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“That’s not fair.” Shy swats at Andy.

Andy dodges her swat. “I’m just saying it like it is. None of us expected life to take these turns, but here we are.”

“What turn did your life take that is so awful?” Shy demands.

Andy shrugs again, but she finally says, “Before graduation, we talked about travelling. Seeing the world. Doing amazing things. Then we graduated and every time I talk to Micha about booking a flight to literally anywhere, he turns me down. He tells me he has to work, and I get it, I do, but—” she groans. “He just got a job and now all he talks about is the same grind my parents talk about. I feel like I’m getting sucked into this trap that I just—I don’t want to get caught up in. I feel itchy in my skin, like I’m meant for more than this and yet every day I find myself more and more stuck in place. On top of that, Micha is Micha. He’s so stupidly good looking. Every time we’re out, girls are all over him and he’s always yapping back at them like—” She drops her head into her hands, fingers curling into her hair in frustration. “I just think maybe we need a break. Maybe we need to explore other people and places so that we know we’re actually choosing each other.”

When she lifts her head again, both me and Shy are speechless.

Andy shakes her head as her eyes drift to the window where snow falls in puffy white flakes to the ground, blanketing everything in bright white. “I don’t like who I’m turning into. I’m jealous all the time of all the other girls, even though I know he’s not cheating—” She pulls her lips between her teeth as she shakes her head. Quietly, she admits, “I hate who I’m becoming, and I know if I stay, I’m going to hate him, too.”

My heart skips a beat in my chest, because everything she’s saying is everything, I feared playing out between me and Holt.

“I think you should book a flight, Andy. Just book it and go. Find yourself. Do what you want for you. Be who you want to become.”

“But Micha…”

“If Micha is meant for you, you’ll find your way back to each other,” Shy says confidently. “And if not, then at least you won’t hate him.”

Andy smiles a shaky smile as she flicks away a rogue tear.

I don’t tell her that she might not grow to hate him, but he’ll likely hate her for breaking his heart.

I finish my last shift before a ten-day break for Christmas Holiday by watching snow tumble from a grey sky. The long break in retail is a bonus of working for the family business. Dad has always loved Christmas and he believes people should spend the holiday at home with their loved ones, not rabidly consuming. He’s closed the shop from the twenty-third to the second every year since he opened Foster’s Gear. I don’t imagine he’ll ever change his ways, no matter how big Foster’s Gear gets, Boxing Day be damned.

He’s been dreaming of expanding, so I have no doubt it’ll get big.

Andy and Shy left hours ago, when a small rush of customers intent to wrap up their holiday shopping entered Foster’s Gear. But it’s been at least two hours since my last customer, and I’m feeling the weight of last night’s lack of sleep tugging at my eyelids. The weight is only made worse by watching the hypnotic spiral of snow falling outside the window.

My eyes are burning—but I’d been unable to sleep after that kiss.

Not only had the kiss replayed in my mind over and over again, but I couldn’t shake the need that hummed inside my body afterward. I even tried to touch myself. I hate to admit that I failed to give my body the release I needed.

It made for a hellishly restless night.

My body lurches in my chair when my head drifts a little too far to one side. I realize I’d been on the cusp of falling asleep, so I peel myself from the chair to start cleaning. There’s only an hour left to my shift, anyway.

I’m halfway through mopping when the bells jingle against the glass door. I sigh at the thought of a customer but relax when I see Dad. He stomps his snow-covered boots on the entrance mat, shaking white flakes from his greying hair.

“Hey, kiddo.” Dad tugs at his jacket zipper. “We’re getting a hell of a dump out there.”

“Yeah, it’s going to be a fun walk home.”

“No one is walking home in this.” Dad flips the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. “I’ll give you a ride.” He turns back to me. “But you’re going to want to look into getting yourself a car. You’re going to want that—” He dips his head. “When the baby comes.”

I don’t know why I can’t get used to talking to my Dad about the baby. It feels so—it just feels wrong. Like I’m still his baby, and we’re talking about mine.

“I guess so.”

“I can help you find a good one. Just ask.”

My smile is pinched. “Thank you.”

He steps off the soggy mat. His eyes move over me, lingering at my belly for a moment. He can’t see much beyond the thick material of my oversized hoodie.

Dad says, “You look good, kiddo. Got some color in your cheeks today.”

I think I’ve had color in my cheeks since Tate kissed me.