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“Clearly.”
He released my wrist and I followed him downstairs. The rest of the family was sitting around the huge living room, all in their pajamas. Mr. Rush had a mug of coffee in his hand and Amy was munching on a frozen waffle. They looked up when Wesley and I entered.
“We told you not to wake her up,” Mrs. Rush scolded.
“If we waited for So
“So?” Mrs. Rush asked.
“Mother, that is unacceptable. Even you know that.”
“So
But I barely heard her. I was too busy staring at the mantel over the fireplace, where five stockings had been hung. They hadn’t been there when I’d gone up to bed the night before. But there they were. Five.
One for each member of the Rush family.
And, right in the middle of them, one that said So
It was a small thing, on the surface, but it felt huge. I had to swallow a lump that had risen in my throat. I had never had a stocking with my name on it. Mom had never hung them. Hell, we hadn’t even had a Christmas tree in at least five years.
“So
I nodded and migrated over to the couch to sit between him and Amy, who offered me a warm smile.
“Merry Christmas,” she said.
“Merry Christmas,” I replied, beaming back at her.
Wesley passed out the gifts, but none of us opened them until every package under the tree had been given to its rightful owner. Then we were free to tear in, though no one did this with quite as much enthusiasm as the eldest Rush child.
“You’re nearly twenty-one years old,” Mr. Rush reminded his son as Wesley impatiently shredded the paper on one of the gifts — the game console Amy and I had picked up.
“The Christmas spirit doesn’t have an age,” Wesley assured him.
As for me, I had a small pile of gifts, pretty much as I’d expected. A new red sweater from Mr. Rush (was that cashmere? I didn’t even know what cashmere felt like) and a box of lavender-scented lotion, body wash, and perfume from Mrs. Rush. Wesley had gotten me something, too, though the present itself confused me a little.
“Oh, thank you,” I said, looking down at the smartphone case that had clearly been custom designed with my name in pink, swirly letters. I didn’t have a smartphone, but I did have the ability to fake enthusiasm. “It’s really cute.”
“That actually goes with another gift,” Mrs. Rush said. “Go check your stocking.”
“Uh, okay.” I stood up and walked over to the mantel. Carefully, I reached my hand inside the So
A smartphone.
A brand-new, working smartphone.
“That’s from all of us,” Mr. Rush said.
“But it was Amy’s idea,” Mrs. Rush informed me. “We know your phone’s been broken for a while, and we figured it was time for an upgrade.”
“We added you to our phone plan, too,” Mr. Rush said. “We transferred your old number and everything.”
That lump was back again. Persistent bastard. I just shook my head, barely managing to choke out the words, “I–I can’t accept this.”
“You can, and you will,” Wesley said.
“It’s a little selfish on our parts,” Mrs. Rush added. “We want to be able to keep in touch with you while you’re living here, and you and Amy can’t always be attached at the hip. So this is for us, too.”
“I’m sure it’ll also make it easier for your mother to get ahold of you if she needs to,” Mr. Rush said.
“Do you like it?” Amy asked. She was gri
I nodded. “I do. I do — thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Mr. Rush said. “And thank you for spending Christmas with us. We’re glad to have you here, So
I smiled at him. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”
I may not have been as filled with holiday joy as Wesley (I doubted I ever would be), but if I was going to spend Christmas with anyone, there was no other family I’d rather be with.
Except, maybe, my own.
The only call I got that day wasn’t on my new cell phone: It was on the Rushes’ house phone, and it was collect.
“Yes, I’ll accept the charges,” I said, feeling a little guilty despite their insistence that they’d be okay with paying the fees when I’d originally asked them about it.
I had a feeling this was the first time the Rush house had received a call from a prison.
“So
I hadn’t heard his voice in years, but I recognized it immediately. It was deep, but light. You could hear the smile in it. In all my memories of my father, he was always smiling.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, my own voice a tad shaky. “Merry Christmas.”
“You sound so grown-up,” he said. “You’re probably too old for me to call you So
“Maybe a little,” I said. I was surprised by how normal he sounded. How confident and pleasant. Somehow, I’d expected prison to rob him of that. He just … didn’t sound like a criminal. “It’s been a while.”
“I know. I was so happy to get your letter.”
“You were?”
“Of course, So
“We moved a few years ago,” I said. “Into Granddad’s house. And Mom never got a house phone. And her cell number has changed a few times, so …”
“Your mother,” he said, a slight laugh in his voice. “She’s a piece of work.”
“Yeah … So that’s why I gave you this number. I’m at my friend’s house right now. Her parents said I could take your calls here.”
“Oh,” Dad said. “Well, tell them thank you for me.” He paused. “How is your mom, anyway?”
Time to lie.
“Great,” I said. “She’s got a good job right now and she’s seeing someone, so that’s good for her. We had a great Christmas this morning, and then I came over to my friend’s house for di
“That’s great,” Dad said. “I miss you, So
“I miss you, too.”
I didn’t know the words were true until they left my mouth. Despite everything I’d said about him over the years, despite all the anger and hurt I felt, I’d missed him. Especially now.
“Listen,” he said. “I know you’re busy, but I’d love to see you if you ever want to come for visitation —”
“I will.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know when, but I’ll come soon.”
“That would be great, So
I had to remind myself of that. My dad might not have sounded like a criminal, but he was one. There was no disputing that. Maybe he’d changed over the years. Maybe he wasn’t the asshole my mother had once claimed. But for all his charm, he was a liar.
Just like me.
The question was, how much was he lying about?
There was a chance that letting him back into my life was a mistake. But Ryder said Dad might surprise me if I gave him a chance, and he already had just by calling.
“You still there, So
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m here. But I can only talk for a few more minutes. The phone charges are kind of …”
“I understand,” Dad said. “But, if you have a few more minutes, I’d love to learn a little more about this grown-up you.”
I smiled. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” he said.
I wouldn’t give him that. I couldn’t give anyone that. But for the next five minutes, I told him as many true things as I could.
Chapter 16
“Are you freaking kidding me?”
I slammed my fist into Gert’s steering wheel and jumped at the resounding honk! it elicited. Because, despite all logic, it had somehow surprised me.