Should've Been You

by Nicole McLaughlin

  She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “That’s not true.”

  He brushed his thumb over her lips. “Shh. You saying no doesn’t make it not true. You were better than me. Too good. Too pure. Too . . . everything. But I dreamed about being good enough.”

  “You loved Hannah,” she whispered.

  “I did. I still do. But not the way you think. She needed attention, and I wanted to be needed. Important to someone. We were a match made in heaven in that way. She liked me showing ownership of her, and I liked showing it. It wasn’t the healthiest relationship, but it got us through some tough times.”

  “What kind of tough times?” she asked. But he just shook his head.

  “Point is, what we had wasn’t the kind of love that endures. It was never . . . romantic love. I can see that now. I’ve known it for a long time, actually. And she has, too.”

  “Have you . . . slept with her?” Becca pursed her lips. Obviously, the answer was important to her, and Jase was almost surprised she didn’t know it already, considering they were sisters.

  “No. I haven’t.” He didn’t miss the look of relief on her face.

  “But you’ve been with other women?”

  He laughed quietly. “I have. Yes. And I know she’s obviously been with other guys.”

  She tilted her head the other way. “I’m sorry. Those were personal questions and none of my business.”

  “I don’t mind you asking me personal questions, Becca. We spent a lot of years not talking or getting to know each other as well as we should. We should make up for that.”

  “Possibly.”

  “No, absolutely. How should we start?” He grinned down at her, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss her pretty red lips. It might make him a cold-hearted bastard for considering it so soon after finding out she’d broken up with her boyfriend, but so be it. Now there was nothing stopping them. “Want me to tell you my idea?”

  EIGHT

  Oh yes. And please let it involve your mouth.

  The back door creaked opened, followed by the stomping of boots. Becca instantly pulled away from Jase. She turned back to the box of ornaments on the sofa.

  “Where is everyone?” Hannah called out from the kitchen.

  Becca’s eyes dropped shut. How typical. She should have known it was her twin based on the amount of noise she’d made coming in the door. Still, she was happy to see Hannah, since they’d barely spoken earlier in the week when she’d been there. Becca forced a smile into her voice as Jase took a seat in her father’s recliner. “In the living room!” she yelled.

  Hannah came bustling into the room, a Target bag on one arm, her purse on the other, and a Starbucks cup in each hand. “Merry Christmas Eve, Eve.”

  “To you also,” Becca said. “I didn’t know you were coming up.”

  “Well, when Dad texted me you were back I had to rush up here before you ran off again. Brought you a peppermint mocha latte with whip.” Hannah smiled holding out one of the red coffee cups. Becca’s mouth watered as she took it.

  “Thank you. I never treat myself to fancy coffee.”

  “Oh good, I’m glad it’s a treat then.” Hannah said turning to Jase who had sat back down in an arm chair. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were here or I’d have brought you one.”

  “I’m good with Folgers,” he said holding up his mug. The same ones they’d had in the Walters home since Becca was a child.

  Hannah turned back to Becca. “I look forward to our holiday breaks since I never get to see you. I hated that you didn’t come last year. I decided to stay tonight and tomorrow night with you.”

  “Really? That will be fun,” Becca said. And she was glad. It was rare for them to be together, so this would be nice.

  “So, what’s up with Brian?” Hannah asked.

  Becca nearly groaned. She didn’t want to discuss this again, not with Hannah. Definitely not with Jase here. But she could hardly ignore the topic. “We had an argument. A pretty big one.”

  “Is he coming up for Christmas?” Hannah asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She looked good today. Her hair up in the perfect tousled bun, her lipstick red, and her boots the trendiest style. Hannah was a teacher like Becca, but she taught fourth grade. Becca could only imagine how awesome all her students probably thought she was.

  “No. Brian won’t be here for Christmas.”

  “Seriously?” Hannah said as she walked over and plopped herself down on the arm of the chair Jase had sat down in. Really?

  Jase said her name quietly in what sounded like a protest, but Hannah either didn’t hear or ignored it. The look he gave Becca almost looked like an apology, but he didn’t push her off the chair.

  “I can’t believe he’s not going to come for Christmas.” Hannah leaned over, resting her shoulder on Jase’s. In the right setting, their interactions could almost be those of siblings, but Becca knew better, and she couldn’t help but feel like Hannah was purposely trying to rub in how comfortably she could touch Jase in front of her. Or was that just her jealousy and insecurity talking?

  “Yeah, I guess you could say we broke up.”

  Hannah’s eyes went wide. “Real break up, or Ross and Rachel break?”

  Becca glared at her. “We broke up. Now, did you come to help with the tree? Or are you both going to sit there and watch me do it?”

  “Well, that’s a tempting offer, but yes, I came to help.” Hannah got up from the arm of the chair, which was quickly followed by Jase standing up.

  “If you ladies don’t mind, I think I’ll leave you to do it together. I’ve still got some work to do outside.”

  “If you have to. I’ve just barely seen you lately, either,” Hannah said.

  “Sorry, Han. Just busy. So are you.” He headed for the hallway. “I’ll definitely see y’all tomorrow night if not before.”

  “Make sure you bring your mama,” Hannah said.

  “I will.” He smiled at her. “Thanks for always inviting her. Even if she doesn’t always come.”

  “She’s always welcome. You know that,” Hannah said.

  And Becca had to hand it to her, when it came to Jase’s depressed and mentally unstable mother, Hannah had been a true friend to him. First it had been their mother who had been the good neighbor, always willing to be there for him. But after she’d died five years ago, it had been Hannah who had gone over and helped him get his passed-out—occasionally partially dressed—mother up, cleaned, and into her bed. Even while Jase had been deployed—which had been most of the time—Hannah had frequently checked in on her when she was up visiting their father.

  Becca had never been there for him in that way. Jase and her sister shared a bond that had nothing to do with Becca, and she couldn’t blame Jase for his connection to Hannah. Her sister, for all her faults, was a remarkable person. She could just be . . . a little selfish. Her ego could get a little inflated.

  And Hannah’s biggest flaw, according to Becca, was that she’d always had the undivided love and attention of Jase Beckford.

  Until now, maybe.

  Becca watched him leave, and when he turned and looked over his shoulder and gave her a little wink, her heart skipped in her chest.

  * * *

  There was nothing like waking up in your childhood bed. There was always that one moment, right before you were fully alert, when you went back in time. In that moment, adult responsibility didn’t exist. There were no bills, no worries, and no muffin tops. Just the familiar smell of your mother’s favorite fabric softener on your sheets, the warmth of the bed, and the smell of coffee that you hadn’t made.

  This morning was extra sweet because it was Christmas Eve and Becca felt a lightness that she hadn’t felt in . . . well, weeks. Maybe months. Surprising after the past few days. She got up out of bed, pulled her favorite oversized cardigan over her cami top, and went down to the kitchen.

  “Morning, Daddy,” she said, placing a kiss on his head as he read the news on his tablet at the ta
ble. He’d always been a newspaper reader until Becca had bought him an iPad for Christmas two years ago. He was now an official convert, except books. He still liked the feel of turning a page, but Becca figured it was more that he repeatedly read the same shelves of books that he already owned.

  “Becca girl, you’re up early,” he said as she walked over to the coffeepot. “Hannah’s still asleep. No surprise.”

  Becca smiled. “I’ll be yanking her out of bed soon enough. Lots to do today. I want to get everything cleaned, and we need to get the dough rising for tonight.” It had been the Walters family tradition since she was born to spend Christmas Eve making cinnamon rolls for the next morning. Enough for the rest of their winter break. Everyone got involved, sprinkling cinnamon, rolling the dough, frosting. It was one of Becca and Hannah’s favorite things to do, even though it had been hard to continue after their mother passed. She’d really missed it last year when she’d been with Brian’s family. They hadn’t even had a Christmas Eve tradition. Instead his parents had taken them all out to Red Lobster. Which had been fine, but not the most festive or traditional way to spend the night before Christmas.

  Karen Walters, Becca’s mother, had been the epitome of Christmas cheer. She’d played her favorite CDs all through the month of December, decorated to the nines, and mailed a card to everyone she’d ever met. The cinnamon roll tradition was also a favorite of hers, and she’d always made it special by presenting the girls with Christmas Eve pajamas along with something to help them bake. One year it was a new apron, another it was their own high-end rolling pin. The final year before she’d died, she’d given each of them a KitchenAid mixer of her own. Becca used hers when she had the urge to bake, and thought of her mother every single time.

  Today she would use her mother’s, which was still housed at the end of the counter, exactly where it had sat for the past twenty years since her father had bought it for his wife. Becca still remembered the Christmas morning she’d unwrapped it. They’d all watched in anticipation and then smiled as she’d cried happy tears because she’d been wanting one for years and he’d bought her the most expensive one he could find.

  “All that work sounds good, Becca. But . . . I wanted to let you know . . . I’m going to spend this evening with Evelyn.”

  Becca stopped her mug halfway to her mouth. “Dad. What do you mean? You can’t miss Christmas Eve with us.”

  “I know this sounds abrupt, Becca, and I have mixed feelings also. But this is the evening that she spends with her grandchildren, and, well, she wants me there. And as much as I want to be here, I want to be there also.”

  “But we’re your family.”

  “I know you are. But we’ll be together in the morning when I get back.”

  Her eyes bugged. “When you get back! You’re staying the night?”

  Now her father frowned at her. “It wouldn’t be the first time, Becca.”

  Becca blew out a breath and turned to face the counter. Tears burned in her eyes as she heard her father’s chair scrape along the wooden floor. The tears pooled over the edge of her lids as he put an arm around her shoulder.

  “Sweet girl, don’t cry. I know this isn’t ideal, but relationships take compromise, and this is mine. She wanted me to stay for Christmas morning but I told her no.”

  “Does she not understand you have a family?”

  “Of course she does, and she wasn’t upset. She asked, I explained, and she understood. This is new for us both, Becca. Besides, I’d rather be here to eat the cinnamon rolls than to do all the work.”

  Becca choked out a teary laugh.

  “Please don’t be upset with me.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not upset with you, Dad. I’m just sad. Everything is changing this year. I thought I’d be changing with it, but I’m the one getting left behind.”

  Her father pulled her into his chest and she set her coffee down so she could hug him.

  “That’s not true, Becca. Yes, things are changing. You girls are older, you come around less, and I’m dating someone. But we’re still a family. That will never change. Neither will my love for your mother, although I hope you already knew that.”

  “I do, Dad.”

  “Good. Now will you girls be okay out here alone tonight?”

  Becca nodded. “Yes. Of course.” She wiped her tears.

  “I plan to be back here about eight thirty or nine. Is that early enough?”

  “Sure. I’ll just plan to have the rolls ready about nine or after.”

  “Sounds good. Are Jase and Brenda coming also?”

  “Yeah. They’ll be here.”

  Her father nodded. “Okay, good. Jase’s cell number is on that pad on the fridge if you need him while I’m gone.”

  “Dad, we’ll be fine. It’s not like I’ve never been here alone before.”

  “I know. But I enjoy worrying about you.” He smiled. “That’s another thing that will never change.”

  NINE

  By nine o’clock that night they’d made eight dozen cinnamon rolls. A large pan went in the fridge to bake the next morning, some were ready in foil pans for Jase’s mother to take home, Hannah had a couple of pans for her freezer, and so did Becca. The last pan they always took to the Swartz family, who had lived a mile down the road since before Becca was born. It was tradition, and she’d just texted Lily Swartz to let her know they’d be down soon.

  “I guess it wasn’t the end of the world not having Dad here,” Hannah said.

  “No. It wasn’t. He usually ended up in the living room watching television anyway,” Becca replied. Which was surprisingly what Jase and Jonas were doing now. She could only imagine what they had to talk about.

  Hannah pushed a sticky note down on Brenda’s pan and then turned to the woman sipping hot cocoa at the table. “I’ve put the baking instructions on top, Brenda.”

  “Thanks, girls. I appreciate you having us over,” Brenda said with a smile. She looked so much older than she truly was, her hair thin and her face lined with wrinkles from way too hard a life for one person. It was just too bad that she hadn’t been able to spend some of her younger adult years happy, instead of living in fear of an abusive husband. Even though he was gone, the damage had taken its toll on her in many ways.

  “You’re always welcome here,” Hannah said, smiling, and Becca voiced her agreement. Hannah was always better about making people feel comfortable. It just came naturally to her, whereas emotions and a lot of personal interactions were Becca’s weaknesses. Not that she didn’t want or crave relationships; she just always expected herself to do or say the wrong thing.

  Hannah didn’t worry or overthink. She acted. Sure, that could be dangerous, but Becca admired that sort of fearlessness. Becca normally did well with people she was comfortable with, which reminded her.

  “I’m going to take this pan down to the Swartz house,” Becca said.

  “Let me drive you,” a voice said behind her.

  Becca turned around to see Jase standing in the doorway. He looked so good tonight in his jeans, boots, and flannel. His hair was a little mussed and curled up in front, like he’d been pulling at it. She glanced at Hannah to find her watching them.

  “Okay. Sure,” Becca answered.

  He nodded. “Ma, you ready?”

  “I am. Drop me off first.”

  “Planned on it.”

  Becca was a little in shock that he was making it so obvious that he intended for them to be alone together. There really was no good reason for him to drive her down the road, other than to be a gentleman—and while that was somewhat believable, Becca knew Hannah was wondering what was up. She could almost feel her sister’s curiosity.

  “Thanks again for the gift card, girls,” Brenda said with a small smile as she put on her coat.

  “You’re welcome. Make sure you buy something nice for yourself,” Hannah said.

  Becca put on her own coat, slipped on her boots, and then grabbed the pan of rolls and followed them
out to Jase’s truck.

  When Jase opened the passenger door for his mother, Brenda hesitated then turned to Becca. “Why don’t you climb in there first? He doesn’t want me snuggled up next to him.”

  “Oh—that’s okay—” she started, but Jase cut her off.

  “Get in, Becca. She’s getting out first anyway.”

  “Okay. Sure.” She glanced up at him as she pulled herself into the truck and scooted over into the odd little seat he’d created by lifting the console. Brenda followed her in, and within moments they were heading down the road to the house Jase grew up in.

  As soon as he pulled into the driveway he jumped out to help his mother out.

  “Thanks again, Becca. You have a nice Christmas.”

  “You too. Thanks for coming tonight.” And then the older woman was gone. Becca quickly scooted over into the vacated seat, put on her seat belt, and watched the two of them walk to the front door. Jase waited for his mom to get in and headed back to the truck.

  The minute he opened his door, lighting her up with the interior lamp, he frowned. “Now, that’s a disappointment.”

  She blushed and shook her head. It was still a little hard to believe that he was showing interest in her. All evening she’d caught him watching her. Whenever he’d passed, his hand touched her back, her shoulder, or her arm. She knew it wasn’t an accident. He had spent the entire evening finding innocent ways to touch her, smile at her, make eye contact. It had been unsettling but also amazing and unreal. Like it was happening to someone else.

  “Sorry. That seat’s not the most comfortable.”

  “I could have made it worth it,” he said, shooting her a grin.

  She just laughed and stared out the window as he backed up and headed in the opposite direction. They passed her home once again and she wondered what Jonas and Hannah were up to now that they were alone. Hopefully Hannah had started cleaning up the kitchen.

  They made it down the road to the Swartz home and were excitedly greeted by their six grandchildren who were visiting from Nebraska. Lily—who had been a friend of her mother’s—instantly pulled Becca into the kitchen to catch up with a cup of tea, while Ben—her husband and friend of her father’s—naturally drew Jase into their den with his sons. The Swartz kids had been older than they were, but they’d known them just due to being neighbors, and now they had their own children, whom Becca loved watching set out cookies for Santa by the fireplace.