A Wright Christmas - K.A. Linde Page 0,56

wanted to have a Christmas lay and go back to being indifferent to everything. I was only interesting right now because I’d been gone. And likely…because my mind and heart were set elsewhere. Now, I was a challenge.

“No, thanks. I’m going to get sushi and veg out. Thanks for the offer though,” I said with a polite smile and then left him gawking at my refusal.

God, I missed Isaac.

I looked down at my phone as I left Lincoln Center behind. No messages. Of course, I couldn’t expect him to text me after what I’d done. I clutched it tight to my chest to keep myself from making that first move.

It was easier this way…better. Even if everything felt like it was crumbling down around me. A destruction of my own making.

25

Isaac

“Grandma! Look what Santa brought me!” Aly cried as soon as my parents entered the house.

“Wow, Aly Cat,” my mom said. “Is that Elsa and Anna?”

“Yes!” Aly said triumphantly. “It’s what I wanted.”

“That’s so lucky.”

My dad patted me on the shoulder as he came inside and then took a seat on the couch to survey the disaster that was my home post-Christmas presents. My mom busied herself with Aly as she explained every single toy she’d received.

Annie filed in last. “Hey, big bro. How are you doing?”

I shrugged and shut the door. Peyton had been gone for five days. I hadn’t heard a peep from her. Of course, I didn’t expect to. She had made herself clear. We were over, and whatever we’d had was just a fantasy. Not real life.

“We brought over the rest of the presents,” my mom said.

Aly clapped. “More presents! Yay!”

“At least she’s having a good day,” Annie said thoughtfully.

“Had to make it special for her. She deserves it,” I told her.

If nothing else, life with Aly was exactly the same. That was the thing about being a parent. It was a twenty-four/seven kind of job that never ceased or changed, no matter what happened in your life.

No matter if I was a fucking mess and just wanted to drink whiskey and fall into oblivion.

“Come into the kitchen with me,” Annie said.

She guided my shoulder that direction, and I followed her easily.

“What’s up?” I asked, pouring myself another large cup of coffee.

“I found something while I was at Mom and Dad’s this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” But when I turned back around to look at her, I frowned at what was in her hand. “Why do you have that?”

“Well, I was going through our old stuff. Do you know how much junk you still have at their place? You should really go through it.”

“Get to the point, Annie,” I muttered.

She laughed and then bit her lip. “Anyway, I found a bunch of your stuff from high school, and there was this picture.”

I knew which one it was before she even passed it to me.

Peyton and I were sixteen. I’d just gotten my first car, which was a hulking beast of a truck that only worked half the time. We drove it down to the lake at Ransom Canyon to visit friends. Someone—I couldn’t even remember who—took a picture of us standing in front of the truck with the lake and the canyon in the background. We weren’t looking at the camera, but at each other. I had my arm around her shoulders. She was laughing at something I’d said, and I…I looked at her like she was sunlight after a dark winter. She had been my very existence.

I set the picture facedown on the counter. “You probably shouldn’t go through my things.”

“Isaac, come on,” Annie muttered. “You didn’t even read the back.”

“I don’t need to,” I said.

I ignored my coffee and went to the cabinet where I held the whiskey instead. I poured myself a shot and then downed it without looking back.

Of course I knew what the back said. Peyton had printed the picture and given it to me to keep in my locker when we went back to school for junior year. I’d looked at it every day for a full year.

I love you. I’ll always love you. Nothing can come between us.

—Pey

The message felt futile now. It had seemed true when she gave it to me as a kid, but now…it was obvious that things had come between us. Were still coming between us. And it was pointless.

“It’s over, Annie. I don’t need reminders about it right now,” I muttered.

“You know, I liked it better at the soccer game on Sunday when you were pissed