FAE-ted by Linda Palmer Read Free Book Online

she cuddles."
    So we were back to the perv thing. "So do I on occasion.
Hopefully I didn't last night..." Or fart, or snore, or drool, or moan
your stupid name in my sleep.
    He just grinned that grin that would've taken me to my
knees if I'd been standing.
    I sat up and wiggled out of the covers, scooting to the end of
the bed once I'd managed that. Walking over to Nate's window, I
looked out to check the weather status. Though the sky still looked
stormy, the window pane felt cold to the touch, which meant the
storm front had brought us cooler air, always welcome around
Christmas. How people in the tropics got into the holiday mood, I just
didn't know.
    I checked the clock radio: 8:00 a.m. Without a glance in
Nate's direction, I walked to Anna's room and got my clothes. In her
bathroom, I washed up and put my hair in a real ponytail. I also
applied a little make-up before I dressed. My thoughts were on last
night's storm and this morning's shock of finding myself lying so
close to Nate. It was a feeling I could get used to, and I wished I'd
milked it for all it was worth. Instead, I'd bolted from the bed like the
coward I was.
    Once ready for the day, I wasn't sure what to do. I thought of
checking on Anna, but felt hesitant to enter Nate's room. So I went
downstairs to look in the fridge for breakfast food. Or was Anna
planning on McDonald's again? Unsure, I sat on a stool and drummed
my fingers on the bar for at least a half hour.
    "Here she is." Nate and Anna walked into the room. I saw
that she'd put on the clothing I'd packed for her. I also saw that Nate
had on jeans and an Old Navy T-shirt that really brought out the
color of his eyes. His chin and cheeks were a little whiskery, a look
that suited him, and when the two of them stopped within touching
distance, I sat on my hands so I wouldn't.
    "I pooped," Anna said. "Nate wiped me."
    With a delighted laugh, I high-fived both of them. "You've
come a long way, Prince Nate."
    "Yeah. I think I've really got it now." He seemed quite
proud of himself.
    I gave myself a mental pat on the back for my small part in
his transformation. "I think so, too. When are your folks getting
home?"
    "Around noon."
    "My brothers will be at my house by ten. Since I should
probably be there when they arrive, you'd better take me home." I
slipped off my stool, my eyes on Anna, who I'd expected to disagree.
"You and Nate can go to McDonald's after you drop me off."
    "But I want you to come, too."
    "I wish I could, but the Brantley's have some Christmas Eve
traditions. That means family stuff we do every single year."
    Anna pouted, but didn't argue. Neither did Nate. That didn't
surprise or hurt me. I hadn't expected anything else. A wildest dream
was a wildest dream, right? Even Santa had his limits.
    When Nate pulled into my driveway a half hour later, I
hopped right out of the car and shut my door instead of asking them
inside--something I might've done if my heart wasn't breaking. But it
was. So I blew a kiss to Anna through her window, waved to Nate,
and ran inside without a backward glance, stopping to lean against
the front door the moment I shut it. There I caught my breath and
composed myself. Mom and Dad would have questions; I needed to
be able to answer them without crying. My mood would affect my
family, and I could think of nothing worse than the blue Christmas
that could result.
    Once my brothers got home we did our usual holiday things
from baking cookies to delivering them to beloved neighbors. Mom,
Josh, and I watched A Christmas Carol ; Dad, Mick, and I
watched A Christmas Story. Afterward we made fudge. In
short, I found myself smack in the middle of my world again, missing
Nate like crazy.
    I couldn't count the times when I saw a guy out of the corner
of my eye and looked to my right or left, expecting to see him instead
of a brother. Remembering stories of how people with amputations
still experienced phantom pain, I equated my loss to that. Nate and
Anna had exited my life