Father Christmas

“Seems pretty brazen to be doing it right under his nose.” Finn starts the engine with a strange glint in his eye. “Maybe she’s with both of them.”

My eyes widen. “You mean like...with both of them?” I turn the idea over in my mind. I suppose anything’s possible. “Well, if that’s the case then, good for her, I guess?”

“You think so?” Finn lays his hand on my thigh. “You like the sound of that? Being with two guys at once?”

Finn’s the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with. With him occupying so much space in my fantasies, I can’t say I’ve given much thought to wanting to date or be intimate anyone else—and certainly not at the same time.

“Only if both of them are you.”

He kneads my inner thigh and growls, “Right answer, baby girl.”

As we pull into the hardware store’s parking lot, I spot the sign for pre-cut Christmas trees. There are quite a few left, resting up against the side of the building.

Finn lets me pick out the tree I want, the way my dad used to at our favorite Christmas tree farm back home. I remember him lifting me onto his shoulders and telling me to pick the tallest, poofiest tree I could find, which Finn would then chop down.

“I miss him, too,” Finn says, hugging me against his side. Whatever look I have on my face apparently speaks for itself, or maybe Finn just knows me well enough to guess what I’m thinking.

Inside the store, we find white lights and boxes of glass ornaments, plus a plastic tree stand. Finn pays for the decorations, and for the tree, which he loads into the truck bed.

“You want to drive back?” he asks, offering me the keys to his rental. For a moment, all I can do is stare at the keys in his palm.

“I would,” I say, taking them. “Thank you.”

Finn cocks his head like he doesn’t quite get why I would thank him for trusting me with this very expensive death machine, or so my mom would call it.

I haven’t had a chance to drive a truck since that night in September; I forgot how much I liked it. Since I’m short, being up higher allows me to see more of the road. I’m not nervous at all when the snow begins to fall, because I can feel how well the truck’s tires grip the road.

“I really appreciate the way you take care of me without crushing my independence,” I tell him.

He grips my thigh, above the knee. “You’re my baby girl, Astrid, but you’re not a baby. You remember how to get back?”

“Yep, I think so.” I brake gently as we head into a turn. My body registers movement at the side of the road up ahead before my brain can comprehend what it’s seeing.

Something big and dark that shouldn’t be there.

A black bear stepping into the road.