The Plight Before Christmas(28)

I barely slept. The mattress was comfortable enough, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Whitney, who was sleeping just two floors up. I denied my own sleep with thoughts of her like some needy fucking teenage boy, which has me second-guessing my decision to come here.

I sleep like a rock at home.

Being amongst her family last night, I was oddly comfortable, even with the inquisition. It was Whitney who squirmed the whole time, refusing to acknowledge we ever dated, existed. I’d managed a little snooze with Peyton before Thatch took him from me and told me I could go back to bed. Even then, I stared out the window at the early morning sky, appreciating the peace of the area. Briefly, I entertained the thought of buying a place out here of my own, which is odd because I’m a short-term lease man. Already this trip, seeing her after over a decade and a half, is starting to fuck with me. I came here for a reason, aside from selfish curiosity, and I’m determined to see it through.

Denied after several attempts to help Ruby with breakfast, I sit at the table, scrolling through the emails on my phone. It’s the rumble on the stairs that grabs my attention. I look up to see Gracie flying towards the table, her parents behind her looking a little sleep-deprived. My new partner in crime in the arms of the woman behind them, taking feeble steps toward the table, eyes cast down. The sight of Whitney in nothing but sweats, without a trace of clown makeup, blonde hair in a loose, fast braid activates my tunnel vision.

She’s still so fucking beautiful.

I love the added weight on her, the curve in her frame, which I can make out even though she’s using her nephew as a shield. As clearly as I see her, the gnawing in my gut says she doesn’t, at all, want me to. Where did my confident, sexy, mouthy bee go? Has so much happened to her in the time that’s passed that she lost a healthy amount of it?

She’s in her element here, in this cabin, or she should be. Is my presence making her so uncomfortable that she doesn’t feel at ease around her own family? The thought grates on me as she avoids my gaze.

When we dated, her family was a subject that came up often. Her antic’s always starting with “My sister this,” or “my brother” that.

Then, I was a newly orphaned twenty-one-year-old, the scar from my parent’s loss barely turning from crimson red to a paler shade of pink when I met her. And though I told her I was okay with her endless stories, all things Collins family, at times, the green-eyed monster would come out.

Because I was jealous.

Insanely jealous of her family dynamic. So much so I was an asshole to her for it at times, and she never knew why.

Hindsight is a bitch slapping the hell out of me right now as I take her demeanor in. This is the life she wanted, a family life, with me, though she never put a voice to it. But Whitney didn’t hint around it either. She bulldozed it into my brain by constantly reiterating her unwavering affection for her family.

All I know is the girl she was then, and I have only caught traces of her. This woman before me seems…jaded and a little defeated, a stark contrast to the girl who ran me over in college. She said she’d had a rough couple of weeks, and that I understand because… life. Still, I would love a glimpse of the cocky girl I fell for. If only she would give me a chance to get within a foot of her.

“Lie!” Peyton exclaims when he spots me, fighting his aunt’s hold and reaching for me. This does not go over well with the aunt.

“Good Morning,” I say to all of them as they take seats at the table.

“Brenden, Erin, get the lead out!” Ruby calls upstairs.

A chime sounds throughout the house, and a dinner bell rings over the Alexas—which I learned through Brenden’s bitching—that Allen has strategically placed in every room of the cabin.

Alexa: Announcement: “SOOOOOUUUUIIIIEEE!! Come get your bacon, kids. Breakfast is served.”

“Oh my God,” Brenden protests as he reaches the landing of the stairs with Wyatt in his arms. “Who in the hell taught Dad how to use Alexa?”

Whitney points to Thatch, who winces. “My bad.”

We all hear Allen instructing Alexa from wherever he is in the house. Another announcement sounds.

Alexa: Announcement: “Eat up and be ready in thirty. We’re heading out.”

Brenden projects his voice as they enter the dining room. “We can hear you yelling into the fancy tech contraption, Dad, so cut it out. Mom, please tell me there’s coffee.”

“Get it yourself, brat. I’m cooking.”

“I’ve got you, babe,” Erin says to Brenden before turning to me with a soft, “Morning, Eli.”

“Morning,” I reply. Erin and Brenden’s personalities are a complete contrast to the other, the very definition of yin and yang. Where Brenden is opinionated and intense, Erin is laid back and soft-spoken, and yet they work, or they seem to.

Ruby enters from the kitchen and sets down a platter of bacon and eggs, her expression warming as she scans her children and grandchildren as they set up highchairs and huddle around the table. “Toast is coming.”

Only Whitney acknowledges her as the rest of the table remains distracted.

“Looks good, Mom. Thank you. I would’ve helped.”

“Eli offered half a dozen times already. Don’t fret. It’s a simple breakfast,” she assures with a hand on Whitney’s shoulder before heading back into the kitchen.