The Christmas Blanket

I cleared my throat. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he croaked out. “And just in case you’re wondering, it’s one for me, too.”

My heart thumped hard in my chest at his admission, at the truth he answered that I didn’t ask but wanted so desperately to know.

All this time… and he hadn’t slept with anyone else, either.

What did that mean?

I lifted my eggnog to my lips, telling myself sternly that it meant nothing. Nothing that I needed to read into, anyway.

I tore my eyes from River’s and looked at the fire, instead.

And so the game went.

I dared him to take a shot of whiskey, he dared me to lick one of Moose’s dog toys. I asked him where the strangest place he’d ever peed was, and he asked me to tell him the truth about the expensive bracelet I’d come home with when we were nineteen that he knew I couldn’t afford.

The more the game went on, the more we drank, and laughed, and teased each other. It seemed the harsh environment we’d lived in for the majority of the day was finally gone, and I much preferred the one we were in now.

It was close to midnight when River selected dare, and I was running out of ideas. But one glance across the room and that all changed.

“Remember that home video your dad showed me where you had that big blanket wrapped around you as a kid, and you were prancing around saying Look at me, Dad! I’m a queen! I’m a queen!”

“Men can’t be queens, son. Men are kings.” He mocked in his father’s voice.

“But… boys can be queens too, right? I wanna be a queen!” I said, and we both laughed.

When the sound faded, River had a distant look in his eyes, his thumb tracing the lip of his glass.

“Alright. That’s your dare,” I said, snapping my fingers before the moment became too heavy. “I want a replay.”

I hopped up from where I’d been sitting and grabbed the Christmas Blanket, tossing it at him. He caught it with a dramatic oof, folding the fabric over in his hands with a grin.

“Come on,” I said, and I took a seat on the couch like I was in the audience, and the space in front of the fireplace was his stage. “Let’s see it.”

River heaved a sigh, but when he was up on his feet, he slipped right into the role. He held his head high, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and letting it trail behind him while he waltzed around saying I’m a queen! I’m a queen!

I laughed and laughed until my sides hurt, rolling around on the couch. When River finally stopped, he stood in front of the fire with the blanket still on his shoulders, watching me.

The fire illuminated him from behind, making him something of a silhouette. I wished the power was on for the simple fact that I would have loved to see him in the twinkle of the lights winding around the Christmas tree.

Still, the garland and ornaments reflected the flames of the fire, and all the candles that surrounded us cast him in a warm glow. I watched a million different emotions pass over that half-shadowed face of his before he opened his arms, the blanket stretching out like a cape.

“Come here.”

I frowned, and didn’t move an inch, not until River smirked and nodded his head, motioning for me to join him.

“Come on, Eliza. Get in here.”

My chest tightened when he said my name, along with my throat, and I tried but failed to swallow as I made my way over to where he stood. When I was a few feet in front of him, he grinned wider, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me flush against him.

The Christmas Blanket was around us both now, covering us in warmth. For a moment, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. My arms were glued to my sides awkwardly until River chuckled, using his own hands to guide mine up to his shoulders.

Then, he wrapped his around me once more, and we started to sway.

The music from the radio had been so soft before, and us so loud, that I didn’t really remember it was playing at all. But now that we were silent, it was all I heard, the smooth melody and sweet voice of Bing Crosby singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

We swayed gently in front of the fire, my eyes on River’s chest, but I knew his were on me. I didn’t know why I was so nervous, but when I finally looked up and into his eyes, I felt it ten-fold.

“Truth or dare?”

The question was just above a whisper, and I whispered my reply. “Truth.”

“Do you hate me?”

I frowned, dropping my head down to his chest and soaking in the feel of his arms around me for a long while. I’d forgotten what it felt like, to be wrapped up this way, to be held. I forgot the way my head fit just perfectly under his chin, the way his flannel shirt smelled, the way I could always faintly hear his heartbeat when I rested my head on his chest like I did now.