Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
They both offer a wave as they head out the door, but I barely even register it. I’m too busy thinking about Scottie.
Can I really let her spend Christmas by herself?
Wednesday December 25th
Scottie
Christmas morning this year isn’t filled with roasting chestnuts on an open fire or opening presents under a tree. There’s no eggnog or cocoa or stockings hanging on the mantel, and my heart isn’t filled with the spirit of Jesus Christ or the act of giving. Instead, I’m a shell of myself, my drive and determination to carry on completely depleted.
My dad and my sister are devastated that I didn’t come home, both of them texting me this morning with sadness-laden Christmas wishes and thinly veiled guilt trips. But facing the truth at this point feels akin to skinning my family alive.
Coach Jordan is making us stay on campus for training, I told them. Meanwhile, Coach Jordan is probably having eggs Benedict on her parents’ terrace in Boca Raton.
Do I hate myself for being such a coward? Yes. I do. But if my mom’s not going to fess up to everything that’s happened on her own, I’m not going to be responsible for total sibling destruction over a freshly carved Christmas turkey. What am I supposed to say? Hey, sis, could you pass the potatoes before I tell you Mom’s still a raging drunk?
Thankfully, Dad and Wren are supposed to go to Aunt Carol’s house for the day to celebrate with his side of the family. Once Uncle Shane starts doing his Christmas Walrus impression and placing bets on roll consumption, they’ll forget all about my absence. At least, that’s my hope.
I, conversely, plan to wallow in my loneliness.
Both Julia and Kayla left campus to spend Christmas with their families—you know, like college students who aren’t bordering on agoraphobia—and I didn’t even bother asking any of the other girls on my squad what they were doing. Truth be told, I’ve spent the last few practices trying to avoid any and all conversation as much as I can.
Fat flakes fall outside my window, exemplifying a clichéd white Christmas. There’s not much accumulation yet, but the Weather Channel warned of a possibility of four or five inches.
It’ll be pretty for an hour or two, before the city traffic turns the pure white to brown sludge.
I could take a walk right now, to savor it while it’s fresh and soak in a little Christmasy ambiance, but the idea of running into anyone who might be lingering on campus is utterly prohibitive.
I pull my nose away from the cold glass and sigh. Time is moving at a snail’s pace.
My fuzzy red socks cushion my steps as I grab a bottle of water from my mini refrigerator and a granola bar from my snack basket on top and plop down onto my futon. I grab the remote and pull up one of my streaming services to put on The Holiday. It’s my favorite holiday movie, and if anything is going to be able to take my Grinch-y heart from ice-cold to lukewarm, it’s Kate Winslet’s cheeky humor and Jude Law’s handsome good looks. Cameron Diaz has only just arrived in England and is dragging her suitcase down the snow-covered lane in high heels, when a knock on my door startles me completely.
My body in fight-or-flight, I pull my fuzzy pink blanket tighter around my flannel-pajama-covered body and shut my eyes. Who the hell could it be, and whyyy are they knocking on my door on Christmas morning?
When anxiety is at the helm, she always runs me head on into the fetal position.
They knock again, and I hold my breath. You know, just in case whoever is at the door can hear my breathing.
“Scottie?” a deep, husky male voice calls through the door.
Finn. I swear I’d recognize his voice before my own at this point.
Thanks to the paper-thin doors of Delaney and the fact that I have my television up way too loud to drown out my incessant, nagging thoughts of loneliness, I know he knows I’m in here.
I take a deep breath and climb to my feet, straightening my pajama pants where they’ve twisted at my waist. A few high-kneed steps later, I will my hand to turn the knob and swing open the door.
Finn is there, looking as good as always in a flannel button-down, jeans, and brown boots, but the kicker is that he’s not alone. Three other people stand behind him—two guys, one girl—and they’re holding bags in their hands. One of the guys has a small pine tree hanging over his shoulder and looks fit to be tied with excitement.
“Uh, hey,” I greet nervously, self-conscious of my completely wacky outfit now. “What’s going on?”
“Julia told me you were still on campus, and we were in the neighborhood, so I figured we’d stop by and bring you some Christmas stuff.”