Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Not really,” Chloe says, setting down her glass. “Holidays aren’t really my thing.”
“No family to visit?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.
Yes, I already know the answer to this question, and I feel like an asshole bringing up a painful topic, but I need to take a huge step away from familiar. I feel as if I’m getting too close to being caught. I need to play the perfect stranger role. I need to ask all the “normal” questions a man who knows nothing about a woman would ask.
Chloe shakes her head, a glimmer of sadness crossing her face. “Not anymore. It’s just me.”
Guilt stabs at my gut as I see the pain present. As much as I want to tell her that I know more about her family situation than I should, I can’t let on.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, reaching out to touch her hand briefly before pulling back. “The holidays can be tough when you’re on your own.”
She nods, her eyes distant. “Yeah, it’s . . . it’s not easy. But I manage. What about you? Big family celebration planned?”
I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Nah, I’m a bit of a lone wolf myself. Probably order some Chinese food and watch terrible Christmas movies.” Wanting to give her a little more, I add, “My mother loved the holidays when she was alive, but now that it’s just me . . .” I shrug. “You know.”
“Was she your only family?”
“Yeah, and when she died, I bounced around as a kid does in that situation, but Christmas was never the same.”
Chloe’s eyes soften, and for a moment, I see a glimmer of genuine empathy. “I’m sorry about your mom,” she says quietly. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to celebrate when the people who made it special are gone.”
I nod, surprised by the sudden lump in my throat. I hadn’t meant to bring up my mother, but something about Chloe makes me want to open up. “Yeah, it is. Sometimes I think about trying to recreate those old traditions, but it feels . . . empty.”
She reaches out, her fingers lightly brushing against mine. The touch sends a jolt through me, and I have to resist the urge to pull away. I’m not used to this kind of gentle contact, especially not from her. As if she senses my discomfort, she pulls away and reaches for her drink again.
“I lost my parents a little over two years ago,” she admits. “Car accident we were all in. Things haven’t been the same since.”
I know, I want to say. I want to admit that I was the one working the scene that night. That I was the firefighter who pulled her parents’ bodies from the wreckage. That I held her shaking hand as I got her into the ambulance. That I went to the hospital after my shift to check on her and have watched over ever since.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. “I’m so sorry. That must have been devastating.” The words feel hollow, inadequate. I want to tell her everything, to confess that I was there, that I’ve known her pain intimately since that night. But I can’t. It would ruin everything.
She nods, blinking rapidly. “It was. Still is, sometimes. But life goes on, right?” She attempts a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
I nod sympathetically, keeping my expression neutral despite the turmoil inside me.
Chloe takes another sip of her whiskey, this time not grimacing at the taste. “You know, it’s funny. I haven’t talked about them in . . . I can’t even remember how long. My therapist would probably say this is progress.”
I chuckle, trying to keep the mood light. “Well, I’m honored to be part of your progress, then.”
She laughs, a genuine sound that makes my heart skip. “You should be. I don’t open up to just anyone, you know.”
The irony of her statement isn’t lost on me. If only she knew how close we really are.
“I’m glad you feel comfortable with me,” I say, meaning every word. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger, isn’t it?”
“But you aren’t a stranger, are you?”
Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, my heart seizes. Does she know? Has she figured it out? Has she been playing a game of cat and mouse with me? Toying me on to see me squirm? I had tested the limits, and maybe it’s time the truth to be revealed.
I force myself to stay calm, however. Waiting to see.
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
Chloe smiles, and a wave of relief washes over me. “I mean, we’ve shared hot chocolate together now. That means something.” She giggles. “But yeah, something about you has always felt . . . familiar. You don’t feel like a stranger. At least not anymore.” She leans in, her eyes searching mine. “There’s something about you, Jack. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but . . . I feel like I can trust you. Is that crazy?”