopped ringing. "Did you two have an argument or something? Is that why you're in such a bad mood?"

The phone started ringing again.

"Something like that, yeah."

"You should talk to him."

"I don't want to talk to him."

"Don't be such an ass." Janice shoved the phone into my hand. "Talk to him."

I exhaled an exasperated sigh and gave in to my sister's insistence, accepting the call.

"Hey."

"Ryan," was all Michael said in response, his voice rough, deep, and pure.

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