6
" Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Harper?”
“Aw, God, what’d I hit?” I asked, groaning while shifting to sit up. The place spun a little. The cold tiles bit into the seams of my jeans.
“The shopping cart,” Cash replied, humor edging his voice.
“Shit… Feels like a truck, only it hit me.”
“Anything hurt?” Cash bent down into my line of vision.
“My hands.” I turned them over to find them grazed, “and ass. I fell on it.”
“Can you bash yourself up any more? "
― , Christmas Wishes
11
" At the beginning of the month I wrote a letter to Santa—I know, childish—but I needed something to hope for, even if it felt silly.”
He smiled and shifted to sit by my side, winding his arm around my wait. “Wishing and hoping is never silly, Harper,” he whispered, nipping my jaw.
I leaned into his hold and twined our fingers. “I had two things on it: you, and to be accepted.” I stared at the black ink marking my letter in my messy handwriting.
He pressed his forehead against my temple. “You were on mine too, only, I didn’t send it to Santa. "
― , Christmas Wishes
13
" What kind of a father could do that?! It was bad enough—”
I cut him off. “Wait, what?” I snapped my head toward him, knowing my gaze was glassy, the corners of my eyes stinging with tears that had forced their way to the surface.
“How could your dad do that to you, let alone at this time of the year? And after everything with your mom—Christmas is about family.”
“Wait,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands. “You were calling my dad a prick?”
“Yeah, who else? Why are you cryin— Oh, Harper, no, I didn’t mean you. "
― , Christmas Wishes
19
" Your room is empty,” he breathed, sliding in beside me. “Everything’s gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘everything’s gone?’”
“Your dad donated your furniture, clothes, bed, everything, to the Salvation Army. But I did manage to find this.” From around the other side of his body, he revealed a little brown plush dog. Its ears were dark brown and a white stripe ran from its forehead down to its paws. Its eyes drooped low, sad and sulky, almost crying as it looked up at you. Mom had given him to me when I was little. I had been begging for a dog for years, but Dad refused. He didn’t think I was responsible enough to look after it.
“I found him sitting on the hall table and remembered what he used to mean to you.”
“Thank you, Cash,” I whispered, glancing at him as tears welled. “Dad sure cleaned me out fast…” A smirk pulled at the corners of my mouth as I attempted to make it a joke, like I didn’t care, but my voice broke.
“Oh, Harper.” Cash’s arms wound around my shoulders and pulled me in close. I rested my head in his shoulder and allowed the tears to flow freely, not just because of what my father had done, but for everything. For everything I’d bottled up in the six years since Mom had fallen sick. I’d held back the tears of fear and sadness, not wanting to upset Mom, then stopped them in the eyes of my father. But now, I could let them go, without fear of judgement, because Cash got me; he understood. "
― , Christmas Wishes
