Christmas Therapy

Heather grabbed more tinsel and threw it at him. He charged at her, only making her hop around the coffee table.

“I can’t believe you would attack an injured patient.”

“We’re past protocol.”

He threw more silver strands at her and Heather plopped on her couch, missing Tinsel by his tail. The dog jumped off the sofa as she shielded herself f

rom the flying tinsel. Heather’s belly laugh made him laugh all the more. When she raised her hands in surrender, he stopped.

Heather wrapped her arms around herself as Allen shook off the remaining tinsel from his shoulders. When was the last time he had this much fun at Christmas? Could it be like this again?

He chuckled. “I guess I win.” He then sat next to her on the sofa.

“You only won because I physically can’t take anymore.” She looked over and pointed at him. “You knew that didn’t you?”

On impulse, he reached out and grabbed the few strands of tinsel in her hair. He heard her breath hitch with his hand so close to her face. Heather's gaze locked on him, with her eyes glossing over and softening. Her beauty broke on him like some rare jewel.

It would be so easy to stroke her cheek. How supple would it be? Would she lean into his touch or would she pull away? A period of stillness and quiet passed between them. Could she see into his heart with those coal eyes of hers?

Allen's gaze dropped to her lips once more just as she licked them. His senses dulled. He was close enough to touch her, but that was a line he couldn’t cross. Professionalism was key. Was that the only reason or were other warning sirens ringing in his ears?

“Should we light the tree?” she asked.

Allen cleared his throat, ignoring the hair rising on his neck. “Sure.”

Heather straightened on the couch, peeling off the tinsel on her clothes.

Allen then bent to the floor to plug in the tree. “Ready?”

She clapped her hands. “Yes, please.”

He smiled at her enthusiasm. “Okay.” He knelt to the ground, grabbing the plug. He only heard her groan once he plugged it in the wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Try it again. The lights aren’t coming on.”

He did as she asked, only to hear her exhale. Allen stood to stare at the tree. “How long have you had these bulbs?”

She folded her arms. “A while.”

“Longer than a year?” he asked.

She twisted her mouth as a response.

“Heather?”

She shrugged. “They're my favorite ones.”

“I think you need new lights,” he said.

“Just great.” Then a smile built on her face. “You don’t suppose we can take a trip to the store?”

Allen shook his head and walked over to the table for his bag. “No, I’m not doing that. I’ve already helped with the tree.”

“I can’t ask my Mom. She won’t have it and my sister will only tell my Mom,” she said.

“Scared of your Mom?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No.”