“Thanks. I will. Love you all.”
“We love you too.”
We end our phone call, and I decide to make my way back to the house. As I turn, there's a flash of red heading toward me. Olivia is running down the street, shouting my name and waving her hands in the air.
Chapter Fourteen
Olivia
“Luke, are you okay?”
I’m out of breath. Cardio is the bane of my existence, but it became necessary when I caught sight of Davis and Luke’s grandmother standing in the living room, both appearing upset, and I knew something had happened. Now I wonder if I read the situation wrong, because as Luke turns toward me, his eyes brighten, and his mouth quirks up in a grin.
“Yeah, I’m fine. No need to punish yourself with running this morning.”
I chuckle, and the heaviness in my chest eases. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I just needed some fresh air and to put a little distance between me andhim.Raine called and calmed me down a bit.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets, his lips turning into a downward slope, and a crease forms deep between his eyebrows, creating a valley that shows that his stress and worry is stillthere. He’s trying to hide it, but I can always read him like a book—most of the time, anyway.
“Oh, okay,” I say, nodding my head.
We start walking toward the house in silence. I take this moment to study the neighborhood. Every single house is decked out from top to bottom with Christmas decorations. I’ve never seen such a bright and colorful neighborhood, besides in a holiday Hallmark movie. It looks like we walked onto one of those film sets or are intruding on a photoshoot for a magazine.
I marvel loudly, trying my best to lighten the mood and cheer him up, as I point at each house, finding something that I love about them. It’s peaceful here. Cozy, even. A few people are walking their dogs and riding their bikes up and down the street. There are folks chatting with neighbors, giving us a wave as we pass by.
Luke is quiet. Seconds tick by without a response from him. A car door slams. Neighbors are mingling and chatting. A train horn blares faintly in the distance. The wind blows hard against us. A bird sings from a branch nearby. Still, he says nothing.
We stop in front of his grandmother’s house, on the sidewalk that leads to the front door. I look up, taking in the tall house before us, admiring the lights and wreaths. If it snows while we’re here, the magic of this place will intensify.
“If I wasn’t in the Christmas spirit before, I sure am now.” It comes out breathier than I intended, a puff of words and syllables crashing into each other.
Luke looks down at me, and his expression softens. His eyes lighten, a grin causing the dimple to pop in his left cheek. He exhales, his shoulders falling away from his ears, and it warms me from the inside, like the first sip of hot cider, knowing that I was able to take some of his stress away.
“This place always feels like we’ve walked inside of a Christmas card.”
“Or are we really inside one of those Christmas villages?”My smile brightens at the thought. “Okay, now I really want to live in a Christmas village one day.”
Luke laughs and holds out his hand, waiting for mine. I hesitate, only for a moment, before I slip my hand into his. His hand is much larger than mine, and I welcome the warmth.
I’m paying close attention to how his fingers link through mine, giving them a slight squeeze, his thumb rubbing a few circles over the back of my hand. It feels like the way he would hold the hand of a woman he’s seeing. And in a way, he kind of is. As we reach the front door, he pulls me closer to him. I don’t resist this time, because we have a show to put on.
“Come on,Buddy,” he says, using the nickname I’ve earned every holiday season.
“Right behind you,Grinch.”
“Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” by *NSYNCis playing over the speakers, per Jerrica’s request. We’re both singing, bumping our hips together, as we help clean up the dining room after breakfast. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Beckett family, it’s that they know how to eat.
“How’s Luke doing?” Jerrica whispers in my ear before she bends down to grab another plate.
“He seems like he’s fine,” I say honestly, weaving around the table and making my way into the kitchen.
She follows close behind me and adds, “I heard his run-in with my uncle didn’t go as smoothly as everyone had hoped.”
I chew the inside of my lip, unsure of what to say because I also missed the encounter. Luke seemed okay during our walk this morning—quiet, but still like himself. I open my mouth to say something, but the song “All I Want for Christmas is You” starts playing over the speakers, and it’s as ifJerrica and I can’t help ourselves but to sing and dance along to the song.
Near the end of the song, I catch sight of Luke, much like I had this morning, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He’s wearing a long-sleeve cream-colored shirt that makes his skin look a shade darker. I rush over to him and take his hands into mine, encouraging him to jump up and down with me or to sing the lyrics, but all he does is shake his head.
