Heartbroken (A Christmas Story) 9

Three days to Christmas.

I woke up in my own bed, sheets tangled around my legs, the faint scent of Jack still clinging to my skin from yesterday.

My head was spinning, not from the wine we’d cracked open after the couch, but from everything else.

The way he’d looked at me when he left at 2 p.m., coat half buttoned, hair messed up, promising to text me later.

The way my body still ached in the best places. The way I felt… lighter, somehow, despite everything that had happened with Mike.

I was smiling into my pillow when the noise started.

Laughter. Loud, overlapping voices. Footsteps thumping down the hallway. A kid’s shriek followed by the unmistakable sound of someone tackling someone else onto the carpet.

I sat up, confused. Our house was small, Mom, Dad, my little brother, and me. Four people. That was it. We didn’t have surprise guests. Not on a random Tuesday morning three days before Christmas.

The noise grew louder, more laught