Going for a ten mile run earlier had exhausted me, but not enough. I’d baked sugar cookies shaped in trees, candy canes, and stars took my mind off of everything for a couple of hours, and then the doorbell had rang and the post office delivery person presented me with four different boxes labeled to me. I’d opened them up like a little kid.

My foster parents, Diana, her parents, and my little brother had all sent me gifts in different levels of wrapping. I’d gotten a pack of water colors, colored pencils, several pairs of new underwear—from the only person who would buy me that—a pretty watch, and pajamas.

Miss u, a card in my little brother’s gift said. He was spending the holidays with one of his teammate’s family in Florida.

I’d sent them all gifts two weeks before, even sending my mom and her husband a gift basket. Luckily, I hadn’t been expecting a present from them, otherwise I would have been sorely disappointed. The gifts served to make me feel loved and lonely, and I wasn’t sure how the hell it was possible to feel two such conflicting emotions.

Aiden had been home since noon, and I could tell he was in a strange mood. He’d been awfully quiet, spending his time working out and also working on a puzzle in the breakfast nook while I’d made cookies, and then he’d headed upstairs saying he was going to take a nap. I stayed downstairs only long enough to make sure Aiden was asleep; then I’d taken off to pick up his present. Luckily, he’d still been asleep when I got home, and I set his gift up in the garage, confident that Aiden wouldn’t be leaving anywhere and spoil his surprise. Inside, I turned on the television to drown out any possible noises that came from the garage, then sat on the floor and used the watercolors my foster parents had sent me.

I kept checking the garage every hour since then. Nearly all the lights in the house were turned off when I made my way through the house with the package in my hand, my back aching from so much time hunched over. At the bottom of the stairs, I listened for Aiden, but there wasn’t a peep. Why would there be? Despite it being Christmas Eve, he’d had to wake up early and report to team headquarters to check in with the trainers because his lower back had been giving him trouble the last couple of weeks.

In the laundry room, I set the carrier down. I’d already put two blankets inside, refilled the water bottle mounted to the door, and put food into the small bowl that attached to the door too. I’d let the little rascal out on the front lawn and waited until it pooped and peed. The cute face peeked out at me through the grate and I stuck my fingers in there to give its nose a rub.

While the garage was well insulated, and I knew it wouldn’t be cold, I hated the idea of leaving him in there. Taking it up to my room was out of the question because I had a feeling it would bark. I left the light on for him and made my way back to the kitchen where I cracked open the container of sugar cookies I made and inhaled two of them.

I turned off all the lights except the set under the kitchen cabinets, filled a glass with water, and headed upstairs. In my room, I grabbed clothes to take a shower, feeling downright off. I stayed under the stream longer than I usually would have and climbed out of the tub, telling myself to quit being such a party pooper.

I had just opened the bathroom door when I heard, “Van?”

“Aiden?” Okay, that was a stupid question. Who else would it be? With my dirty clothes under my arm, I walked down the hall. His door was open. Usually when he went to sleep, he closed it, and I guess I hadn’t glanced over when I’d come upstairs.

Sitting with his back propped up against the headboard, a bedside lamp illuminated part of the room. Half of his body was under the covers and the other half was unfortunately covered in a T-shirt by one of his endorsers. Aiden gave me a speculative look.

“Are you okay?” I asked, resting my shoulder against the doorframe.

“Yes,” he answered in such an earnest, easy way that I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Huh. “What are you doing?” The television wasn’t on and a book was set on his nightstand.

“I was thinking about the game last week, and what I could have done differently.”

Of all the things in the world, why did that just happen to reach straight into my ribs and grab my heart? “Of course you were.”

Aiden lifted one of those big, brawny shoulders, his eyes going to the super, sexy long-sleeved button up flannel pajamas I had on. “Are you going to sleep?” he asked, even as his gaze raked its way back up to my face.

“I’m not that tired. I’ll probably watch some more TV or something.”

Even in the dark light, I could tell his cheek twitched. “Watch it with me,” he suggested easily.

Wait. What?

“You’re not tired?”

“I took a long nap. There’s no chance I’m going to sleep soon,” he explained.

I smiled and rubbed my foot along the edge of where the hardwood floor hallway met the carpet of his bedroom. “Are you sure you don’t have more plays to think about?”

Aiden gave me a sour look.

He was inviting me to watch television with him. What other answer was there besides, “Okay”?

By the time I got back to his room after depositing my dirty clothes in the hamper in my room, the big guy had scooted over to one side of the bed and turned on the forty-something inch television propped on one of his dressers. With his hands linked behind his head, he watched me as I came in, feeling just slightly awkward.

I gave him a tiny smile and kept eye contact as I pulled the comforter up and slipped under it, waiting to see if he’d complain. He didn’t. There was about two feet of space between us on the California King. I moved the pillow against the headboard and settled in with a sigh.

“Van?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

Tugging the sheets up to my neck, I blinked at the ceiling. “Nothing.”

“Don’t make me ask you again.”

And that only made me feel bad. It was easy to forget how much he knew about me. “I’m fine. I’ve just been feeling pretty mopey today for some reason, maybe it’s hormones or something. That’s all.” I wrung my hands. “It’s dumb. I love Christmas.”

There was a pause before he asked, “You don’t visit your mom?”

“No.” I realized after I said it how dismissive I sounded. “My sisters spend it with her. She’s married now and has step-kids that go over there. She’s not alone.” And even if she were all by herself, I would still not go. I could be honest with myself.

“Where’s your brother?”

“With his friend.”

“Your friend? Diana?”

With how busy he’d been, we hadn’t spent much time together other than saying ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ and catching some TV at the same time. “She’s with her family.” After I said it, I realized how it sounded. “I swear, I’m usually okay. I just feel off, I guess. What about you? Are you fine?”

“I’ve spent most of my Christmas’ alone for the last decade. It isn’t a big deal.”

Of all the people to spend the holidays with, it was with the one whose history was a little too similar to mine. “I guess the good thing is, you don’t have to spend it alone anymore if you don’t want to.” I’m not sure why I said what I said next, but I did. “At least while you’re stuck with me.”

Could I sound any more pathetic?

“I am stuck with you, aren’t I?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice.

He was trying to make me feel better, wasn’t he? “For the next four years and eight months.” I smiled over at him even as this incredible sense of sadness filled my belly like sand in an hourglass.

His head jerked back. The action was tiny, tiny, tiny, but it had been there.

Or had I imagined it?

Before I could wonder too much about whether he’d reacted or not, the big guy who seemed to swallow up his bed, bluntly asked, “Are you finally going to tell me what your sister did to piss you off?”