Winter Wishes (The Play #1.5) by Karina Halle Page B

them. “Let’s go.”
    I’m glad that Brigs told us about the dog earlier because when we are just steps from the house, the front door flings open, bringing Jessica, warmth and the smell of spices.
    “Oh, Brigs!” she cries out and just as I thought he’s swept into the house in a wave of fawning parents. But it’s the perfect opportunity for me to slip upstairs without them noticing, even though I quickly take off my boots so I don’t track snow in the house.
    I head into the room where Brigs will be staying and look around. The layout of all the rooms are pretty much the same. I undo my coat and take out the pup, placing him on the bed.
    He looks up at me with wide, heart-breaking eyes and I could nearly kiss my brother for saving this little fluffball.
    First things are first though. I quickly head to the toilet across the hall and snatch up the newspapers from the magazine rack. Then I go about setting them all out on the other side of the bed furthest from the door, where you can’t see if someone were to poke their head in. I grab several stacks of books from the bookshelf and make a make-shift fence with them, corralling the newspapers to the wall.
    The puppy watches me from the bed the whole time. I pick him up and place him in, then go into my room to get a sweater that I don’t care if it gets destroyed. I fold it up, head back to Brigs’ room and place it in the corner of the pen, making a nice soft bed for the pup to sleep on.
    “You stay there,” I tell him gently, pointing at the pen. “I’ll be back with some water.”
    I quickly make my way down the stairs as silently as possible, which isn’t usually easy when you’re as tall and heavy as me. But everyone is now back in the drawing room, talking to Brigs and I work fast, getting a small bowl of water, plus grabbing a small piece of roast from inside the oven. I run those back upstairs, pleased to see that the puppy hasn’t knocked over the books. In fact, he’s curled up on the sweater, getting up when he sees me. I give him the water and meat, then leave on the bedside lamp before turning off the lights.
    When I come back downstairs, my face is flushed and I feel like I’ve been running a marathon. I take off my coat and scarf and finally saunter into the drawing room, taking my place beside Kayla on the couch.
    She looks at me with questioning eyes so I can only smile and nod, patting her on the leg. As long as the dog doesn’t start barking up a storm, we should be okay. I’m sure since it’s Brigs who found the dog, if George did find out, maybe the dog would be allowed to stay. But I also think George would think it’s my dog anyway with Brigs taking the fall, and we’d all be ousted.
    Brigs continues talking to George about his upcoming teaching position but when he briefly meets my eye and raises his brow in question, I give him a wink. So far, so good.
    The evening ends up being a rather pleasant one. Maybe everyone is feeling the power of the storm, the reverence of Christmas Eve, but George seems totally focused on Brigs, which is great. He only makes one thoughtless blunder when he brings up if Brigs will ever date again. That obviously didn’t go over well. Brigs clammed up and through those piercing eyes of his, I could tell he was being brought into his own dark place, so similar to mine.
    But Kayla, dear, sweet, fucking amazing Kayla, had a way of easing the tension. She got up and even though everyone was full and lazy from the delicious roast that Jessica prepared, she put on ‘Jingle Bell Rock” and invited Donald to dance with her. That was a smart move. Brigs was too lost and aching to do it and George would have turned her down. And there’s nothing funny about dancing with me. But Donald, my quiet, nerdy adopted father? Dancing with my feisty girlfriend? Yes. Now that’s funny.
    They ended up dancing for a few songs and then Jessica pulled me up and the four of us danced away Christmas Eve, feeling like