Heartbroken (A Christmas Story) 8

Four days to Christmas.

The house was quiet, the way it always got this time of year when everyone else was out shopping or wrapping gifts.

Mom had left an hour ago to meet friends for drinks, my little brother was at a sleepover, and I had the couch all to myself.

The tree lights blinked softly in the corner, casting red and green spots across the living room walls.

Home Alone was playing on the TV, my annual ritual, the one thing I never skipped, no matter how bad the year had been.

Kevin was just about to set the traps when my phone buzzed on the coffee table. I glanced at the screen.

Jack.

My heart did a stupid little flip. I’d saved his number as “Jack” after the balcony, but I still thought of him as Mr. Harlan half the time.

The man who’d driven me home that night, kissed me softly on the forehead at my door, and hadn’t said a word since.

I let it ring twice before I answered, voice quiet.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Mara.” H