“Can I get you anything else, Tyler?” she asks as she watches me pick at my meal.
“This is absolutely delicious, I promise. I’m just . . .”
“Well, I made plenty. I’ll send some home with you for when your appetite returns.”
“That’s good ’cause Tyler’s on his own for the next few weeks,” Jordyn says.
I look at her curiously.
“Why’s that?” Kelly asks me.
I have no clue.
“His dad’s visiting some relatives for the holidays,” Jordyn says. “Where’d he go again? Idaho was it?”
“Uh, yeah. Idaho. To see the brother he hasn’t spoken to for years. That’s why he didn’t want me to come along. He’s not even sure he’ll be welcome. His sister-in-law set it up as a surprise,” I ramble.
Jordyn nudges me with her leg under the table. I rest my hand on her knee.
“Maybe you should stay with us for a few weeks,” Kelly offers. “I won’t have you spending the holidays alone. Especially for your first Christmas . . .” Sounding a little choked up, she stops herself. It’s the first time I haven’t been annoyed with someone unable to finish that thought. It’s like, it’s not about not being able to say it because it’s awkward, but because it hurts her the way it hurts me.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Henry says, laying a hand on her back.
“It’s very nice of you to offer, but I don’t want to intrude.”
“I insist.” Kelly blinks rapidly and looks down at her plate.
“You know we have four guest rooms, right?” Henry grins, lightening the mood.
“You can get your things tomorrow. But you’re staying tonight. That way I won’t have to worry about you driving in this mess.” Kelly gestures toward the window. It’s snowing pretty heavily. I hadn’t even noticed.
I don’t really have much of a choice. Kelly has made up her mind and that’s that.
Jordyn squeezes my hand under the table. I squeeze back.
“Thank you,” I say. To all of them.
“So it’s settled.” Kelly takes another bite of potato.
Part of me wonders if her insistence isn’t necessarily because she buys the bullshit story, but because on some level she knows what’s really going on, or that maybe Jordyn told her, but that’s probably in my head.
? ? ?
After helping Kelly clean up—she tried to shoo me away, but I insisted—Jordyn and I head down to the basement to watch TV. I can’t focus, though. What’s going to happen when I have to see Dad? I keep replaying the way he looked when he was kicking Captain and wondering if that’s how I looked with Brett, if—
“You okay?” Jordyn asks.
I shrug.
She takes my bad hand and kisses it. “He’ll be fine. We can bring him here tomorrow. He’ll need pain pills, but that’s about it.”
I nod. But now my mind isn’t on Captain or my dad. There’s a goddamn jewelry commercial on where the kids give their mom a necklace for the holidays and she cries and everyone is so fucking happy. I want to throw something.
Jordyn follows my gaze and gets it. She crawls closer and curls into me. She doesn’t say anything. And I love her for it.
After another half hour of A Christmas Story, I finally speak. “I guess it didn’t really hit me until your mom . . .” I trail off.
“At least you’ll be with people who care about you. Your dad can screw himself.”
I kiss her temple, and then she’s kissing me, and nothing else matters.
? ? ?
Jordyn begged to come with me to get my stuff, but is she crazy? I don’t want her anywhere near Dad after what he did to Captain. If he’s realized he can get to me by hurting my dog, who’s to say he won’t move on to hurting the people I love? I can’t chance it.
Of course, Jordyn didn’t listen. I saw her following me about four turns back, and now she’s parked several houses away. At least Dad’s car isn’t in the driveway.
I walk toward her and gesture for her to open the window.
“Don’t come in, but if you see him come home, start honking.” I turn away without waiting. This is how she can help me; hopefully it’ll keep her out of the house.
I see Dad didn’t bother cleaning up Captain’s blood. There’s a small, coagulated pool amidst a mass of dark red flecks next to the kitchen table. I hope it stains the tile grout like Mom’s did.
When I round the corner to my room, I slow, seeing that my door’s open and the lock looks like it’s been blown apart by a mini stick of dynamite. My heart freezes in my chest. I run down the stairs. My hiding place is still intact, but I rush to open the metal box, making sure all the contents are still there.
They are. I sit back on my heels.
My things are all strewn around the room in even more chaos than before. What the hell is he looking for? Money? Drugs? Booze? As if I have any of those things.