Page 73 of This Broken Heart

I laugh, shrugging. “I have no idea who that is.”

“Champ Kind in Anchor Man?” She pauses. “Tom Packer from The Office?”

“Okay, I’ve seen those. I’m just not a name guy.” I settle back. “So it’s a comedy, then?”

“I think so.”

It most definitely is not a comedy.

It starts out that way. Then gets dark.

And terrifying.

We both recede into the couch like we can get away from the horror that’s unfolding on the screen. At one point, Erin jumps, spilling her beer.

“Ah! Fuck me.” She mutters. I take one look at her face and start laughing.

It’s more or less downhill from there. We crack up at the most inappropriate parts.

Laughing until tears run down our faces.

I’ll take these tears all day long over the ones I would have spent if I’d been alone.

Laughing is infinitely preferable to crying.

49.

Erin

I decided to stay through the afternoon because I thought the Olsons needed my help.

But I’m not completely selfless.

I didn’t want to go home because I couldn’t stand to see the house without dad in it. Couldn’t stand to see mom carrying on like her world didn’t come crashing down around her feet.

She went to spend the day with my Aunt Marla and her brood of children. I consider the fact that I won’t see my cousins this year to be a silver lining.

I picked Krampus because I hadn’t seen it and I figured Josh hadn’t either. The horror part sort of came out of left field, but that was a silver lining, too, because it serves as an outlet for the swirl of emotions in my chest.

Josh seems to like it, in any event. He’s wheeze-laughing at all the wrong parts, a fact that I find to be a little twisted, and therefore, incredibly endearing.

He catches me staring at him and his smile slips a little. Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, he leans in, drawing his nose along mine. I tip my head up and our lips brush each other.

And, oh shit, this is why I’ve been avoiding this honey trap. I swear sparks fly when we kiss. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and when I part them for him, he delves inside, dominating my thoughts, my body. Wrapping his hands around my ass, he drags me onto his lap. We kiss like it can solve all our problems. Like it can make all the bad things go away.

And for a few minutes, it works pretty damn well.

But then Trace’s door squeaks open.

Scrambling in a tangle of limbs and disheveled clothes, we spring apart.

He fumbles for the remote. Hitting the power button on poor Krampus. “Nope.”

Trace wanders into the living room, gaze darting back and forth with suspicion. “Were you watching a movie?”

“Hey, Trace.” Josh says, tugging a pillow over his lap.

Trace tilts his head. “Aren’t we supposed to be getting ready for the program? Are you going to wear jeans to church, dad?”