6:00 PM

The walk is pretty quick. Before I know it, and before my toes are 100% numb, we are walking onto the back yard of Travis's parents' house. Which, I found out at lunch when I was paying attention, is actually now Travis's house. His parents did the most Jersey thing ever and retired to Florida.

I am elated to see that there's no blaze in the usual pit across from the deck steps. Trix walks right on to the deck and through the screen door onto the porch. What's his is hers, right?

It's cozy inside. Lantern lights hang on a wire above the old sofa and loveseat. Flashing back to my sleepover with Brooks.

"Hey babe." Travis steps onto the porch, holding a mug in one hand and a stereo under his arm in the other. Yes, stereo.

"Hey," Trix says, planting a kiss on Travis's lips. "Need any help?"

"Nah. Guys are in the kitchen. They'll be right out." Travis sets his mug down.

Guys. The excitement is stupid. I'm stupid.

I have a Question, why are women TRASH? Like good trash though, fancy garbage. Garbagio.

The sliding glass door opens again and Nate and Alex step onto the sun porch. Joe comes out behind them.

Stop looking, Em.

"Hey ladies," Alex says. "Welcome back, Emmy."

I hug Alex and Nate. I know it's been like three months, but it feels like I just saw them. Like I'm used to seeing them all the time again.

"Where's Sara?" Meg asks Joe as we sit down.

"Working late tonight. She's closing," Joe says. Sara is a bartender in town.

"Sucks," Trix says.

"Emmy when did you get back?" Alex asks, stretching back on the couch. Guitar in tow. Always.

"Just this morning," I say.

"Brooks picked her up," Trix blurts out, smirking at me.

"Did he? I wondered why I didn't see him earlier," Travis says. "And where is he now?"

"You tell me."

It's all I can say. It's killing me that he's not here to be honest. Killing me that two hours ago he was bothering me about picking me up from the café. And now I haven't heard from him since. And he's not here. But that's Brooks.

Nowhere to be found.

Doorbell.

Heart stops.

"Babe, can you grab the pizza?" Travis says from the bookshelf where he's plugging in the stereo.

"Course," Trix says and hops from the couch. "Emmy, come help me?"

I jump up and follow her. She opens the door and takes the pizza and dumps it in my hands. The guy puts a 2-liter soda in each of her hands.

"Already paid for," he says before leaving.

"Thanks," I mumble, grabbing the pizza from Trix and tipping the bro.

Trix shuts the door and gives me a look.

"What?" I shrug. "What?"

"Brooks," she says under her breath. Her eyes dart through the kitchen and onto the porch. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. I'm not his keeper."

"Is it hard? Lying so much?" Trix laughs.

"Stop," I laugh.

"You stop! You should have seen your face when Brooks didn't walk onto the porch," Trix says.

"Please, babe. You're being ridiculous!" I can't help but look away from her. I know she's right. #garbagio

"Please, you're being ridiculous," Trix says, laughing at me. "Meg might not pay attention, but I saw you smiling all through lunch."

"I can't smile now?" I raise my eyebrow.

"You were smiling at your phone screen, Em. I know it was him. I've been accustomed to the Emmy-Brooks smile for years. I know how to recognize it."

"He just picked me up, really. That was it," I say. She looks me over and smirks. "Trix, that was it."

"Are you guys like... Officially a thing yet? Don't worry, Meg isn't here to judge you now," Trix says.

"Meg doesn't care," I say, rolling my eyes. "I've got enough to judge Meg on, but I manage not to."

"Look, I love you Emmy. I just want you to make sure you know what you guys are doing." Trix stares at me with her warm eyes, holding her 2-liter sodas.

"I love you too, mom," I say, smiling. "But I'm good. We're good."

"Isn't Brooks your date for the benefit tomorrow?" She asks, still holding the soda against her hip.

"Not date," I say. "I'm just bringing him so I didn't need to go alone."

"You're right. A fancy benefit gala with gowns and tuxedos and dancing doesn't sound like a date," Trix says.

"So you agree?" I tease.

"As for being alone... Trav and I will be there, which you knew." Trix crosses her arms over her chest. Sodas are finally down.

"My mom told me to bring a guest, OK? Wasn't going to go alone! Plus he said he'd be home..." I trail off, biting my lip.

Yea fucking right I'm gonna tell Trix about our 1-month preChristmas abstinence pact.

"Hey, Pizza!" Travis shouts from the porch.

"Yea, I'm starvin'," Nate says.

"Coming!" Trix shouts. Before turning to me, quiet again. "What exactly did happen over Thanksgiving?"

"I'm betting you can guess."

"And? So? Why isn't he here tonight?" Trix asks, eyes eager.

"I don't know," I sigh. It's the truth. "I thought he'd be here. But he hasn't even said anything."

"Text him?" She asks.

"Yea, right." I give her a look that says you should know better.

"At least have tonight, then. Worry about him tomorrow," she says, looping her hand through mine.

"Are you guys making the pizza!?" Alex shouts.

"I said coming!" Trix yells. She grabs the pizza off the counter and tells me to get the sodas. "There're plastic cups in the cabinet there."

"OK. So, I'm thinking we fly to Vail on Monday?" Travis's voice is louder than everyone else's, but I'm not really paying attention to the plans.

No. I'm thinking how I do want to text him. In fact, it's taking a lot of restraint to not text him right now. We aren't even drinking tonight. I have no excuse to be needy or whiny or ask where he is. I just have to accept the fact that he isn't coming because he's obviously doing something else.

Or someone else.

I let Alex's voice serenade me into a sleepy stupor. I'm curled up with Trix and Meg on the old couch, surrounded by pillows and under a plaid blanket. Nate is in the chair and Travis tinkering with dusty records. Alex strums each cord with a delicate accuracy and I realize that even though I've heard him play countless times, this time is different. I am feeling his music. It's raw and not perfect but damn he's really good. It's so emotive I almost forget about Brooks for a while.

Just a while.

I remember him on the way back. He comes to me all over again with each of the three blocks I walk. The moon bounces off the snow on the ground, making it so bright out it could be high noon. The town –the streets –everything looks so eerie this way, like everything is off. And it is.

So he didn't come tonight. So he doesn't care.

Neither should you.

I creep through my front door. It's dark inside the house but my way is lit up by the Christmas lights pouring in through the window. It's only midnight, but it feels so much later. Feels like it's a 100 o'clock and I've been up for days.

I head straight for the bathroom, careful to be quiet in the hallway. Brushing my teeth is essential. I peel off my old favorite sweater and jump out of my jeans. I leave them on the tile floor and pick up the flannel I took off this morning. Right where I left it.

The light switches off and the bathroom is once again under the eerie purple glow being cast by the butterfly night-light. I step into my room, navigating the semi-darkness on my tiptoes. I look up in the mirror and see him sitting on the edge of my bed, holding a pillow on his lap. I legit jump out of my skin.

"Brooks!" I hiss under my breath. My foot almost catches on itself as I stumble backwards. "Fuck, what are you –how did you get in here?"

Brooks watches me as I walk to his side on my bed. I sit on my leg, with one foot still on the floor to balance me. He's looking at me with dark eyes, sad eyes. Tortured, maybe? I get no answer.

"Brooks?" My voice is quiet.

He's shaking his head. It almost falls in my lap. I run my fingers through his long hair, pulling it back, trying to soothe him.

My hands find his and I feel his raw knuckles. He definitely beat the shit out of something –or someone. If I strain my eyes enough I can see his lip is already bruised, glistening red.

"What happened?" I ask, running my fingers over the cuts and scrapes.

"I don't want to –Can I stay here tonight? Just to sleep." His whisper is so low I hardly hear it. I have about one hundred questions to ask, but somehow I refrain.

"Course you can," I whisper back.

He moves farther back on the bed, pulling me with him. I crawl up to the pillow region and pull back my comforter. I slide in between the sheets and pull Brooks with me. He pulls the sweatshirt over his head and it drops to the floor. He wraps his arms around me, bringing me against his bare skin. I wedge my freezing toes between his legs and he smiles for the first time tonight.

"Thank you," he says, quiet.

"What's wrong? What happened?" I ask again. I try to search his eyes –to find my own answers, but it's a no go. He's too skilled at the façade game.

"My dad happened. My house happened. All of it happened." He positions his head next to mine on the pillow.

We are so close. I'm reminded of that night we spent over at Travis's after the Back Bay party.

"Your dad came back?" I ask.

"This afternoon." Brooks barely nods. "Spent the day trying to convince my mom to sign the B&B over to him."

"What!" I whisper-shout. "But I thought –doesn't she get the B&B? Didn't she get everything in Jersey?"

"Oh yea, she does. But he's trying to talk her into it. Manipulating her as usual. The way only he can. He manipulates them all." Brooks shifts beside me. He won't let go of me.

"Brooks, I'm so–" I begin.

"Doesn't matter," Brooks says quietly. "I'm used to it by now."

"Is he who you fought? Who gave you that lip?" My fingers graze over his bottom lip. Still perfect, bloodied and bruised and all.

"Brody," Brooks sighs. He pushes back his hair again.

"Brody! No way!"

"I think he did it just so my dad wouldn't," Brooks almost laughs. "Gotta hand it to him –it was a nice punch."

"Boys," I mumble. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I just –I just want to lay here tonight," Brooks says against my skin.

"Laying sounds perfect," I whisper back.

I can't help but feel responsible. After all, Brooks only came home because I was coming home. Now he's stuck in a house with his father for the holidays. If only we could have our own Christmas just like we had our own Thanksgiving. The two of us are better that way –alone, locked away in a high tower where no one else can get inside.

The two of us sit in the semi-darkness. My room is dead quiet apart from the humming of the toilet you can hear from the bathroom. I roll over and hit the old boom box (I know, a BOOM BOX, GTFO) on my nightstand. The mix CD is still from high school. No telling what's on it.

The unmistakable strings of The Starting Line's Best of Me start up. Acoustic version. Brooks laughs softly beneath me.

"Oh my god. Throwback. This must be Emo-Emmy's," he whispers.

"Ah, Emo-Emmy. Gone not forgotten," I smirk toward the ceiling.

"So how was Back Bay?" Brooks asks, kissing me.

"Terrible without you."

His lips turn into a smile against mine. I hate that I can't see it in the dark, but feeling it against mine is almost good enough.

I squeeze my hand over his chest. The sleeve on my flannel is fraying. I stare at the threads starting to come undone. Everything comes undone.

"That's intense." Brooks tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Says the boy I found sitting on my bed in the dark," I whisper. "With a busted lip."

"Fair enough," Brooks laughs.