Page 48 of Blinding Lights

“One would think you don’t trust me to look after your daughter,” Henley jokes, balancing on one foot so she can turn to face me.

I dart forward, grabbing hold of the ladder as it wobbles beneath her. Every time we use this damn thing we talk about getting another one, and we never do. “It’s not you I don’t trust; you know that.” I raise my brows pointedly as my eyes drop to the ladder, and Henley bites back a laugh.

“So, when are we getting a new one?” she asks, her face pulled into a sassy grin.

“I’m getting you one for Christmas,” I grumble, and she finally releases a laugh.

“Just hand me the damn star.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, I lift to my toes and hand her the delicate gold star we’ve had since our first Christmas at the store. My chest tightens as she stretches up to secure it in place, and I raise my arms just in case I need to catch her.

I love the high ceilings of our building, except when Christmas rolls around and Henley insists on finding the tallest tree for our display.

This year she topped them all, and as I watch, I’m not even convinced the star’s going to fit. “We could skip the⁠—”

“Got it. Told you it would work.” She smiles gloatingly while I sigh in relief. “If you’re that worried, next year I’ll invite Beckett to help us out. He could probably reach it without the ladder.”

At the mention of her brother, my stomach drops, along with my heart. Still, I laugh somewhat convincingly.

“I’m sure he’d be happy to do that if it prevents you from breaking a leg.”

“Definitely.” She eyes me suspiciously but I don’t bite. Ever since our drive home from Olivia and Hunter’s wedding, she’s been trying to catch me in a lie.

Other than our kiss—or two—I told her the truth about Beckett. I mentioned that we’d run into each other again after Olivia and Hunter had gone, and got to chatting until we were kicked out of the bar. I told her we’d then parted ways with a mutual this has been nice but here’s where it ends and that I was all good.

At the time, Henley smiled and nodded, pretending to believe me, but since then, she’s been bringing Beckett up any chance she gets in the hopes that I’ll suddenly cave, admitting there’s more to the story. And she’s probably right.

I’m sure I’ll confess everything one day. I’m not very good at hiding my feelings. But for now, it’s still so raw, and I’m not ready to process what I said and didn’t say. Or more importantly, how much I wish things were different between us.

“I’ve got the presents,” Ava calls out, running toward us while carrying more than a five-year-old should be able to handle. “One of them has my name on it,” she screams excitedly.

For our first Christmas in the store, Henley and I decided we’d give each other a small gift the night we put up our tree. It started as a “we made it to Christmas” celebration and has since become a tradition. With Ava joining us this year, Henley and I got her a gift too, along with Charley.

“Can I open mine second, please, Mom?” Ava asks as she places the presents under the tree, drawing Charley’s curious gaze.

“Second?” she asks, her face marred with confusion while Henley and I grin.

“First is the worst, second is the best,” Henley sings the silly little song Ava’s been singing for weeks now and I join in. “Third is the one with the hairy chest.”

“The what?” Charley wrinkles her nose, recoiling. “I’m not going third.”

Ava’s giggle echoes through the room, and it’s impossible not to laugh along with her. “You can go first, Charley,” Ava tells her, smiling when Charley immediately shakes her head.

“Uh-uh. I’m choosing last. What’s that say about me?”

Ava frowns while Henley and I shrug. “She’s never gotten that far in the song. I’m not even sure it goes any further.”

“Good. I’ll take it. You and Hen can go first and third.”

“I’ll go first.” Henley jumps down from the ladder, making me wince when the tree shakes. “I’m too impatient. I’ll happily be the worst.” She motions in a gimme gimme kind of way, and Ava laughs even harder.

We open our presents as Christmas tunes play softly in the background, and you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if you tried.

My phone rings just as Charley’s scrunching up her wrapping paper and tossing it into the empty box that previously held her new headphones.

Henley turns to grab my phone from the shelf she’s leaning against, and she doesn’t have to speak for me to know who’s calling. One repulsed glare tells me all I need to know. It’s Travis.

Smile gone.