After we come home, we initiate Landon into the holiday tradition of roasting marshmallows on the back porch, sipping hot chocolate, and leaving cookies and milk for Santa. Emmaline is swinging from the ceiling by the time Mom ushers her to bed. But Landon seems a little quiet to me. Preoccupied.
He hasn’t said so in as many words, but I feel like the holidays are extra hard for him. I know him so well now, I think I can feel him struggling, even if he’s across the room and even if we haven’t really talked all day.
I think of texting him once I get up to bed, but I don’t think that I want to. We’ve had to cut back on our texting, lest my parents notice it on the cell phone bill, and anyway, what’s he going to tell me over text?
Before bedtime, my mom told me to be sure Em stays in bed all night.
“Don’t let her sneak downstairs,” she whispered. “We’re setting our alarms and getting up at three.”
It’s only eleven now, so I have plenty of time to sneak downstairs myself, snuggle with Landon, and get back up to bed before my parents wake up to do Santa. I only think about it for a minute. Then I’m pulling my red robe on, rubbing vanilla-scented lotion on my legs, and sneaking downstairs to the main floor.
All the lights are off. I’m all clear—and elated to race down the stairs to him.
I find Landon sitting up in bed, with all the lights off. From his basement room, he can’t see the lawn or street from his windows anymore than I can out of my skylights. Snow is piled along the bottom of his egress windows. In the gray light spilling from a moon that we can’t see, the snow looks like it’s glowing.
“Hi, you.” I smile as I drop my robe and sashay through the shadows. Landon’s eyes burn as they follow me, as I pull my shirt over my head and climb into his bed beside him.
Landon wraps me in his arms without a word. I feel his kisses near my ear, before he lays me down and wraps himself around me. We kiss until my lips hurt from the pressure of his mouth on mine, until my body is lit up and burning under his. When he stops kissing me, I peer up at him, panting slightly as his head hangs. “Why’d she leave me?”
He lies beside me, arms around me tightening as his ribs expand. His face is up against my neck, his words right by my ear as he says, “Was I trouble, Evie? Was she sick?” I feel his body slacken, then go tense again, his arms taut as they wrap me closer still to him.
I catch a brief glimpse of his eyes—silver and ink—before they shut and his forehead nuzzles my upper arm. “I wish that I could think she didn’t want to go. That someone made her. But that name…”
Ash Ville.
The way she left her name has always made him think his mother didn’t want to be found. That she planned to leave him. That it’s why she went there to begin with.
I run my fingers through the back of his hair, hating that he bears this burden. Hating her, this woman I don’t even know, for hurting Landon. Making him feel unworthy, unwanted.
“Maybe she was troubled,” I say softly. “She could have worried that she’d get found out for something. Who knows? It’s impossible.”
I feel his wet cheek up against mine as he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry.” I hug Landon tight, with all my strength. I even wrap my leg around him. I can feel his desolation, feel the way the darkness swallows him, the mystery haunts him.
“I want you,” I whisper. “I love you.” I tuck his head against my cheek and whisper, “If you want to, we’ll go look for her one day.”
His cheek presses against my jaw. His hand strokes through my hair. “Stay with me forever, okay,” he says softly. “I don’t ever want to live without you, Evie.”
“You won’t have to.”
“Never leave me.”
“Never. I’ll be here until you send me packing. You’ll be begging me to leave,” I murmur.
I’m kissing his damp temple, smoothing back his hair, when I hear creaking. Floorboards groaning under weight.
That’s footsteps.
My jaw drops as Landon’s body tightens.
“Fuck—Evie.”
We push away from each other, and I start flailing in the covers. “Oh my God, Landy, where’s my shirt?” I sit up more fully, then hop off the bed as I shake the duvet.
“Go into the bathroom,” he growls.
“No, I can’t! I need my shirt. If she comes in and I don’t have my shirt—” I’m such a moron. Why did I take off my shirt? How stupid!
“It’s okay,” I say as I sift through his sheets. “Sometimes my mom gets water.”
The footsteps get louder. Faster. Oh my God, they’re coming down the stairs. I’m frozen there without my shirt, my heart in my knees.
“Shower, Evie! Go.” Landon shoves me, and right then I see my shirt: I must have thrown it, and it landed on the footboard. I swipe it and swivel. I am lunging for the bathroom when the door opens.
The light flicks on, and I can’t see, but I can hear my mother’s gasp.
My eyes adjust as her face slackens. She’s aghast as she says, “What on earth is going on? Evie, why are you down here? And where’s your shirt?”
She says it like she thinks it might have gotten lost by accident.
Her tone drops lower. “Landon.”
“It’s right here,” I say, about my shirt. I pull it over my head. “I just—”
“It’s not—” Landon begins.
“What are you doing down here?” Mom cries. “Evie! Landon—what on earth is going on! I needed wrapping paper from this closet. Landon—” her eyes widen on him, then fly back to me as her face crumples. “Please tell me it’s not— Evelyn, tell me you were not—”
“Mom, we love each other. Listen, I know that it’s—”
“What did you say?” Mom’s face tightens, and I feel the blood drain from my own. “Mom—”
My mother takes a few strides toward me, and then she turns to Landon. “In your bed?” Her eyes are huge as she whirls back to me. “You were in his bed, Evie—without your shirt! What do you think this is? Landon’s— Landon—” She turns back to him. “Is this how you— Is this what you think—” Her head shakes, so forceful that her cheeks quiver. “This is unacceptable,” my mother roars. “Evie, what the hell is wrong with you?”
She closes the space between herself and me with one fast stride. Her fingers close around my arm. “Get out. Evie, get out of this room RIGHT NOW.” Her voice thunders in fury. “Out of here, before I—” I do what she says, my numb legs moving me into the stairwell.
“Mom—”
“Catherine,” Landon starts, behind us.
“You be quiet!” She pushes me. I whirl around, and I see Landon’s helpless face behind her.
“Mom, just listen. If you listen, I can—”
“Get upstairs! You better get upstairs RIGHT NOW, young lady!” She sounds furious, so filled with rage that I turn and I go, my instinct urging me to lead the threat away from Landon.
As I reach the top of the stairwell, another light comes on, and I see my dad’s confused face.
“Dean, you won’t believe this! You will not believe—” My mother grabs my arm. “Evie—Dean, she’s— I found Evie in his bedroom! Landon’s bedroom!”
Dad’s jaw drops. I hear a clatter and look down to see a pile of glass and purple liquid. Dad was pouring wine, but now he’s staring at me, totally aghast.
“You’ve been lying to us!” Mom shouts. “Evie, how could you?”