The Plight Before Christmas by Kate Stewart

Author:Kate Stewart [Stewart, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798785852396
Google: -17czgEACAAJ
Amazon: B09NSZJDMM
Goodreads: 59846849
Publisher: #PrB.rating#4.45
Published: 2021-12-16T00:00:00+00:00

“Am I an animal?” Serena asks, the Hedbanz card strapped around her forehead. Everyone replies with a resounding “Yes.”

“Am I edible?”

“Yes,” Gracie says through a giggle.

Serena turns to Thatch. “Am I furry?”

“You can be,” Thatch answers with a grin.

“Mom,” Gracie says, “you’re not playing right. Only one question per turn.”

“I’m a damn pig, aren’t I?” Serena says dryly, and I laugh at her delivery along with everyone else. I glance over at Eli, who sits at the end of the table, a pencil card strapped to his own head. He might be sitting with us, but it’s clear his mind is elsewhere as he stares blankly into the living room, unfocused on the twinkling tree. I want so much to retract my words, but every single one spoken was the truth.

People—men in particular—probably don’t realize or care that when they give the gift of unrequited love, they also victimize the families of those they leave devastated. Maybe it’s the same way with other types of heartbreak, but that was the kind I knew.

He needed to know the cat and mouse game he started when he got here has never been a game for me—at least not with him. Since he’s arrived, I’ve been caught in a whirlwind of mixed emotions, mostly envy and humiliation. Envy for the fact that he seems to have perfectly orchestrated and is effectively living the life I wanted while reminding me I haven’t. As for the humiliation, I can feel it in every one of my aching bones. When I came at him, I felt like shit, and as petty as it may have been, I wanted him to feel just as shitty—if only for a moment. More than that, I wanted to wipe the knowing smirk off his face that reminded me at one time his charm worked, but to my detriment.

Guilt is all I feel now due to his reaction and, after, his withdrawal. He was completely quiet at dinner and insisted I take the night off from the dishes due to my spill. I didn’t argue, but I watched him briefly as he scrubbed them furiously, staring down into the water, lost in thought. When I walked in with the last of the plates, having decided on an apology, he straightened his back and spoke up, refusing to look at me.

“Don’t, please, Whitney, don’t apologize to me if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m begging you.”

As if sensing my thoughts, his eyes drift over to me as I stand, back and shoulders screaming as I relinquish my headband. “I’m going to take a shower.”

I get no protest from anyone at the table before dragging myself up the stairs. Once inside the bathroom, I immerse myself under the spray, letting the heat cover my aching body. Today scared the shit out of me in more ways than one. The thought of anything happening to Peyton—hell, to anyone in my family—is my worst fear. I really don’t know how parents do it. The other fear

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