Page 61 of Shadow Secrets
“Two nights ago, after you went to sleep. We talked for about ninety minutes.”
Sutton’s hand paused again. She lifted the needle. “Ninety minutes?”
“She asked about you.”
“She—” Sutton sucked in her bottom lip. “Is that good or bad?”
“She’s read the tabloids, watched the cable segments, and formed her own opinions.” He tilted his head enough to meet her eyes. “She claims that the tabloids are trash, that I should have called her weeks ago, and that you sound like the best thing that’s happened to me since I was nine years old and asked Santa for a dog.”
“Aw, you got a dog?”
“Dad said dogs ruined rugs. I didn’t get the dog.”
“So I’m better than no dog.”
“You’re better than the entire zoological kingdom. Oh, and Charlotte texted and said to tell you hi. She wants the Warrior Raven print for her office.”
She laughed softly. He watched her blink hard and pretend she was concentrating on the whisker she was putting on the lynx, instead of feeling overwhelmed by the fact that his mom and sister were accepting her. Watched her get her composure back the way she always did—steady, stubborn, Sutton.
“We’re inviting her for Christmas,” she said. “Both of them. All of them.”
He froze. The needle paused on his skin, her hand going still in response to his muscles locking. “We are?”
“Yes. My mom, too. And Dom. And everyone else, really—whoever’s available. We’re going to have a tree. The biggest tree you can find. And a Christmas Eve party.”
“A Christmas Eve party,” he echoed slowly.
“In our farmhouse. In our living room, which I will have redecorated by then, so prepare yourself.” She leaned back and examined her work. Her tone was casual. Her eyes weren’t. “When was the last time you had a proper Christmas, Lynx?”
He thought about it. The answer was easy, which made it worse. “Six years ago.”
“Exactly. We’ve both spent each one since alone. Or trying to pretend we didn’t notice it was happening. I spent last Christmas in my apartment with a frozen pizza and a bottle of red wine, listening to the laundromat not run for once.” Her voice caught for half a second. “This is the new us. Our future together. No more being alone on holidays.”
She bent over his side. The needle resumed.
He thought of his mother’s voice on the phone—thin, hesitant at first, opening up as the call went on, apologizing twice for things she’d never apologized for before. He thought of his sister Charlotte texting him: Mom told me about Sutton. When do I get to meet her? I’m flying out over New Year’s, whether you invite me or not.
He thought of Dom on bed rest, gaunt and sharp-eyed and furious about not being back full-time yet.
Vivi, who he suspected would refuse to come to a Christmas Eve party as a guest and instead arrive hours early with multiple casseroles and commandeer the kitchen. CB and Regan and Regan’s mother, Lucy. CB’s Outlaws. Garrett and Claire. Mack and Alyssa. Maybe he could even convince Jasper to come.
The farmhouse would be full. Full of people. Full of voices. Full of the kind of noise he’d spent six years moving to Montana to avoid.
He realized, lying there, that he wanted it. All of it. A family. “Okay,” he said.
Sutton glanced at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. A big tree and a Christmas Eve party.”
“I’m going to make a list.”
“Of course you are.”
“With spreadsheets.”
She worked in silence for another twenty minutes, the needle’s hum filling the parlor, the afternoon light shifting from gold to amber as the sun dropped toward the mountains.
When she finally pulled back and set the machine on the tray, her face had that satisfied, distant quality it got when she finished a piece. Like she was still half inside the drawing, reluctant to emerge.
