Every December [Soon to be Self Published]

Chapter 15

"You're going to see her, aren't you?"

I open the door with a gloating grin. "That's none of your business."

That felt good.

I all but do a fist pump right there in the driveway.

Now onto the truly intimidating task. Getting Lydia to listen won't be easy. Seeing her last night didn't make this thing any less difficult.

So, here I go. Driving the SUV towards her house like this won't backfire. With Feliz Navidad playing from the radio. I give the dashboard a caustic glance but press down on the pedal. I take the curves like my hand works up Lydia's hips, steady and smooth. A squirrel darts across the road. "Shit!" I slam on the brakes to avoid hitting the rodent and pause with my foot on the brake, my heart racing.

I press my head back against the headrest and idly run my hand over the steering wheel. Why do I suddenly feel like my twelve-year-old self riddled with fear about talking to a girl? Where are my balls? Where's my spine? Has Brielle been crushing both for so long that I forgot how to get what I want? I'm nervous as the knots taking over my stomach for one reason. I like her. I like her a lot. I'm obsessed with her mouth, with her laughter, with her sly glances when she's wondering if I notice. I don't want her to shut the door in my face.

Getting a grip, I turn off the radio, cutting off the music "...from the bottom of my heart," and I drive onto the Chen property. If any more time passes, Lydia will go. She will leave me to always wonder what would have happened if we had spent one Christmas together. I don't want her to be a story I tuck in my back pocket where memories get lost.

A large renovated cottage with a wrap-around porch comes into view. Bundles of cut wood are covered in a blue tarp near the steps. Shrubs border the exterior with snow stacked on top. How have I never stopped by this place before? Have I been that guy next door who doesn't so much as introduce himself? Oh God. I have. What's gotten into me? I avoid neighbors.

I get out of the car and grab the bag of pastries. My breath is a puff of white air each time I exhale. My boots announce my arrival. Everything is dead quiet and encased in snow from the previous storm. At least the driveway had been cleared.

I knock hard.

No answer. Maybe she's sleeping. It is early. She's just going to have to wake up because I'm not going home with Brielle still there. "Lydia." I knock again. I hear something. I crane my neck towards the door. What's that noise? "Lydia?" My hand toggles the handle hard, restrained by the lock. What if something's wrong? Fear doubles down, taking root, and I punch the code I had used from the night before and open the door.

The house is freezing. Why is the heater not on? "Lydia?"

I look in the direction of sound coming from the room with a flat screen television hanging above a stone fireplace.

"You're more than a professional golfer," her familiar voice trims the silence. "You're one of the best in the world."

I follow her voice to the couch and walk around, hiding my relief at the sight of her huddled beneath blankets, though probably on her way to hypothermia. My face and hands are already cold and my chest stings from the icy air. I dismiss my discomforts and hold myself in check, despite wanting to touch every part of her to make sure she's okay. "This seems like a desperate fan move, Hobs."

"I had to think of a way to get your attention with your girlfriend in town."

I deserved that. She can see it in my eyes. Go on. Hit me again. "She's not my girlfriend."

Her eyes flare. "Sorry, the mother of your child."

"Lydia," I say her name sternly, "this can wait. Everything else can wait. Okay? Let's get you out of here before you turn blue."