"No, of course not."
I twirled the phone cord around my finger, keeping my tone cheerful. But really, my mind wasn't on my conversation.
"Jen, there's....yeah, I'm fine....why'd you ask?"
I frowned down at my bare feet, and tugged my hoody a little tighter. "No, no, I'm alright. It's just...nothing."
I pursed my lips. Then I let out a heavy breath--we both knew I was lying, though neither of us cared to point that out. "Yeah, I'll see you in a little. Bye, Jen."
I set the phone down gently on it's cradle, but I didn't move from my place on the kitchen chair. The room smelled like cookies.
How picturesque did this look? I wondered. A girl in her sweats, holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate, staring out at a gentle whirlwind of snow. It would probably make a great Christmas card. But honestly, I didn't want to wish anyone a merry Christmas, verbally or otherwise. Nothing was very merry about it, not for me, not this year.
I turned away from the snow--I didn't want to look at it. I was doing fine, really, until the temperature dropped and the snow came. Why not blame the snow?
"C'mon, Sammy, they're starting the music!"
Quinn's voice was loud, almost causing me to jump, but it was so joyful that I managed a half smile as I looked up at him. "I'll be there in a second."
He grinned at me, oblivious, and continued back into the living room, where laughter and, now, music drifted from to meet my ears. I sighed. I guess I couldn't go unnoticed now.
Facing everybody didn't sound like a very exciting prospect, to be truthful. But I had to go, or they would start to notice. Slowly, I rose to my feet, set down my cup, and walked out of the kitchen.
The living room was beautiful; it sparkled with different colored lights, and our Christmas tree stood proud in a corner. The aroma of pine needles, cookies, and fire mingled together in the air, filling my nose. Chatter and laughter wafted from every corner of the room, and there was food everywhere. Red and green assaulted my eyes, and it seemed as if everything glittered.
It all made me want to cry.
Instead, I slipped through the crowd to stand by Ross, the only person in the room that I was fairly certain wouldn't extract painful conversation from me. It was easier said than done, of course. The room was crowded--everyone was there. No, not everyone.
I pushed the thought out of my head as I finally spotted Ross off to the side, leaning against a wall, quietly surveying the room.
He nodded at me as I settled into a chair next to him. "Sam," was his only greeting, in his deep, gentle voice, along with a small smile. My returning smile was genuine, because that was the best greeting anyone ever got from Ross--it showed he thought of me as a friend.
"Hey, Ross."
We both settled into companionable silence, each content to be lost within our own thoughts. My gaze traveled around all of the familiar faces. Dad, Gram, Bryanna, there next to Mr. and Mrs. Ely. And there was Jen, talking animatedly with Ryan and Pepper. Dallas and the Sheriff were in a serious, most likely political, conversation. Mrs. Allen, Mr. and Mrs. Kenworthy. Quinn, Bryan, Nate.
But even in the crowd, the absence of one person stood out like dirt on fresh snow. I bit down on my chapped lips, and quickly turned to stare into the fire. Bad move.
Hypnotized my the gentle movement of the flame, my thoughts quickly drifted to the one person I'd tried so hard not to think about for the past two days. Again. I'd thought of him when there was no one to help me hang up the Christmas lights. And when I couldn't reach high enough to place the star on top of the tree. When no one stole the cookies with me, when I made a snowball, only to have no one to throw it at--I thought of him then. And almost every other moment, waking or asleep.
I pressed a balled up hand to my mouth.
When I saw the mistletoe. When I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up only to meet the light blue eyes of Pepper, instead of a mysterious, dark pair of mustang eyes.
It really shouldn't be lonely in a room full of friends--but I felt alone. How was he? Was he thinking about us, too? About me? Did he noticed the absence of another warm pair of hands to help him with work? Or Gram's cooking? Did he notice something missing, or was college life serving him so well that he'd forgotten? Did he wish that I was next to him as much as I did when I saw Jen and Ryan holding hands? Was he lonely in a room full of people, too? There were Christmases when I didn't have to wonder how he was. There were Christmases when he was here, with me, too. And it wasn't the same.
Jake should've been there.
"Ross, if anyone asks...I'm in the barn, okay?"
He studied me with gentle, doe brown eyes. I'd expected a nod, maybe a soft 'yeah.' Instead, I blinked in surprise when I got a full sentence.
"He misses us too, Sam."
He looked down at his feet, while I stared in disbelief at him. I was even more surprised when tears welled up in my eyes. "Yeah...I hope so."
And I slipped through the crowd of bodies again. I took a deep breathe as I broke into the easy, gentle quiet of the kitchen again, where the noise was lowered to a soft murmur in the background. I closed my eyes for a second. Then I shrugged on my coat and boots and stepped out into the cold.
It was beautiful. The snow had gone untouched, so far, even by the horses. The sky was deep, midnight blue, and through the snow, you could even see the twinkles of thousands of stars. Where it settled on the tree branches, the snow glistened. It went on for miles.
With my first regretful step, I thought of how this one footprint more or less ruined the scene. It stuck out...like the absence of a single person in a crowded room.
If I had been in an optimistic mood, I'd've thought of all the beautiful Christmas cards that portrayed a single track of foot prints marking the pristine snow. But, just then, it's safe to say I wasn't, in any way, shape, or form, in an optimistic mood.
With every crunch of my boots, I blinked back tears. It really wasn't right. Maybe it wouldn't have been that hard, say, a year before.
I'd only figured out that I was in love with him after he'd left for college.
And I hadn't seen him since.
My hands were trembling with cold as I fumbled with the latch on the barn door. I let out a shuddering breath when I slammed it behind me, shutting out the cold and the wind. God, it was a lot warmer in here. The light glowed warmly, and the horses looked cozy, blinking at me with sleepy eyes. The scent of fresh hay filled the air, blocking out the icy smell of snow.
A soft snort sounded from the furthest stall. My feet carried me over, and I met the warm, chocolaty eyes of Ace.
"Hey sweet boy. Why are you looking at me like that?"
He continued to stare at me, accusingly, almost, but, at the same time, gentle. I scowled softly at him, stroking him while leaning over his stall door.
"Of course I know he misses us too!"
Ace snorted, and there seemed to be a disbelieving tone to it.
"Oh, be like that, Grumpy."
He leaned over and gently nipped at my sleeve, giving a nicker. I let out a little laugh and shook my head, though soon I was blinking tears back again.
"Some Christmas, huh, boy? It's not the same. Not without him."
Ace nudged my arm, so I absently scratched his nose, letting a single tear roll down my cheek, and hating it.
"If he hadn't left, none of this would have happened! I never would have thought of him like this!" As a sniffly afterthought, I added, " Of course, if he was here, he'd think I was ridiculous."
"For thinking of me, or for talking to a horse?"
I couldn't help it--I shrieked. I knew that deep, husky voice so well--nothing else sent a shudder down my spine like it. Whirling around, I stared wide eyed at the tall, dark figure walking toward me from the front of the bar. Feeling the hard wood of the stall digging into my back, I raked a hurried hand across my eyes, futilely trying to erase the tears.
"Jake!"
My heart sped up. His hair had grown out again, just past his shoulders. His tall frame was still sturdy, and his black Stetson still sat on his head. He still had his cowboy swagger. A brown, fleece lined coat was shrugged onto his shoulders. Mustang eyes bored into mine, dark and unreadable and beautiful. He looked the same, but I was looking at him with new eyes. Gorgeous.
I gaped at him, like a fish, until he was less than a foot away.
He looked intently down at me, towering above my 5'4" frame. I couldn't formulate words, but I did come very close to crying again, to my utter humiliation and disbelief. And I kinda just wanted my dang heart to stop trying to pound through my chest. I couldn't read his expression when he spoke.
"Why you cryin'?"
His voice was soft, and low, and husky, and driving me absolutely driving me crazy. I stuttered out nonsensical words, and then suddenly felt very stupid. This was just Jake, for crying out loud!
I flung my arms around him.
"Jake! You're here!"
Instead of backing away, or rubbing his neck in embarrassment, he hugged me back. I ignored the way I fit perfectly against him, and just breathed in the scent of musk and horses and spices and...and just Jake. He was here! He was here and he was holding me and everything was okay again.
He pulled back, just slightly, holding me away from him while thoroughly inspecting me, never letting go of my arms. I watched his face carefully, wondering what he was thinking.
"So you ain't got yourself killed yet, Brat."
Where I normally would have glared at him, I threw back my head and laughed softly. Even I heard my turmoiling emotion in the short bark that left my mouth. Relief, pleasure, grief, confusion, thick with tears. That, and the fact that I had nothing to say, are probably what caused Jake's close scrutiny of my face.
I shifted, my nearness to him a caustic reminder of my despair just minutes before--and of the fact that now that he was back, I was aware that I could never have him. The intensity of his gaze, of his enigmatic, dark eyes, shortened my breath.
"You didn't answer my question."
It was an order, not just a passing statement. He wanted my answer, his way and no highway options, and at first, my only thought was 'Yeah, he's back.'
Looking at him with wide eyes, I weighed my options. The truth? Not likely. I wouldn't out right lie to him, either--I couldn't. He knew me too well. So when I opened my mouth, I had every intention of being partially honest--but what came out was much closer to the vulnerable truth than I intended.
"You weren't here."
Vague horror engulfed me as I realized that with the whisper came a shuddering sob. I was crying again--and I didn't know why. I hated crying. I never cried.
And then the words kept flowing, and I tried to channel them into anger, like I normally hid my sadness.
"You weren't here. And it was awful, Jake. It was horrible. It's Christmas and everyone was supposed to be here and then you weren't and it was killing me and I don't know why."
His eyes were wide, just a minuscule amount, and it pleased me that I'd managed to surprise an Ely. I hated the words coming from my mouth, because they made me vulnerable, but I couldn't stop them or their rising volume.
"I couldn't think straight. I was lonely--for God's sake, Jake, have you seen how many people are in that house? Do you have any idea how unhealthy it is to feel alone around forty people? Around your closest family and friends? I don't get that, and I don't get why I'm crying, and dammit, Jacob Ely, I don't get why I love you!"
I stopped short.
Oh, no. Oh, no no no, oh please, God, no. What had I done?
I stared at him in horror, in shame. That was never supposed to leave my mouth. Never. My mouth was slightly parted; I felt the shock on my features. Felt myself shaking. I couldn't meet his eyes, and, cowgirl or not, I fled.
I wrenched myself from his hands and ran.
"Sam!"
I didn't stop; I didn't know where I was going. I ran and ran, crunching snow, before I realized that I had no where to run. There was no where that I could hide from what I'd just done, no where to avoid my ruined friendship. But God, I didn't want to hear his rejection. So I did all that was left to do--I kept running.
Of course, I'd forgotten that Jake was a track star.
The second his warm hand grabbed my arm, I froze. My resolve shattered like a fallen icicle, and I just stood, breathing heavily, looking at the ground on the bank of the La Charla. I was trembling, from more than just the icy wind that penetrated my pajama pants. Not wanting to have to look at him, to hear the words that would hurt me so much, I was whispering desperately.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just forget it, forget I said anything..." I trailed off as he lifted my chin, and I stared at him imploringly with watery eyes.
"...Just please, forget it, Jake."
For what felt like the longest time, we just stared at each other, his calloused hand holding my chin. Now I wished he would say something, anything, and I wished my lips would stop trembling like they were...I wondered why his eyes burned with such intensity.
...And then my lips were warm.
Confusion swept through me. He was kissing me? It didn't make sense, not an ounce of sense.
But then I stopped thinking about anything but Jacob Ely.
His kiss was gentle, hesitant, almost. Like he didn't know how I'd react. Strong, slow, and soft, flowing like lava throughout me. When my arms wrapped around his neck, though, his lips grew persistent, not quite demanding...but almost. I gladly surrendered control to him. His arms were warm around my waist, and he was bending so I'd have better access. I pressed myself as close as possible as he held me to him, and I was warm and tingly and exuberant, despite the biting cold. My first kiss.
It ended all too soon. He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed. My eyes were open wide to meet his when he opened them slowly. His eyes were alight, dancing, with excitement and...and what?
A slow, lazy, tomcat grin spread across his face. I felt myself smile in return, although I was still lost.
"What...?"
I loved the gravely tone of his voice as he answered my open question. "I missed you too, Brat." When I just continued to stare at him, he sighed, smirking softly. "I love you too, Brat."
Oh.
Oh.
I blinked. Happiness flooded through me, and I said the only thing that made sense at the moment.
"Merry Christmas, Jake."
I hugged him tight, and he chuckled, not letting me go. "Merry Christmas, Brat."
A strange realization hit me, and I murmured, "That's the first time I've said 'Merry Christmas' this year..." My voice was pondering. He pulled back, and there was a question in his eyes. Why?
"It wasn't."
He gave a familiar sigh of agitation, and I grinned at the normality. "Wasn't what, Sam?" Exasperation edged his voice, although he was still smiling softly.
"It wasn't a Merry Christmas without you."
Okay, so Christmas was a few weeks ago. But hey, I'm a procrastinator. Sue me. Anyway, I hope y'all like it. It got a little cheesy at the end, but what's a Christmas fic without corny fluffness? :) Review, pretty please.
--Paris :)