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 table. 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.”