Christmas Catch: A Holiday Novella by The 12 NAs of Christmas, Chelsea M. Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

it, but I need advice. And she and Dad have been married for over twenty years. She knows what she’s talking about when it comes to making a relationship work.
    “I don’t. I have no idea what to give him,” I say, slumping down at the table. Mom just laughs and goes to the cupboard, getting out a coffee mug and filling it with water and then putting it in the microwave. It’s instant coffee and chat time.
    She gets the creamer out of the fridge. It’s eggnog flavored. Once the coffee is done and I stir in the creamer, she waits for me to start talking.
    “I don’t know what to give him because I don’t know how I feel, and I don’t want to give him anything that’s romantic, or that makes him think romantic things. So I’m kind of screwed.”
    “That is a dilemma, Ivy. That is a dilemma.” She sips her coffee and waits for me to ask for her advice. She won’t give it until I ask.
    “Tell me what to do, I know you’re dying to,” I say and she beams and then leans in.
    “Well, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but if I were you, I’d do something that you used to do. You know him inside and out. The best answer is sometimes the simplest. What did you used to get him?”
    “But if I do something like that, he’s going to read something into it.”
    She shrugs and I sip from my own cup. “Maybe he will and maybe he won’t. But if you don’t do anything, you’re going to feel like an asshole, so suck it up and figure it out.” Sometimes my mom rivals Allison’s bubbe for her blunt advice. Shut your mouth and do it. Grow some lady balls.
    Okay, I’ll just do that.
    Where the hell do I start?
     

     
    I go to my thinking spot and park my car. It’s too cold to sit on the hood, so I stay inside with the heater on and my blanket around me. The snow starts to spit again. It’s been doing that, not really committing to a full storm, just teasing us with the possibility of a white Christmas.
    I’d like that, while I was here. Our house looks so pretty all covered in white, like’s it’s been frosted. Everything keeps running as usual when we have storms, except for school, if there’s a lot of snow. Everyone walks to each other’s houses and hangs out and watches movies and eats snacks in front of the woodstove. I’d done that a lot with Sawyer. So many times I lost count.
    And suddenly, I have an idea.
    Sawyer and I had a snow day ritual, and if the weather cooperates with me, it’s going to snow enough that it will be tricky driving. I just have to get a few things first.
     

     
    Saltwater may not be an island, but it feels that way most of the time. To get to any sort of major town with more than a few thousand people you have to do a lot of driving. In some ways, being isolated keeps the world out, but it also keeps us in. Sheltered.
    People use that an excuse to never go anywhere, seek anything else.
    As I head out of town I think about how long I’m going to stay. My break goes past New Years. I have quite a few papers to write that are going to require research, but the tiny Saltwater library just outside of town has Wi-Fi and I don’t think they would mind if I snuck in a mug of coffee. And it would make mom happy.
    And Sawyer. There’s always Sawyer.
    Half an hour later I feel like I’m back in “civilization”. I hit the McDonald’s for a caffeine buzz, the pharmacy to get a new bottle of shampoo, and the grocery store to get the things for my present to Sawyer. I also stop at the small department store and buy an extra blanket. I always used to tease Sawyer about stealing mine, but he just said that he liked being wrapped in something that smelled like me.
    Despite his career change, Sawyer still smells the same, and not like fish or bait at all. It’s so bizarre that he’s running his father’s business. It’s hard to think of him as an adult, making decisions like that. I’d kind of like to see it in action.
    Mom calls me when I’m walking back to my car. The snow