Page 31 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

How could I ever leave you, Leo?

An hour later, Sam tapped my shoulder, smiling, and nodded to Leo, who had apparently passed out, head drooped against Sam’s arm. Leo’s ice cream bowl was licked clean, and it wobbled with his heavy breathing on the gingerbread blanket covering his lap.

I picked up the bowl and placed it with mine on the decoupage end table before carefully peeling off the blanket. Sam inched away far enough to turn his body, and in one smooth motion, he stood and lifted Leo, carrying him slowly out of the den while I walked ahead, making sure no bright lights were left on.

Sam carried him all the way up the stairs without straining once and held on to him as I took off his elf slippers and pulled back the quilt and sheet of his bed. Sam laid him down and pulled the covers up to his chin before tucking them in snuggly at his sides the way he liked it. My heart squeezed.

I wouldn’t have to ask Sam to look after Leo.

Sam looking after Leo was as second nature to him as Sam looking after me.

He backed away from Leo’s bed, and after I closed his door most of the way, we crept back down the hallway, avoiding the squeaky spot near the top right of the stairs as we headed back to the den.

“Something about the booby-trapping of the house always tires him out,” Sam said, chuckling under his breath as we cleared the bowls and brought them to the kitchen.

“I know.” I ran water into each of them. “I always feel bad because he gets so excited about Kevin’s big plan drawn out on paper, but he never actually sees how it works. Guess it’s for the best, though. We’d have to skip the scene with the tarantula on the guy’s face.”

“True.” Sam wandered over to our fridge, covered with family Polaroids. “You know at the beginning when Kevin’s family is running throughout the house and the fake cop is all irritated?” He brought a hand up and righted a photo that was crooked. “Is that how it feels to have that much family around you all the time?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” I dried my hands on one of the snowman towels hanging on the oven before joining him. “You don’t realize how that noise becomes a part of you, part of your routine, till you’re alone for a bit. Don’t get me wrong, the quiet is great, but it does get old after a while.”

“That is something I do get.” His voice sounded smaller, almost distant.

I turned to him.

Sam didn’t have extended family anywhere nearby, and something always got in the way when what little family he did have planned to visit.

But he seemed so happy here working with his parents, helping the town.

It never occurred to me that someone like him, someone surrounded by a sea of people, could, in fact, be lonely.

Sam fixed another photo, one of me sitting on my dad’s lap while he read the paper, and then wordlessly went back into the den. I followed him, but before I could ask more about what he’d said in the kitchen, he motioned to the movie still on pause. “Did you…did you want to finish it?”

Had it always been this dark in here?

My mouth had suddenly gone dry, but I swallowed anyway. “S-sure.”

Why are you stuttering?

This is Sam. Your best friend.

In your den.

Where you’ve hung out with him a million-plus times.

But the kaleidoscope that was my stomach said something different when we settled next to each other on the couch, and Sam threw the banket over both of our legs. One of my socked feet touched his as he hit play, and I didn’t move it.

And neither did he.

Okay, so our feet are touching.

Totally normal for friends sharing a blanket.

In a dimly lit, Christmas-cozy room.

“I always feel bad that he never got to eat that mac ’n’ cheese.” Sam’s voice was low and soft. “Such a travesty.”

“Truly regrettable.” I pulled a pillow onto my lap and rested my arm on it just as Sam put his arm on his lap. Our elbows touched, and neither of us moved them.