Chapter 1
Shelby wraps her hand around a wooden beam that rises from the foundation and leans out, swinging around it with her other arm up in the air. A second later she stumbles away, yanking her hand back and shaking it. “Ow! Stupid thing gave me a splinter.”
“It’s wooden and square,” I say shoving her in the shoulder as we walk through the skeleton of a house. “What did you expect would happen?”
“I was trying to be whimsical,” she says, squinting at her palm. “It’s a beautiful night, after all.”
I step over a bucket full of nails and lean against a two by four that makes up the staircase in the center of the living room in the Carter’s new house. Though it will eventually be a two story, four thousand square foot home, right now it’s just concrete and wooden beams surrounded by patches of grass and pallets of construction materials.
Looking up, I gaze into the starry night sky, still marveling at how beautiful the nights are here in Mixon, Texas where the only light pollution comes from my dad’s motocross track. My breath escapes in puffs of white and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stay warm in my fleece jacket.
It’s Christmas Eve, the night my family has been preparing for all month. Christmas at Mixon—a fun-filled holiday activity for the whole family! My dad has turned his motocross track into a winter wonderland with Christmas lights strung up all over the place, a fake snow machine for the kids, food venders, hot chocolate, and of course, motocross. The night track is open until midnight with free admission.
Dad even managed to coordinate with the town’s Christmas parade committee so that the annual parade that goes through town will end in the field in front of the motocross track. Sure, it’ll be busy as hell and full of people but Dad swears this will be great for business. The whole staff at the motocross park has been buzzing with excitement all month as we unpacked boxes of decorations and lights, wearing Santa hats and bells around our necks.
Everyone has been psyched for tonight. Everyone but me.
“Shelby . . .” I say, feeling a sudden chill that can’t be warmed with a jacket. All month I’d planned for this event thinking that I’d get to wrap my arms around my boyfriend and watch the parade with him beside me. Now he’s not coming home for the holiday and I can’t find a single strand of Christmas joy anymore. I sigh. “I miss Ash.”
Her gaze turns serious as she turns and sits on an unfinished wooden stair. “I miss him, too. It doesn’t feel like Christmas Eve without him here.”
I sigh. “I wouldn’t know since I didn’t know Ash existed last Christmas.”
“Christmas with my brother is magical,” she says. “He always picks out the best presents for each person in our family and wears his Santa hat as he helps Dad cook the dinner. Then he turns on his hat and hands out presents to everyone. He’s really big into celebrating holidays.”
“Turns on his hat?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“There’s little lights around the white fur part,” she says. “And if you squeeze the pompom on the top, it plays Jingle Bells. I’m telling you, he loves Christmas.”
I smile, picturing Ash wearing a hat like that. The knot in my stomach seems to twist into an even bigger knot upon hearing Shelby’s cherished memories. This stupid knot had formed five days ago when Ash told me over the phone that his team would be caught up in training for a New Years’ race at Anaheim and wouldn’t make it back home for Christmas.
I knew what I was signing up for when I fell for a guy who’d just accepted a professional motocross contract with Team Yamaha. Although this past summer was my first foray into the sport of motocross, I knew he’d be traveling around to a different part of the state each week, racing in arenas and stadiums in front of tens of thousands of people. Yet somehow, dating Ash Carter had seemed like a great
Shelby wraps her hand around a wooden beam that rises from the foundation and leans out, swinging around it with her other arm up in the air. A second later she stumbles away, yanking her hand back and shaking it. “Ow! Stupid thing gave me a splinter.”
“It’s wooden and square,” I say shoving her in the shoulder as we walk through the skeleton of a house. “What did you expect would happen?”
“I was trying to be whimsical,” she says, squinting at her palm. “It’s a beautiful night, after all.”
I step over a bucket full of nails and lean against a two by four that makes up the staircase in the center of the living room in the Carter’s new house. Though it will eventually be a two story, four thousand square foot home, right now it’s just concrete and wooden beams surrounded by patches of grass and pallets of construction materials.
Looking up, I gaze into the starry night sky, still marveling at how beautiful the nights are here in Mixon, Texas where the only light pollution comes from my dad’s motocross track. My breath escapes in puffs of white and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stay warm in my fleece jacket.
It’s Christmas Eve, the night my family has been preparing for all month. Christmas at Mixon—a fun-filled holiday activity for the whole family! My dad has turned his motocross track into a winter wonderland with Christmas lights strung up all over the place, a fake snow machine for the kids, food venders, hot chocolate, and of course, motocross. The night track is open until midnight with free admission.
Dad even managed to coordinate with the town’s Christmas parade committee so that the annual parade that goes through town will end in the field in front of the motocross track. Sure, it’ll be busy as hell and full of people but Dad swears this will be great for business. The whole staff at the motocross park has been buzzing with excitement all month as we unpacked boxes of decorations and lights, wearing Santa hats and bells around our necks.
Everyone has been psyched for tonight. Everyone but me.
“Shelby . . .” I say, feeling a sudden chill that can’t be warmed with a jacket. All month I’d planned for this event thinking that I’d get to wrap my arms around my boyfriend and watch the parade with him beside me. Now he’s not coming home for the holiday and I can’t find a single strand of Christmas joy anymore. I sigh. “I miss Ash.”
Her gaze turns serious as she turns and sits on an unfinished wooden stair. “I miss him, too. It doesn’t feel like Christmas Eve without him here.”
I sigh. “I wouldn’t know since I didn’t know Ash existed last Christmas.”
“Christmas with my brother is magical,” she says. “He always picks out the best presents for each person in our family and wears his Santa hat as he helps Dad cook the dinner. Then he turns on his hat and hands out presents to everyone. He’s really big into celebrating holidays.”
“Turns on his hat?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“There’s little lights around the white fur part,” she says. “And if you squeeze the pompom on the top, it plays Jingle Bells. I’m telling you, he loves Christmas.”
I smile, picturing Ash wearing a hat like that. The knot in my stomach seems to twist into an even bigger knot upon hearing Shelby’s cherished memories. This stupid knot had formed five days ago when Ash told me over the phone that his team would be caught up in training for a New Years’ race at Anaheim and wouldn’t make it back home for Christmas.
I knew what I was signing up for when I fell for a guy who’d just accepted a professional motocross contract with Team Yamaha. Although this past summer was my first foray into the sport of motocross, I knew he’d be traveling around to a different part of the state each week, racing in arenas and stadiums in front of tens of thousands of people. Yet somehow, dating Ash Carter had seemed like a great
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