CHAPTER SIXTEEN

John

I park at the curb in front of Abby’s parents’ house and kill the engine. The silence that falls between us isn’t comfortable anymore. Abby’s knuckles turn white on the door handle, and she squares her shoulders like she’s preparing for battle. I hate that she’s back to seeming so defensive, but who knows what’s waiting inside for her.

I cover her free hand with mine. “We’re here to grab Powerfluff and go. In and out, like a covert operation.”

Abby manages a weak smile, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Right. Operation Rescue Powerfluff.”

I exit the car. The temperature is colder here than at my grandparents’ house, but it’s not snowing. That’ll make for an easier drive home. Even though I usually spend tonight with my family, they understand that would be asking a lot of Abby.

As we approach the front door, torn wrapping paper and empty boxes spill out of a garbage can by the front steps. I make a mental note to call my grandparents tomorrow and tell them how grateful I am for everything they’ve done and continue to do for me and the family.

Abby glances at the bin, takes a deep breath, and rings the doorbell. “I wish we’d taken Powerfluff with us earlier.”

Me too, but I don’t want to admit that and make her feel worse.

The door opens. Abby’s mother appears frazzled and holds a half-empty glass of wine.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she says, her voice sounding tired. “I was worried you’d spend the night there.”

As we step inside, the air is thick with the pine scent of the candle, and a sports announcer recaps a football game on the TV. Abby’s father snores in his chair, the Santa hat askew on his head. Rachel and Jake are huddled on the couch, staring at a tablet, too absorbed to even look up as we enter.

“We’re here to pick up Powerfluff,” Abby says, her voice almost lost amidst the blaring TV.

Abby’s mother waves a dismissive hand. “That cat’s been under your bed all day. How was your Christmas? Did John’s family like you, Abby? I hope you made a good impression.”

Abby stiffens beside me, her smile faltering. Before she can answer, I step in. “They loved her. My grandmother’s already asking when we’re coming back for another visit.”

Rachel’s head snaps up, her gaze sharp as it locks onto Abby. “Oh, how nice,” she says, her tone catty. “I’m sure Abby fit right in with all those fancy people.”

I bite back a retort. My family might be well-off, but they’re anything but the snobbish stereotype she is insinuating. They’re genuine and warm, qualities that seem to be in short supply in this house.

Rachel squints. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Abby says dryly.

“No.” Rachel leans forward. “Around your neck.”

Abby’s hand covers the locket. “It was a gift.”

“From my grandmother.” The words bring the expected reaction from Rachel. I never knew a lower lip could stick out that much. “It’s a family heirloom.”

“Let me see,” Rachel demands.

Abby hasn’t let her hand drop. It’s as if she’s protecting the locket. “It’s late. I need to get Powerfluff so we can head home.”

I follow her, eager to escape the living room and avoid more of Rachel’s thinly veiled comments about the locket being some cheap trinket—a pity gift rather than an heirloom. Even Mrs. Sinclair joins in, and they’re loud enough that Abby can hear them.

The photos along the staircase wall stand out to me. They didn’t before, but now I can’t miss how, in each one, Rachel stands front and center, smiling broadly, while Abby is off to the side, her expression more subdued. It’s exactly how our time here has played out—Rachel, the shining star, and Abby, the shadow.

I hate it.

I hate them.

I need to protect Abby from them.

No, I need to get her away from them.

In Abby’s bedroom, or rather what used to be hers, Abby kneels to peer under the bed. “Come on out, Powerfluff. It’s time to go home, my sweet girl.”

A disgruntled meow sounds, and Powerfluff emerges, her green eyes flashing with irritation.

I laugh at the cat’s expression. “She does seem to share your feelings about this place.”

“Yep.” Abby scoops the cat up, holding her close, her fingers disappearing into the fluff of fur. “Let’s get out of here.”

We gather Abby’s things, which she packed up earlier. Each second here feels too long. As we head downstairs, Rachel intercepts us, a gaudy, rhinestone-encrusted photo frame in hand. The picture inside shows her and Jake, all smiles.

“Look what Jake gave me after you left.” Rachel shoves her gift in our faces. “Isn’t it perfect? I still can’t believe I’m engaged.”

I wrap my arm around Abby’s waist, leaning in just enough to add warmth to my voice. “It’s…sparkly. Congratulations again.”

Rachel beams, clearly pleased with the attention. “Oh, Abby, if you don’t want to be my maid of honor, you can be one of my bridesmaids. I mean, you’re my sister, so I kind of have to ask, and you need to say yes.”

Abby tenses under my arm. The backhanded nature of the invitation makes my blood boil, but Abby just forces a smile. “We can talk about it after the holidays.”

“Great,” Rachel chirps, not reading the room at all. That seems typical of her. “I’m not sure what kind of dresses the bridal party will wear, but nothing too amazing. We wouldn’t want you to outshine the bride.” She laughs like it’s a joke, but I see Abby’s jaw tighten.

I’m about to say something—something that would probably make this awkward situation ten times worse—but Abby’s mother bustles in with a platter of cookies. “You can’t leave yet. I just put out snacks.”

The pies and cakes last night were homemade, but these cookies are store-bought, their edges too uniform and nothing like the homemade warmth we had at my grandparents’ house. “We’re still stuffed from dinner, but thank you.”

Abby’s mother shakes her head and shoves a plastic container into my hands. The contents slosh inside. “Take some leftovers, then. Rachel made the most wonderful casserole. John, you simply must try it!”

I force a smile when all I want to do is grimace. “Thanks, Mrs. Sinclair. That’s generous of you.”

Eddy is still asleep in his recliner, his Santa hat now covering half of his face. Abby takes the lead, and I follow, thankful when we reach the front door. The only one who seems genuinely sad to see us go is Abby’s mother, and even that feels more like obligation than true affection.

If I have my way, this will be the last Christmas Abby spends here unless something changes with her family.

* * *

The car ride back to Abby’s apartment is quiet. She’s fallen asleep, and I don’t want to bother her. I want to shush Powerfluff’s occasional meows from the back seat, but Abby sleeps through them. I keep glancing at her, worried that the past two days might’ve been too much for her. All I want to do is love and protect her.

We pull up to her building, and I see that the electricity is on. Good thing, or she’d be spending tonight at my place.

“Thanks for everything,” she says. “You’ve done so much for me today and yesterday that I’m afraid I’ve forgotten something.”

“Everything works.” I need to say something to her. Something that’s been on my mind since last night. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I had no idea your family is so…”

“Horrible?”

“Yes, but there’s a long list of other adjectives that describe them.” Some I wouldn’t say in front of her.

Her breath fogs the window. “It’s always been this way. Rachel’s the star, and I’m the understudy. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be used to it. You deserve so much better.”

Abby turns to me, her eyes shimmering. “Your family is different. So warm and accepting. I was more at home there in one day than I ever have been with my own family.”

My heart aches, and I smooth her hair. “You’re always welcome to be with us. My grandmother would officially adopt you if she could.”

Abby laughs. “I might take her up on that.”

We sit in comfortable silence. Powerfluff yowls, reminding us of her presence.

I laugh at the cat. “Someone’s ready to be home.”

“Do you want to come in?” Abby asks, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

I grin, already unbuckling my seat belt. “I’d love to.”

As we make our way up to Abby’s apartment, I carry Powerfluff’s crate. This feels so right. The stress and tension from the short visit to her parents’ house is already fading, replaced by a sense of comfort and belonging.

Abby unlocks the door and then opens it. The dark apartment is cold, but she flips a light on.

Powerfluff makes a beeline for the overstuffed couch that looks comfy, curling up with a contented purr. Abby shakes her head. “She’s happy to be home.”

Abby turns more lamps on and adjusts the thermostat. Everything in her apartment is eclectic but pure Abby.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Abby calls over her shoulder as she heads to the kitchen. “I can make us something warm to drink.”

I shrug my coat off and settle onto the couch in the spot next to Powerfluff, who cracks one eye open to stare at me. I notice a white bookcase full of hardcover books. The only photos are of the cat. None of Abby and her family.

Abby returns carrying two steaming cups. This is the woman I know from the office—confident, capable, and caring.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say, accepting the drink. “Just thinking about how amazing you are.”

Abby blushes, squeezing in next to me on the couch. “Flatterer. You’re just saying that because I’m letting you warm up here.”

I take a sip. Peppermint tea. It hits the spot. “That’s not why I’m saying it. Do you know how strong you are? After everything with your family, you’re here and smiling and making me something to drink.”

She stares into her cup. “I don’t always feel strong.”

I set my cup on the coffee table and face her. “But you are. You’ve built a life for yourself and a career. You haven’t let your family’s treatment define you, even though it’s affected you. That takes incredible strength.”

Abby’s gaze is a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “Thank you. For seeing me. Really seeing me.”

I press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Always.”

As we drink our tea, Powerfluff stirs, stretching languidly before sauntering over to investigate what’s in our cups.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Abby gently shoos her away. “You’ve got your own water bowl.”

As we settle into the couch, Abby curls into my side, and Powerfluff purrs contentedly in her lap. I once heard that family isn’t defined by blood but by love and understanding.

I twirl a strand of Abby’s hair around my finger. “My family always has a big New Year’s Eve party. Would you like to come? Powerfluff’s invited, too.”

A slow smile spreads across Abby’s face. “I’d love to. Are you sure your family won’t mind?”

“They’d be offended if you didn’t come. I’ll let my grandma know tomorrow.”

Abby laughs, the sound light and carefree. I want to make her laugh like this as often as possible.

“We’d be honored to attend.” Her posh accent makes me grin.

Her hair is tangled from the drive, and her cheeks are flushed. She is so beautiful, both inside and out.

“You look deep in thought,” Abby says.

I kiss her. “Just thinking how lucky I am to be with you.”

Abby rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Now who’s being cheesy?”

“Hey, it’s Christmas. I’m allowed to be cheesy.” I kiss her again.

As we sit there, trading kisses and soft laughs, Powerfluff purrs contentedly between us. A sense of peace and rightness fills me.

We lie on the couch together, and Abby falls asleep in my arms. It’s not the most comfortable position, especially with Powerfluff nestled at our feet, but I wouldn’t move for all the money in the world.

In Abby and her diva cat, I’ve found my family.

My home.

And I’m going to hold on to them tightly.