Heartstrings

(12) Mitchell

Mitchell

Kelly took her coffee, her palms around the cup. She curled up further into the edge of the sofa, closer to the fireplace. "Mitchell, I just need to ask."

His gut tensed.

"What should I tell my parents? They would've noticed that I'm not home by now." Her nose scrunched.

He held back a sigh. "You came over this morning to thank me for driving you home last night?"

She sips on his coffee thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's good. Perfect excuse."

He smiles behind the rim of his cup. Because it was oddly familiar. They used to make up excuses when they hung out alone, back when her parents hadn't known they were together.

Kelly sank further into the throw pillows, looking utterly small in his sweater she borrowed from his closet. She turns to him with a pout. "I'm still cold."

"I think I can help with that—"

"No."

"I meant cuddles."

She squinted her eyes skeptically. "Just cuddles?"

"Honest to goodness cuddles. More if you want."

"I'm choosing cuddles." She snorted.

Mitchell extended his hands to his sides in invitation.

She crawled toward him, tucking her legs underneath her, her arm going around his abdomen, her head taking solace on the crook of his neck.

He held her close, stroking her arm all the while wishing he wasn't too old for a wish on Santa's lap. He knew what that wish would be. He just doesn't have the guts to acknowledge it.

"Mitchell?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about your mom."

His hand faltered. "It's fine."

"I came back for the funeral."

He clutched his shoulders and puts her in arm's length. "You came?"

"I did," she smiles apologetically. "I just waited until the ceremony was over."

"Why?"

Her smile wanned. "I just don't think my family wanted to see me. And I doubt if you did too."

Of course, he did.

He needed her more than anything.

"I'm not sure mom wanted to see me just yet."

His brows knotted in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She laid her cup down the coffee table, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. "Mom was furious when I told them I'm moving to New York to pursue my writing. She, uh, told me I'll have no one to come back for if I walk out the door. Which I did, and I assumed she meant it because she refused to talk to me for a year. Annie and Jake were the only ones whom I could talk to. Dad was a little upset, but he answered my calls eventually."

"She told you to never come back?" Mitchell has been around the Parrs. However, the months after Kelly broke up with him were an exception. He was a mess after the breakup. He hadn't known what went down in the Parrs a week before Kelly left.

Kelly nods, her gaze over the fireplace. "I can't blame her. Dad said she only spoke of anger. She doesn't think writing can be a career. Especially in a town this small."

"Kelly." He splayed a palm across her cheek, urging her to look at him.

She blinks, her eyes suspiciously glassy. "It's okay. We made up. She's been bugging me to stay, so I guess we've put it all behind."

A piece of glass sliced through his gut.

Kelly looks around. "You're planning on decorating, right?"

He lets her change the subject. "I haven't hung a single ornament in this house."

"But why?"

He leans back on the armrest. "How about you do the decorating?"

"Me?"

"Yes. You can choose everything you want. I won't complain."

"From the Christmas tree to the tiniest ornament?" The glow on her face was back on.

He nods.

"Really?" Her voice raises in genuine excitement. Not the one she had around her family.

"Sure."

Her mouth stretched into a smile that made her green eyes sparkle. It was the first time he's seen it since she came home.

Kelly squealed, throwing her arms around his neck as she peppers his face with kisses. Mitchell laughed – a full throated laugh he's never heard from himself for a very long time. Not since Kelly.

Foolishly, he doesn't mind that she's broken his heart before. He's more focused on the stolen moments he can have with her. For the first time in three years, he doesn't want the holidays to end. And even if this one could end more disastrously than last time, at least he's seen it coming.