All I Want (Three Holiday Romances) Read online

  Copyright 2012 Jolene Perry, Kaylee Baldwin, and Rachael Anderson

  Kindle Edition.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. The opinions and views expressed herein belong solely to the author and do not necessarily represent the opinions or views of HEA Publishing. Permission for the use of sources, graphics, and photos is also solely the responsibility of the author.

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  Jolene Perry

  YA Titles

  Insight, Spill Over, My Heart for Yours, Knee Deep, Night Sky

  LDS Fiction

  Next Door Boys, Left to Love, My Forever

  New Adult Fiction

  10 Weeks, Falling

  Kaylee Baldwin

  Meg’s Melody

  Rachael Anderson

  The Reluctant Bachelorette, Divinely Designed, Luck of the Draw, Minor Adjustments

  Pretty Near Perfect

  Six Days of Christmas

  Twist of Fate

  I’M NOT READY TO GET OUT OF THE CAR. Not yet. Not here.

  Jacob’s parents’ house. My heart rips a little at the thought of his name, at the familiar home with its perfect shutters, Christmas lights, and picket-fenced front yard. Snow piles high on the roof reflecting the colored lights in a soft glow. Maybe it was a mistake to come here, but it’s not like my options were numerous.

  My parents don’t celebrate Christmas, and Tabby’s family is a bit overwhelming—though, since she’s been my best friend through college, I’ve spent a lot of holidays with them. I also know that part of me being at Jacob’s house and being okay means I can move on. And I’m not at all ready to spend a Christmas alone.

  It wasn’t just Jacob I fell in love with. I fell in love with his family, and I’m determined to keep in contact with them. The ten or so invites from Jean said that she really wanted me in Boulder for Christmas. So here I am. Stalling.

  Okay, Norah. Get out of the car. Now. Go.

  But my hands clutch the steering wheel, unwilling to move just yet. I haven’t seen his brother, Brady, since the funeral. Eight months. His parents I’ve seen plenty of times, but not for a while, not since there was a chance of possibly seeing Christmas decorations when I visit.

  A year ago Jacob and I knew exactly where our lives were headed. Now . . . Now I’m just sort of going through the motions. I’ve been doing a better job at going through the motions over the last two months or so, but suddenly it feels like I haven’t moved forward or beyond. This house is the same. Last year, sitting in front of this place was a whole different kind of nerves. Nerves of excitement, anticipation. . .

  Last year was pretty near perfect.

  This year it’s more like dread.

  I check my reflection in the mirror again—smoothing my blunt cut bangs a few times before running my fingers through the short, dark ends, and checking my lip-gloss. Okay. Now I need to get out.

  As I stand up, my knee-length green coat drops down, and I pull in a deep breath. The cold is sharp in my lungs, but gives me something real. Something other than the ache in my chest at spending Christmas in this house. Without Jacob.

  I pull open the backdoor of my car, grab my small plaid suitcase, and step through the gate. It closes shut behind me, and I stand and stare at the house for a few more moments. It looks like the front of a Christmas postcard or magazine or—

  “Norah!” Jean waves from the door. “Come in! It’s freezing out there!”

  I plaster on what I’m sure is a weak smile, and start toward the stairs. I’m a bit shaky, but I’ll manage. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. Not after the past eight months.

  Her arm is on my shoulder as soon as I make it to the porch. “I don’t know how you girls navigate the ice and snow in those heeled boots.” She shakes her head as she looks down at my feet.

  “Oh.” I glance down briefly, but my brain and heart have sort of taken over. So different from last year. Last year Jacob had just proposed, and we’d run up this same path, and he’d half-dragged me through the door before yelling to his family, “We’re getting married!”

  We were mauled by hugs, kisses, and congratulations.

  Jean must see my expression because her hands come around me from the side, pulling me into her.

  “We all miss him, sweetie. But I don’t want this holiday to be about that.” Her short, grey curls brush against my cheek as she pulls me close.

  How can it not be? is what I want to say, but don’t. I just hug her back.

  The house smells just how I remember—like pumpkin pie and cinnamon spices. I slide my boots off, hang my coat in the closet, and look up the stairs. Not going up there yet. Not until I have to.

  “We’ve been baking, and I think there’s some dinner left. Come on in.” Jean’s still smiling at the edge of the small entry.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen in a minute. I need to use the restroom first.” To see if I can breathe in this house. If I can slow my heart down. If I can stay here and do this.

  Maybe she understands I need a minute, maybe not. Either way she turns and moves to the back of the house. I take what I hope will be a relaxing breath.

  I pass by the Christmas tree and stop. Last year was the first year of my life where I celebrated Christmas like I’d always imagined—carols, cookies, decorations, family . . . I had non-practicing Jewish parents who used it as an excuse to not celebrate anything.

  This train of thought isn’t going to help me any either. I weave through the overstuffed furniture and pass the large woodstove. As I round the corner into the dining room, my body slams into someone. I jerk away, but my hands are still on his chest.

  Unfamiliar eyes look down on me under a set of thick lashes and dark, curly hair. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t see you.”

  “I get that a lot.” I smirk. “My lack of height and all.” And then I realize that my hands are still on his chest, right at eye level. I stare at them for a moment, almost like I’m puzzled that they’re still there, and instead of jerking them away, like I probably should, they slide down over abs that are a lot harder than I’d guess for being under a conservative grey sweater.

  He smiles back, an unassuming, smile of nearly even, white teeth. “Well, it could also be my fault, you know. Maybe I’m so tall I can’t see what’s going on around me.”

  Nice.

  Tingle-in-my-stomach worthy. Kind eyes. Very nice. Looks like a messy-professor type. And his tall lankiness just adds to the whole package of awkward-adorable man. If there is such a category. Also, he’s the opposite of the stocky boys that belong in this house, making me wonder where he comes from. Now I have to wonder how I went from dreading being here to flirtation?

  Oh, wait. Hands. I jerk mine away, feeling a bit like I was just totally feeling up some guy I’ve never met.

  “I see you’ve met Collin.” Brady steps to the side of his friend and slaps him on the shoulder.

  “Not officially.” My heart’s hammering. Been so long since I’ve seen Brady. The brother. I’m now back to something like dread.

  “I’m Norah.” I stick out my hand to Collin, who takes it in a re
al handshake. It’s a nice distraction from Brady, and a very nice warm hand—just too brief.

  “Collin.”

  “Norah.” But I already said that. I’m seriously not thinking straight, and now that I’m done meeting—and running into—Collin, I have to face Brady.

  I go from sort of giddy over being in proximity with someone who puts tingles in my stomach, to Brady, who . . . well, there just aren’t words. But the sinking in my gut goes deeper, makes me ask the question, again, What am I doing here?

  “Been too long,” he says. There are similarities between him and Jacob—same brown eyes, same brown hair, same wide stance, but it’s not too bad. It’s just that they go together, and they’re not together. Just another thing to slice into me.

  I nod, once again, unable to come up with something to say. It’s better and worse than I thought it would be to see him again.

  “You look . . .”

  I glance down at my simple black T-shirt dress and patterned tights.

  “Stunning. As you always do.” He steps forward and pulls me into a hug.

  I wrap my arms tightly around him, and soak him in for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t smart of me to keep myself away from Brady. Maybe it would have helped me heal up faster. But he feels too much like his brother. Smells too much like him. As Brady’s arms wrap around my back, I think about Jacob and how he’d do the same thing, only lower.

  “You okay?” Brady whispers.

  No. Not okay. “Why, am I crushing you?” I tease as I jump back, dropping my hands quickly to my sides, and then shoving them into my dress pockets.

  He laughs. Because there’s no way for someone as waif-like as me to crush someone as broad as him. And I need him to laugh. I need anything to keep me in the present.

  “Come on in.” His large hand engulfs mine as he drags me into the kitchen. I spin around to find Collin again, but he’s gone. Probably just as well. Someone as easy to flirt with as him shouldn’t be in close proximity to me. Not now. And definitely not in this house.

  “Norah!” Scott, Jacob’s dad, grabs me in another hug that suffocates me in several ways. “Gorgeous as ever! Look at you!” He holds me at arms’ length, and chuckles. “We need to get some meat on those tiny bones.”

  “Yeah.” I glance down, not sure if I believe him or not.

  I’m led to a stool and fed cookies, hot chocolate, and leftover chicken soup until I feel like I’ll explode. I should probably be thankful that they still want me around.

  I field questions about my new photography studio, and how I feel after graduating from college, and how the renovations of my house in Denver are coming along, has the studio kept me busy enough, and my parents, and my friend Tabby, and no one mentions Jacob, or me dating, or anything that could bring an awkward moment. Maybe because it just is awkward. Or maybe I’m feeling things that aren’t here.

  “I know it’s weird to stay in Jacob’s room, but it’s what we have.” Jean steps up the stairs behind me.

  All I can think is: please let it be different. Please let it be different.

  I push open the door and my heart drops. It’s barely different. The photographs he took are still all over the walls and the peaked roof. The comforter is new, but it feels like his mom has half-moved him out, and can’t let go of the rest of him.

  “Um . . . thanks.” But I can’t tear my eyes off the surroundings to look at her.

  “I’m so glad you felt okay about joining us.” Her hand runs across my back a few times.

  “Yeah.” Okay . . . But not positive . . .

  She backs out of Jacob’s room leaving me fully stunned, speechless, and full of things I thought I’d let go of. The last bits of Jacob. Maybe he’ll never go away, and I just need to get used to it.

  That’s sort of a depressing thought. At the same time, I know I can do this. I know that if I can be here through this holiday, with this family, that it’ll give me the confidence to really move on. To get past this. To start moving forward with my new future rather than mourning the one I almost had.

  I toss my bag on the bed, unsure if I’ll be able to sleep in this room. Jacob snuck in here with me every night and held me until I fell asleep. He’d whisper in my ear how much he loved me, how hard he was going to work to make sure that I had the best, happiest, life ever. How beautiful I was, how talented I was. And then we’d end up kissing for half the night instead of sleeping.

  Okay. Have to shove this away. Have to.

  I don’t want to feel lonely. Well, that’s a stupid thing to say. No one wants to feel lonely. It sucks.

  I dig through my bag and pull out pajamas. Maybe doing something normal will help me to feel less. A month ago I’d have never guessed that the memories would hit me this hard. I’ve been doing good. Even went out on a couple of dates while doubling with Tabby.

  Now I feel like I’ve slid back six months. As I sit on the corner of the bed, it creaks, nearly choking me. I can feel Jacob trying to sneak into bed, wincing every time the old springs protested.

  I need out of here.

  The house is dark and quiet as I tip-toe down the stairs, making me wonder how long I stood in sad silence.

  Jean has nightlights throughout the whole house, illuminating the walls in dim, yellow light. There are pictures of Jacob, Brady and Liz everywhere. Their sister, Liz, is on the east coast with her family now and doesn’t come home much. Brady’s the baby and is home a lot. And I . . . I don’t know what I am. I’m the girl who was almost, but not quite, part of their family. Maybe they just feel bad for me because I don’t really have a relationship with my parents. Maybe it’s more than that. Maybe less. I’m not sure. Maybe it’s simply pity knowing this should have been the first Christmas Jacob and I would have spent as a married couple.

  I plug in the Christmas tree lights, flop on the couch, and my phone beeps in a text.

  Hank: How’s your trip?

  Me: Heading to bed. We’ll talk later.

  Hank: :D

  That guy. Always with the smileys. I should think it’s endearing, and maybe I would if I was at all attracted to him. To say that he’s eager to go out again would be a drastic understatement. I’m still not sure how I feel about that. He’s okay, but he’s missing . . . something. And the fact that I feel nearly, almost ready, to be dating again means that I shouldn’t be feeling this weight on my chest right now over losing Jacob.

  The backdoor opens, sending a frigid blast through the room. Collin steps inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

  He freezes as our eyes meet. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know anyone was awake.”

  “Just me.” I sit up straighter on the couch and pull my knees up as the cold air continues to hit.

  “Their tree is pretty amazing.” He gestures loosely with a hand.

  “I have a feeling it always has been.”

  A smile plays on his lips. “Yeah, they strike me as the type.”

  “You’re a friend of Brady’s?” I’m not sure why I ask, since it seems obvious.

  Collin steps into the room and stands by the couch. “Roommate. He rents a room in my house.”

  “Oh.” I can’t imagine this tall, lanky, sweater-wearing guy rooming with smelly, jock-boy Brady.

  “I didn’t know when he invited me . . . I mean, I knew about his brother. I just didn’t know this was the first Christmas, or that—”

  “His ex-fiancé would be here?” I raise my brows.

  “Or that.” He gives me sort of an apologetic frown, but it’s not like the horrible sympathy kind. It’s the, ‘I get this situation is really bizarre’ kind, which is definitely better.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s nice that there’s someone here who sees them for the sort-of-perfect family group they are.” I attempt a smile.

  Collin’s grin stretches out again. “Yeah, I always thought stuff like this was for Hallmark movies or something.”

  “A big Hallmark movie watcher, are you?” I tease.

  He lo
oks down, and even in the soft light I can see that I’ve embarrassed him.

  “Sit. I mean, if you’re not sleeping.” And now that I’ve offered, I wonder if it’s somehow too personal.

  He takes one step toward me, and then another one. When he sits, he sits on the far end of the sofa.

  “Worried I’ll bite?” Maybe I’m being too forward. It’s not like me. Well, it is like me—just not like the me I’ve been for the past eight months.

  “No.” He shakes his head. “I just . . . I don’t know. Guess I shouldn’t worry about being careful around you because it’ll only make you feel worse.”

  “Possibly. I’ll get enough reminders from his family I’m sure.” From the house, from his mom, from his dad, his brother, the room, the squeaky mattress . . .

  “How are you? Or is that a totally rude question to ask?” He slumps down in the couch, his gangly body like tree limbs spreading around him.

  “Before I came here I thought I was great. Finally ready to maybe start my life again for real.” Once the words come out, I know it has to fall under the category of too much information, but maybe it feels like it doesn’t matter because I don’t know him. And I’ll probably never see him again. Well, after the weekend. Also, I have a serious weakness for kind eyes.

  “And now?” His gaze is unwavering, and probably sees way too deep.

  “Now I’m supposed to sleep in Jacob’s room, only I can’t imagine doing that.”

  “I’d offer you my spot, but I’m rooming with Brady and he snores.” A corner of his mouth pulls up into another awkward-adorable half-smile.

  I chuckle. “I’ll survive it. Probably.”

  “You could just tell them you fell asleep on the couch. I’ve done that twice in the week since Brady and I got here.”

  “So, you must be a student then, too, huh?” I ask.