Page 1 of Mistletoe Kisses
1
Cassidy
A shiver rolls up my spine as soon as I push my door open. The loud whine only slightly describes how I’m feeling. This cold winter air is making all of my joints ache. At the young age of twenty-five, I’m feeling double that.
Looking toward the home I grew up in, my heart feels like it’s lodged itself into my throat. After spending years away, the nostalgia hits me like one swift punch to the chest, hard enough to leave me gasping for air.
I missed this place, missed my parents. In truth, I missed everything I threw away when I left in the first place.
With another cold chill slipping through my sweater like it’s nonexistent, I shut my door and peel my eyes away.
After facing unmoving traffic all morning, I didn’t think I’d make it here before dinner time. After a little undetected speeding, I arrived with perfect timing.
Those grayish clouds up above are only now deciding to spill a light layer of snow. As someone who can’t even drive in the rain without the fear of gliding off the road plucking at the back of my mind, I couldn’t possibly imagine traveling with ice on the road.
With snowflakes growing in quantity, I glide to my trunk. Pushing some stuff to the side, I wiggle out my suitcase and slam the trunk closed. With a thump of my belongings hitting the driveway, I start making my way toward the front.
There’s a large black truck with salt residue covering the lower part of the frame resting at my side. Not recognizing the vehicle, I’m willing to bet my father has treated himself to an upgrade. Though, if that were the case, I’m sure one of them would’ve gushed about it over one of our video calls.
No one mentioned any guests either, so who knows what will be waiting for me inside?
I don’t have to knock, not when my parents haven’t changed their locks in over a decade. For this reason alone, I’ve kept their house key on my ring, saved for this day.
My mother has this strange sixth sense, knowing whenever someone has arrived on the property. Barely having enough time to kick the snow from my boots, she’s calling my name out from deeper inside the home. Probably the kitchen, she loves the space more than anyone I’ve ever met.
Leaving my luggage behind, I don’t dare track water through the home. Nudging off my boots, I hang my scarf on the coat rack alongside the warm-looking coats. I’m going to need to invest in one of those if I plan on sticking around.
In the back of my mind, I mark the task down as a necessity. I will have to buy a few more warm clothes. My wardrobe consists of short-sleeved shirts and shorts. This sweater is new. Only grabbed it because it was hanging on a clearance rack.
A lot has changed. More than my sudden interest in coming home for the holidays to see my parents.
I won’t tell them all of my belongings are stuffed into the back of my car. They don’t need to know about me losing my job either, not right now. I’ll save it for a little longer after the start of my stay. Once I’ve crashed here through New Year’s, they might start putting the pieces together on their own if I stall the truth.
Nearing the kitchen, I hear the melodic tune of Christmas music with an added layer of static and crackling. The smell of gingerbread welcomes me with open arms. Breathing in deeply, a groan manifests in the back of my throat. Entering the room, I choke on the groan.
A familiar face sits at the table, his attention kept on building the ugliest gingerbread house I’ve ever seen. A frown is carved on his lips, his brows knitted together in concentration as he tries to put two walls together with a thin layer of icing.
I notice him before I have the chance to hunt down my mother. There’s a change in appearance. He’s got a beard now, a full bushy one that looks hardly tamed. Some silver hairs are giving away his age in both his hair and beard. Remembering how bright those blue eyes were of his, they look all but gray now. My stomach swoops despite the differences.
Why is Mylo here? As my father’s best friend, I shouldn’t be too surprised. However, it’s Christmas. By now, the man has to have a family to spend the holiday with.
No one warned me. If they had, I would’ve prepared myself a little better. Protected my heart a little more.
My mother’s shrill of excitement makes us both jump and I watch his walls come apart, flopping to the side.
Peeling my eyes away, I take in the flour-coated apron on her body as she comes to hug me. Completely forgetting about the mess on her front, she keeps her sticky fingers at a distance once her arms wrap around me. Smelling like a sugar cube, I breathe her in and sigh.
Just like the sensations that rolled through me when looking at my old home, the same thing happens as she hugs me.
All at once, I regret staying away for as long as I have. I should’ve visited at least once or twice through the years.
Looking past her shoulder, I meet his gaze. Holding it even longer once she releases me, my stomach clenches when I attempt to keep a smile on my lips. In truth, I’m shaken up more than I want to be.
Mylo looks just as surprised to see me. The way his brows lift against his forehead, that new addition of a beard helps hide his mouth. I’m sure he’s gawking at me.
What can I say, seven years is a lot of time to be away. I’ve changed over the years, just as he has. Unlike his full face of hair, I’ve gained a little weight on my cheeks and sides. Despite the fact, I don’t think I look bad per se.
That might change if he keeps staring at me without saying a word.