Page 44 of Hunter or Hunted

They had a loaf of brioche on the granite countertop, so I used that as the base for French toast. With some soon-to-expire mascarpone tucked in the back of the fridge and an array of fruits, I made a filling and stuffed it into the bread. Then I fried up bacon and eggs while Sebastian plowed the driveway and Lizzie set up her phone on the other side of the island. We talked about her gifts and those shopping plans we had discussed a while back. We set a definitive date—next weekend.

Then we talked about Delilah. Not about her death, but about our memories with her. How much it sucked that she was gone. How much we would miss her. And what the hell I was going to do with the gifts I’d gotten her.

When we reached that point, a pit collapsed through the center of my stomach. My chest got tight. My eyes burned. That thunderous storm swelled in the center of my core, and I pushed it away. I said something to Lizzie about how holly jolly of a day it had been, and she laughed at the dark irony, and the subject shifted onto the next piano song she wanted me to teach her.

By then, the bacon was browning, the French toast was getting cold, and Sebastian was kicking off his boots at the front door. He came in, and we sat, and we ate, and we had a holly jolly morning.

So much was wrong still. With me, with the world, with the justice system, with Sebastian, with the entire basis of our relationship. Twelve hours ago, I’d begged him to help me murder a man.

But it was our first Christmas together, and I wanted it to be holly and jolly, God damn it.

Everything that was wrong could wait. I just wanted one holly jolly day.

When we were done eating, the clock read 12:30. Dinner would start around three. Sebastian offered to take me to my car in town on our way back, which added a few minutes of travel time, but also insisted that we needed to get the piano to my cabin. So why not leave now?

We did just that.

After figuring out how to get the piano out of his house, anyway. Sebastian and I tried to lift it—even Lizzie helped—but to no avail. The thing had to have been three hundred pounds, maybe more. Sebastian found a dolly in the garage, and we loaded it onto there. As far as getting it into the bed of his truck? That involved placing a couple of boards on the edge of the bed to create a ramp. It was then mine and Lizzie’s job to hold those boards in place while he pushed the dolly up.

I almost squished my fingers beneath the dolly tire, but we accomplished our goal.

From there, we loaded into the truck and took off. We stopped in Black Pines to pick up my car, then drove in tandem to the ranch. Now that we had a routine, unloading the piano was far easier than loading it. We got it into the cabin and set it up. Lizzie was right. After we moved the end table by the fireplace, it fit neatly beneath the window there.

Still ambivalent, I expressed my gratitude with a few more thank-yous and a hug.

The clock read 2:36 by then. We loaded into the truck and headed down to town.

Once we unloaded, just as we were starting into the cafeteria, I caught sight of blue-black hair peeking out beneath a familiar black puffer coat. Through the falling snow, our eyes met. She wore a big red scarf that disguised most of her face, but her brown eyes said it all.

Simone.

“Hey, guys, I’ll catch up,” I said to Sebastian and Lizzie. “Save me a seat?”

Sebastian glanced at Simone, then pressed a kiss to my forehead. “See you in there.”

As the two of them scampered off, I leaned against the wall of the cafeteria doors. I held it open for a couple people heading inside. After a few more strides, when she was only a dozen yards from the door, I started in her direction.

“Where’s Junie?” I asked, glancing around.

“Already inside with Rhiannon and Axel.” Simone tugged down her scarf. “I just had to run back to my place to get her an extra shirt. She spilled her drink.”

“As kids do.” Forcing a smile, my deep breath smoked before my face. “I’m sorry. For snapping at you yesterday. I don’t even remember everything I said. I was just⁠—”

“Grieving.” Her eyes glossed over. “I know. And you’re right. If anyone has a good leash around her feelings, a better one around their thoughts, it’s you.”

“Yeah, but you were right too.” I frowned. People walked past us on either side in little groups, so I remained mindful of my volume. And my phrasing. “Getting shit-faced drunk isn’t the best way to handle my emotions. After we left, I ranted and raved at Sebastian for hours. Then I smacked the bottle of apple juice into the kitchen cabinet, shattered it, and stepped in the glass. On both feet, somehow. And spent another hour puking my guts out.”

She snorted a laugh. “Both feet?”

“Got a wad of gauze on the left and a big old Band-Aid on the right.” Acknowledging it reminded me of the pain, made it more noticeable. I shifted onto my left foot to avoid the ache in the right.

She laughed some more, and I did too. As it faded to silence, her smile fell. “Maybe you needed that. Not the injured feet, but the crash-out. I mean, you were right yesterday. I am always telling you to open up more. It was good you did. I’m sure it feels a little better now that you let it all out.”

I made it through most of the day without crying, so I couldn’t disagree with her there. “Probably. But I still shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “So am I. Let’s not fight anymore, alright? I don’t like it.”

“Me neither.” I chuckled and opened my arms. She opened hers. We wrapped them around one another, and we hugged, and breaths came even easier than they had this morning. “Let’s have a holly jolly Christmas.”