Page 214 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“How’re you feeling?” Max asks.
“Like shit,” I reply.
“Yeah, I can see that. I’m really sorry, man.”
I look out the window at the dark forest of the farm. “Nothing for you to be sorry about.”
“Still, this can’t be easy.”
“You know, I think it will be best if we just sit in silence.”
“Sure,” he says.
I let out a sigh and continue to stare out the window. That heavy feeling in my chest that lifted weeks ago when Storee kissed me on the porch…has returned.
And that dreaded loneliness I feel every Christmas season has returned.
And that incessant pang in my heart that I have when I watch Max’s family gather around the tree on Christmas morning has already started to hurt.
But the Maxheimers have been so kind to me that even though I’m hurting, I wouldn’t disrespect them by not showing up.
I rest my head against the headrest, and when Max turns out of the farm instead of toward the private residence, I ask, “Where are you going?”
“Have to grab something from the Myrrh-cantile for my mom. You can stay in the truck.”
“Okay,” I say, continuing to stare out the window, my mind flashing through every little moment with Storee.
Fuck, it felt so real.
It felt like she cared about me.
Like she wanted me.
Needed me.
Loved me… How was I so wrong? How did she grow up to be so devious and insensitive? And somehow I was so gullible that I believed it.
I swallow another lump in my throat, hating that I’m getting so goddamn emotional, just as Max passes right by the Myrrh-cantile.
“Dude, what are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he drives down Krampus Court toward my house.
“Max.”
He starts to slow down and then rolls down the windows.
“What the hell, man?”
“Shhh,” he says as I hear something in the distance…
What he heard, it wasn’t sad. No, this noise was quite merry.
It sounded like people, lots of people, making him wary.
He stared down Whistler Lane, and Cole widened his eyes.
Then he blinked, for what he saw was a stunning surprise.
