The Way It Used to Be

27

After Thanksgiving, things mostly returned to normal. Aunt Verne and I were working long hours in the shop filling Christmas orders. She had ordered poinsettias and Christmas picks in every design imaginable. People were coming in droves asking us to make their table centerpieces or their tree toppers. Business was good, and it was steady.

Aunt Verne and I spent a lot of nights making divinity or homemade fudge, and she would wrap it in cute cellophane bags and give it to our customers as a special Christmas treat. Jack spent a lot of nights stealing tastes of chocolate and hovering close by. It was as if we had traded one constant Caine brother for the other. I'd spent all of my teenage years with Colton on my heels, and now it was Jack who was never far behind. He slept on the couch a lot of nights, and he seemed tense with Colton.

I hadn't seen Colton again since the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and when Jack mentioned it, he had a strange growl to his voice and his face always twisted in what I assumed was anger. I never asked him about it, but I could only assume their relationship was rocky after what had happened between me and Colton.

While fall was my favorite season, Aunt Verne waited all year for Christmas. She'd made Jack hang lights on the porch, and she put up a tree in the front window of the shop. She made Jack cut down holly from the bushes on the edge of the field, and she had arranged it in red vases all through the house. It seemed like we were always listening to Christmas music, and the only thing we were allowed to watch on TV these days were Christmas movies. Her baking had taken a cinnamon spin, and our house was constantly filled with the spicy, sweet scent.

Of course, Jack always taste-tested those things, too.

I told myself Jack was only hanging around more often because Colton was busy and he was now bored, but when I was alone and quiet, I suspected a bit more. It seemed like he had changed the way he looked at me. While he used to spend his nights at our house teasing and talking to Aunt Verne, most of his attention was now focused on me.

While strange, it was still nice. It was easier to forget the pain of Colton's relationship with Jamie when Jack was around. When Jack was working and the shop was quiet and still, I watched for Colt's old, red ford to stop for lunch in town. I wondered what he was buying, or knowing him—making, Jamie for Christmas. I wondered if he was happy. I wondered if he stayed with her every night. I had forced myself to stop asking Jack.

Anytime I caught a glimpse of a red vehicle, my stomach turned flips in my throat. I wanted another chance to talk to him so badly. It was like a drug addiction. I knew I needed to quit, but it felt too good when it was good.