[18+]
College student Hadley Bell is eager to return home for the holidays, but there's a problem. Her ex-no. 44 Nick Baker, Professional Snocross Racer and member of the Bell Race Team, still resides under her parent's roof.
Tensions run high, and...
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As expected, Janelle gaped at the beautifully decorated house, with the meticulous lights my OCD father had likely forced the boys to help him hang twinkling against the backdrop of night. They matched the randomly placed spruce trees along the long driveway that led to home and the perfectly placed inflatables he collected in hopes one of my brothers or me would have children someday. Children he could spoil and wow with his decorating skills. "Your house is incredible, Mrs. Bell."
"Linda," her mother insisted, already helping with the bags.
I smiled. It was no use telling her I could grab them. She'd deny me and tell me not to bother.
Hands in my pockets, I glanced at the two-story home, with all its varying rooftop heights and many windows. Not realizing just how much I missed it.
Janelle narrowed her gaze on me. "You didn't tell me your family was rich."
"Well off," I corrected, my breath fogging. "And you never asked."
"Cause I assumed you were broke," she clipped back. Not angry, just surprised. "You play the part of a struggling student well enough."
That I did, with all my trips to the thrift store in search of knick-knacks to complete our shared apartment, our monthly budget dinner's shared over pizza and beer, and my preference of no-name chips over brand name because it reminded me of my youth when my family wasn't so well off. "I pay for my education," I shrugged, and it wasn't because my family made me. It was because I craved independence. So I could say that I'd done it on my own.
"That's why you work at the bar."
It was one of many reasons, but—"Yes."
Janelle gazed at me with what I could only assume was admiration before saying, "Better than Dallas."
"Don't start," I said. It was bad enough that my family would say something about his absence. I didn't need Janelle going along with it.
She wasn't particularly fond of the forward, and she never said why but seized any chance to rip into him whenever the opportunity presented itself. Perhaps it was her dislike of jocks. Or maybe she was just overprotective. He did have a reputation for being a player, and it wasn't something I minded when he first showed up in the bar I worked in.
"I'm just saying," she grinned before disappearing behind the truck door to grab her suitcase before my mother could.
The warmth of home crashed into me as my mother opened the door, the smells of cinnamon spice and baked bread opening my heart like a three-pronged key.
I smiled inside, taking in the open foyer before my eyes wandered past the oak floors to the glass windows adorned with garland to the patio and the yard beyond.
