Missing Christmas by Kate Clayborn

Author:Kate Clayborn [Clayborn, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2019-09-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

KRISTEN

December 23

I wake up alone.

I’m curled on the love seat, a pillow tucked under my head and a blanket from the pile Jasper brought in last night draped over me. I sit up quickly, looking toward the bed, knowing already I’ll find it unmade—if Jasper had woken up in the night, he would’ve made it. And he would’ve insisted that, at the very least, I get in.

So we must’ve . . . slept together?

I rub a hand over my eyes, my hair. I’m not surprised that I was dead to the world last night—Kelly and I shared a room until she left for college, and she could literally spend an entire night loudly making playlists on her computer without me waking up—but I am surprised I was comfortable enough to fall asleep in my clothes, my makeup. I probably look like the Crypt Keeper, but I can’t summon the energy to care.

I know already that I’m not getting to Michigan today. I grew up on the west side of the Upper Peninsula, which means I know snow. I know the sound of its silence outside, the muffled quality to the air, even when you’re inside. I know the way the light changes, whether it’s gray—like it is now—or sunny. I even know the smell of it when it’s freshly fallen.

So I know it’s snowed more while I was sleeping.

I grab my phone from the coffee table, see Jasper’s watch and phone there, pause briefly to listen for him moving around in the bathroom. But—nothing. He’s brought our bags in; they sit right by the cottage’s front door, so he must be dressed and at the Dreyers’, probably using the extra time to work on Gil. I’d be mad, him on the job without me, but I can’t help thinking about the way he spoke last night, the way he talked about his family’s Christmases past. The way we’d sunk into each other, talking quietly, Jasper saying things he’s never said before. I didn’t even know he’d grown up on a ranch. Maybe he’s escaping a bit, working on the job, reestablishing some boundaries, and I certainly can understand that.

Even if I do still feel that holiday bell in my heart.

I stand and walk over to my bag, my body stiff with sleep, and take a quick glance at my phone. The screen is stacked with texts, nearly all of them from the airline: DELAY, DELAY, DELAY, CANCELLATION.

But the most recent one is from Kelly, a single line.

Your Jasper is lovely.

I stare down at it, my brows crinkling in confusion. Kelly met Jasper a couple of times when she’s been in Houston for visits, and obviously—as she reminded me last week—I talk about him a good deal. But I’m not sure what’s prompted—

Just then, the door opens, nearly hitting me in the face. “Oh!”

“Holy shit!” says Jasper, stumbling slightly across the threshold as he tries to keep hold of the various brightly colored tote bags in his hand while catching the door.

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