Letting You Know (38 page)

It
was the first time I'd ever opened up so much to my father. The first
time I'd bared so many of my fears and feelings for him to see, and
to understand.

It
was easily the first time he'd done the same for me.

I
hoped it wouldn't be the last.

“
Merry
Christmas,” I cried, jumping down on Deacon with a bright
giggle.

His
startled shout was amazing, especially when I snuggled up against him
and gave him the most innocent look I could. “Merry Christmas,
indeed,” he chuckled.

“
Come
on!” Pulling at the blankets, I slid off the mattress. “Mom
made breakfast, let's go!”

“
What's
the rush?” He moaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Wrinkling
my forehead, I released my hold reluctantly. “It's the last day
for who knows how long that I'll get to see my parents. I just don't
want to waste any time.”

He
raised an eyebrow at me, drawing attention to the fact I had just
said something neither of us thought was possible.

Blushing,
I turned away quickly.

“
Wait,”
he said, reaching out for my hand. I let him take it, my resistance
surface level at best. “Sorry, you're right. Let's go eat.”

Lighting
up, I leaned forward, seeking out his lips for a brief kiss. “Thanks.
I mean it.”

Deacon
followed me out, both of us still in our pajamas. The second my
parents saw us, they gave a dual greeting.

“
Merry
Christmas!”

“
Merry
Christmas,” I replied, inhaling the scent of sweet cream and
maple. “Did you really make pancakes?”

“
I
did,” Mom beamed.

A
gentle smile crossed my face. It was hard not to remember how
recently I'd tried to make my boyfriend pancakes.
That
morning, I'd been thinking about the last time I'd had someone make
them for me. And here I am, amazingly, eating them with that person.
Mom always did make them the best, too.

She
motioned for us to take a seat. Deacon obeyed, but I slipped over to
the coffee pot. “Still in love with that stuff?” Mom
asked.

Unable
to answer, too busy taking a deep swig, I just sighed deeply.

“
No
coffee for you?” My dad asked, settling down at the table
beside Deacon.

He
shook his head politely, casting me an amused look. “She drinks
enough for both of us.”

They
all chuckled, ignoring my attempt at feigning an insulted huff. “You
do like pancakes, though, I hope?” Mom asked.

“
Oh,
yes,” Deacon beamed, “I like those very much.”

Sitting
together, eating away at the fluffy treats, making conversation... it
was all so normal. Stuffing a mouthful of pancakes in, chewing it
slowly, it occurred to me that I didn't think Owen had ever once
shared a meal with my parents.

He
never wanted to be around anyone. And whatever he decided, we always
went with that. It was always... easier.

“
So,
I know you guys don't have much time today,” my dad said,
wiping his mouth. “But I was thinking we could go to the mall,
maybe do some shopping, maybe ice skating? See a movie?”

Tapping
my fork on my plate, I reminded myself what I had learned last night.
They
can afford this, and they want to spend time with us. Don't shut them
down.

“
That
sounds awesome,” I said, meaning it in spite of my inherent
worries.
It
isn't about money for them anymore. Enjoy this.

Deacon
stood up, taking his plate to the sink. “Yeah, I'm all for it.
Would it be alright if I took a shower first?”

“
Of
course,” Mom exclaimed, seeming pleasantly surprised. Lifting a
hand, as if to stifle her words, she whispered to me. “He's
very polite, isn't he?”

Amused,
I tilted down my head. “Yeah, that's him in a nutshell.”

That,
and so much more.

****

We
headed out as soon as we'd cleaned up and dressed.

Sitting
in the back of my parents' new car; a station wagon that, while not
extravagant, was still far nicer than what they'd had before, I felt
like a kid all over again.

The
last time I remember doing stuff like this, I really was a little
kid.

It
was a slow trip to the mall. The streets were packed with cars,
people who had either forgotten gifts, or families wanting to spend
time together out on the holiday.

Seeing
the old grey structure made me bite my tongue.
The
time I spent here as a kid, just getting away.
I hadn't been one of the girls who hung out with a group, trying to
act cool or bored.

Vanessa
and I would come together, hiding out in the arcade, checking the
machines for forgotten quarters.

She
always had spare money from her parents, at least. Enough that she
let me share it sometimes.

Hopping
out of the car, we hurried through the chilly air into the building.
It had been awhile since I'd been to that mall, yet it didn't look
any different.

“
You
kids want to go ice skating or shopping first?” Dad asked.

Kids,
I
thought with a silent laugh.
Being
here does kind of make me feel like a kid again. This is seriously so
weird.

I
loved it, though. It was more than I could have ever expected.

Turning
in place, I spotted the bottom floor over the railing, saw they'd
turned it into an ice rink. “That looks like a lot of fun,
let's do that first, if it's okay?” I asked.

Deacon
reached out, touching the middle of my back gently. “Sounds
good to me.”

“
Let's
go then,” my mother chuckled.

Heading
down the escalator, my eyes wandered up, taking in the giant
Christmas tree, the huge wreaths decorating the walls. The same music
that had been following us from Kentucky was, of course, being piped
from the speakers here, too.

At
the rink, we quickly tossed our shoes in a pile. Deacon moved to pay
for our tickets, but my dad waved a hand quickly. “No no, I've
got this.”

“
Dad,”
I winced, “you don't need—”

“
Shh
shh,” he said, handing the vendor a fifty. “It's fine.
I'll watch our shoes, you guys go ahead.”

“
You
aren't coming?” I felt a flicker of disappointment.

“
Not
my cup of tea,” he chuckled. “I'll watch you guys, go
already.”

Frowning,
I laced my skates on.
Don't
be greedy, you're getting so much from them already.

The
three of us wandered out on the ice. Deacon was a natural, I was sure
he'd skated before. Easily, he slid around my mother and I. She
gripped my arm, so I held tightly to her shoulder, laughing
nervously.

“
I
don't know when I skated last,” I admitted.

“
Me
either,” she replied.

Bit
by bit, we slid slowly down the rink, wobbling the whole way. Around
us, people flew past, far more capable than we were.

Not
that we cared.

Glancing
over, I saw my mom was laughing, her cheeks pink from both the cold
and her excitement.

Deacon
slid around my other side, murmuring into my ear. “I'll give
you guys some space.”

“
I—wait,”
I said, too slow to stop him from gliding off down the ice.
He
doesn't know that I already talked to Dad last night, about
everything. I don't need to be alone with...

My
mother gasped, almost slipping suddenly. “Whoa!” I
laughed, holding her up, trying to stabilize myself. It was a wasted
effort; with delighted, shocked screams, we both tumbled down onto
the hard ground.

Slipping
on our knees, we reached out, trying to help each other up. “Easy,”
she said.

“
I've
got it, I—oof!”

Once
more we fell, this time, giggling too hard to bother righting
ourselves. For a moment, we sat on the ice, hair in our eyes and
smiles stuck on solidly.

Gently,
we moved to the far wall, using it to stand up. “You okay?”
I asked her.

Nodding,
she wiped at the damp spots on her knees. “Yeah, fine. This is
a lot of fun, isn't it?”

“
It
is,” I agreed, seeing the sparkle in her eyes I hadn't in such
a long time.

Ever?
Have I ever seen it, or have I just forgotten?

The
crowd rolled by, kids squealing, people holding hands and having a
good time. Together, we watched it all, the silence stretching.

“
Leah,”
my mom started, the excitement gone from her low voice. “I
wanted to tell you something last night, but the moment wasn't
right.”

Turning,
I watched her from the corner of my eye. The nervous scrunch to her
mouth was plain as day. “Don't worry, Dad actually told me.”

“
Did
he?” She mused, not seeming entirely surprised. “And...
what did you say?”

“
I
said,” I murmured quietly, “that I was happy for you
guys.”

“
No,
what did you say to the idea of coming and staying with us? I know
you left to go find something better than this stupid place, but,
things are good here now, with us, and—”

“
Mom.”
It was a simple word, it ended her rambling. Facing her, I studied
the lines of guilt, of despair, blossoming on her expression.
She's
so worried about me, about everything. Would it be that easy, for me
to come back here? Would that fix everything for them?

Is
it even needed?