Oh Snowy Night

I won’t be going to any family festivities this year. They can all suck it. Their holidays are going to be lame without me there to make the day shine with all of my holiday cheer. Christmas is my holiday. I do all the work. I make sure to bring everyone together. I know it’s because I feel like the odd one out. My dad married a woman who had two daughters and a son. My mom is out of the picture. She’s been that way my entire life. I think my dad was trying to make us a family but really I kind of got lost in the shuffle even though I worked hard at trying to make myself fit in.

I look forward to Christmas every year and I can’t help but think that my stepsister made sure she had this whole big explosion with her sleeping with my boyfriend happen over Thanksgiving on purpose. I just got up and walked out. Worse, my own father didn’t chase after me. No one did. All I heard was yelling and screaming over a boyfriend that super sucked anyway. I only went out with him because Trish begged me to do it.

“Not in this weather you’re not.” He drops his arms that are folded across his chest. “Your cat is already asleep and the sun is setting.”

“She’s always asleep.” I bat my hand her way. She doesn’t normally sleep on dogs though. She likes to sit in her hammock at my apartment and hiss at them as they pass on the street below. Now she has made a bed of one. “Besides. You don’t look too excited for me to stay the night. You didn’t even laugh at my joke about staying here for the night,” I say, even though I wasn’t really joking. I fold my arms over my chest, pretending that I’m offended.

“’Cause it wasn’t a joke.” With that, he heads out the front door, leaving me standing there. I follow him out but stop when I get to the door, realizing I don’t have any of my winter gear on and it’s freezing. I watch as he starts pulling things from my car and bringing them inside.

“What are you doing? I don’t need all of this for one night.”

“Better to have it in here. Your doors might freeze shut,” he tells me before he’s out the door again. I watch as he brings everything in. It takes almost five trips.

“How did you get so much shit in that little car?”

“It’s not shit.” I defend my things. He gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me. I try and glare at him but it does nothing. I knew it wouldn’t because my glaring skills are lacking. I should take a lesson from him.

“You’re really playing out this grumpy lumberjack thing.”

“I’m not a lumberjack.”

“You don’t chop wood?” My eyes dart over to the fireplace that has wood loaded up next to it.

“Doesn’t make me a lumberjack.”

“Can we make a fire?” I step toward the beautiful fireplace that’s surrounded by stone. I wonder if it’s original to the home.

“Can you stay on topic?”

“Clearly, I’m staying. I mean you don’t have to beg me. You’ve already brought all my stuff in.” I turn. He glares at my sweater. He keeps looking at it. “It’s cute.”

“You happen to notice the snowflakes are right over your tits?”

I lift my hands, covering my breasts as if they are showing. He quirks a smile. His first and it’s drop dead gorgeous. I try another one of my glares that only has him shaking his head.

“Come on, Bear.” He pats his leg but the dog doesn’t move. Smittens stands up, feeling around and making herself comfortable again in a new position on top of the dog.

“Yeah, Smittens kinda gets what she wants.”

“This is my house.” He pats his leg again. Bear doesn’t move an inch.

I look to my Smittens. “Not anymore.”

Chapter Three

Conn

My house has been invaded. My space has been…violated by a girl who doesn’t come up much higher than my chest and an even tinier cat whose name is Smittens? Who in the hell names anything, let alone that evil creature, Smittens?

“I’ll lend you my car,” I declare. I can’t have her stay here much longer. Already the scent of the house is changing. It’s getting…sweeter. I hate sweet shit.

“For what?”

“So you can drive over to King’s place.” The last thing I want to do is get involved with King’s women. They’re all some kind of mess. I live out here in the woods to avoid messes—and people.

“I don’t know how to drive a truck.” She edges closer to the fireplace. “I think you need a special license for that. I only drive cars and specifically my car. You know that every car has its own personality. Mine—her name is Minnie, by the way—is very temperamental. She doesn’t like extreme cold or extreme hot. She also is not very good at filtering pollen but despite all that, she always comes through when I need her. Like today, even though it was snowing and I don’t have those special tires for the snow, she made it to your place just fine.”