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“Love him. Love Logan like he needs to be loved. He’ll quit running once you stop pushing him away. Promise me.”

Ororo had a promise to keep.

Three weeks had passed since the paramedics took Stryker and Yuriko’s bodies off to the morgue. Jason Stryker was remanded into a surprisingly lavish care home with the stern injunction from Hank that he be allowed the largest private room in the wing, with a view of the grounds. He reconfigured and rebuilt his mnemonic scrambler, basing it loosely on the circuitry and design of Styker’s tracking device. Jason was sedated when they planted it into his neck. His face was blissfully unaware of everyone when he was eventually escorted to the new facility. Out of a strange sense of sympathy, Kitty searched the Internet for photos of Yuriko Oyama and printed them on glossy stock, framing them and sending them to the nurse’s station anonymously. Once the photos graced his room, he managed the first smile they’d seen on him since his arrival. He also responded when they brought daisies to fill the tiny vase on his nightstand.

Jean’s body was cremated discreetly after the children were sent home early for their winter break. Scott took her engagement ring and had it locked up in the safe in Charles’ office. Photos of her still graced the walls of their suite, including a more recent drawing that Peter had sketched shortly after her return. It held the place of honor over the bed. Scott had it framed and kept it out of the sunlight so it wouldn’t fade with age.

With the first snow, Ororo finished putting her favorite plants down for a well-deserved rest, protecting tender tomato plants and her herbs with plastic tarp in the greenhouse. She planted new saplings just off the memorial garden, sending the Goddess a prayer that they would flourish and stand sentry over the remains of those they’d loved and lost.

Logan had been making himself scarce. Sometimes she felt his eyes on her when she was working in her office or teaching a class, but whenever she turned to face his gaze, he was gone.

Hank proved to be the biggest blessing, offering comfort and the occasional snifter of cognac after hours in the kitchen. He was always good for a hug, a rant, or to offer her a swift kick in the rear when she grew too melancholy.

“She said not to blame yourself.”

“I know.”

“So don’t.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Don’t make me get Logan in here.”

“Feel free to try. If you can find him.”

“He mentioned something about taking a spin to the movie store. Wanted to rent ‘something else than the pansy-assed chick flicks’ that the kids have been bringing home lately.”

“You’re good at doing the voice,” she remarked.

“It’s my mission in life.”

“He should have bullied Scott to go with him.” He’d been holing up in his room again, and it worried her.

“He did. They left an hour ago.” He chuckled at her look of indignant surprise.

“I’m always the last to know.”

“You didn’t ask,” he mock-whined, pouring her another finger of cognac.

Some of the older students stayed behind, having nowhere else to go. Sam remained behind with Dani, even though she insisted that his mother would miss him terribly.

“Jay brought home his girlfriend for the holiday. Gets a mite crowded. Next time, maybe ya’d like t’come home with me? Hills sure are pretty at sun-up.”

“I bet,” she murmured, smiling at him as they trimmed the tree in the den. Out of a strange sense of manic holiday spirit, Logan and Scott had strung up acres of Christmas lights around the mansion, putting Clark Griswold’s house in “Christmas Vacation” to shame. Logan had even insisted on a tacky flock of light-up gnomes, reindeer, and an inflatable Abominable Snowman out on the front lawn. Ororo had laughed so hard it hurt when she surveyed their handiwork.

The children were still shaken, but they were recovering. They were still waiting for the nightmares to come back. Dani felt paranoid and unsettled about her powers flying out of control again. She also dreaded the psychic trauma left over from Jason’s attack while she and Sam were holed up in the infirmary. Hank found them and brought them out of it, but she screamed herself hoarse once she woke up. Sam just lay there beside her, tears filling his eyes as he reached for her hand. Lately they were inseparable.

The whole student body had felt the strike against their consciousness when Jason brought his nightmares into the Danger Room with them. Peter at first thought someone was manipulating the Danger Room routines from the outside. Everyone’s respective powers were in flux. Jimmy was locked inside with them, and everyone in closest proximity to him was drained, their abilities nullified and useless as they suffered from their worst fears made real. The Stepford triplets had saved the day, blocking the psychic signals they picked up more effectively after Sage jumpstarted them, amplifying their powers when they linked hands. Peter hated the sense of helplessness he’d felt, but the students reminded him that there wasn’t much that he could do, anyway. The real danger had been outside.

Bobby, Marie, Jubilee, Dani, Sam, Warren and Sage finished trimming the tree. Sam held the ladder and Dani steady as she thrust the fiberoptic angel on top, straightening it before she barked “Turn it on, Jubes!” Jubilee flicked the switch, and everyone ooh’ed and aaah’ed their approval as the strands of multicolored lights slowly shifted on the staggered time setting instead of the annoying blink that no one wanted. The crackle of the fire in the hearth threw a cheerful glow over the room.

“Beautiful,” Ororo sighed. She set down the tray of non-alcoholic egg nog and festive glass goblets and headed back to the kitchen for the sugar cookies. She heard whoops of delight over the offerings behind her that made her smile. She sighed in the empty kitchen, hating how bereft she felt. She wanted Logan here to share the holiday with, but he was determined to evade her, and the talk they’d been sidestepping, at all costs.

She missed his grudging laughter. That funny little cock of his eyebrow. That gleam he got in his eye when he was about to get the drop on her, verbally or physically. And those lips. Goddess, those lips…There she went again. Aroused, flustered, and alone. Great.

Logan and Scott finally arrived a half an hour later, windblown, chapped, rosy-cheeked and busting a gut from their ride back. Once Hank had disabled the tracking devices on the bike from Oyama Heavy Industries, it had joined the stable of cherished motorcycles out in the garage and it became Scott’s new baby. He’d decided to stay, which Ororo never expected, but she breathed a sigh of relief when he’d visited her office to let her know:

“So you’re not leaving us?” she breathed in relief.

“I’m a mutant. I’m a teacher. ‘Nuff said,” he quipped after watching her fold her arms over her chest. “I told the Professor once that if anything happened, I’d take care of everyone to the best extent that I could. That hasn’t changed.”

“You’re sure?”

“Damn skippy. I belong here. Nowhere else feels like home. All of my best memories are in this house.”

“So are some of the worst.”

“Didn’t drive you away,” he reminded her.

“Goddess, I know. Don’t think I didn’t come close on more than one occasion. We’re glad to have you, Scott. Very grateful. I love you. I’m glad you’ve decided to stay, brother.”

“Love you too, ‘Ro. Even if I left, something would inevitably pull me back. Might be what keeps Logan coming back here. Or, it might just be you?” Ororo choked on a gulp of coffee and scalded her tongue. Scott snickered at her spit-take and handed her a tissue to wipe her chin.

“What are you trying to say, Summers?” She held her hand against her lower lip, sucking cool air into her mouth to soothe her tongue, which now felt like sandpaper.

“You know good and well what I’m saying. Logan’s head-over-heels in love with you. You love him, too. Both of you need to stop tap-dancing around the elephant in the room and just go for it.”

“We already tried that.”

“And?”

“I seem to have developed a case of cooties. He won’t come near me.”

“Cooties?”

“For lack of a better word. He’s been steering clear.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You’re all he ever talks about. ‘Ororo took this great spill during our workout today, ya shoulda seen the look on her face, Summers!’ Or, ‘Ororo makes one mean omelet.’ Or ‘Didja see what she had on today when she went out with Kitty?’ It’s sickening.” He grinned at her when she stuck her tongue out at him. Inside she felt warm and fuzzy. He’d been talking about her.

“Pot calling the kettle, Scott. Jean used to carry on that way about you. My ear was the one she would bend the most often.”

“She did, huh?”

“Yup. She told me stories that would curl my hair.” She felt better when her words didn’t bring that hurt looking slump of his shoulders. He sighed, then smiled.

“Smells like blackmail.”

“Nope. That’s just the cookies. Get one on your way downstairs. Marie made them.”

“Talk to him, Ororo.”

“I’m not chasing him around the house until I pin him down,” she insisted.

“Quit being so proud. Men like groveling. Logan would love some.” She pondered his words carefully.

“I wouldn’t mind a little myself.”

“So damned stubborn. It’s all anyone watching you two can do to not knock your heads together.”

“We can butt heads just fine by ourselves, thank you very much.”

“Ororo?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry about what happened in Cerebro.” She heard the resignation and a hint of grief in his voice. “I shouldn’t have drawn you into…”

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize. Back at Alkali, Scott, I wanted so much to save her. Having to pilot that plane was the only thing that kept me in that cockpit. Watching her go down nearly killed me. The moment Logan and I found her back at the lake after we lost you, Scott, I was so bloody hopeful. I had my sister back! All that was left was to find you, and I’d have my family, right back here where you belonged.” Scott approached the desk and sat on the edge, leaning toward her as she continued. “You weren’t supposed to be dead. It was as if someone had opened up a window in a dark room to let in some light, only to slam it shut again. I knew what we had to do, back in Cerebro,” she admitted. “That didn’t mean I wanted to do it.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I knew I had to make a choice. That wasn’t Jean, at least not the one we knew.”

“She wanted to be,” Ororo murmured.

“Yeah.” He stared down at his hands in his lap. “I would have died all over again if she could have been, in a second. There was one thought on my mind when she looked at me, and when I realized that she wouldn’t back down from trying to kill us all. The kids. You, Logan and Hank.” She waited with baited breath.

“Tell me.”

“I couldn’t let Logan shoulder it all over again. Having to deal the blow. He’s seen too much, lived through too much. He loved Jean.”

“Scott…”

“He was in love with her. I said it out loud. Drove me crazy the way he used to chase her, but there you have it. I know it broke him when he had to take her down at Alcatraz. No one deserves to carry that kind of burden twice.”

“Only blood should take blood,” Ororo agreed, repeating her thoughts from that day.

“I couldn’t save her before. That’s why I wanted to finish it.” He turned to her, ruby quartz goggles gleaming as they caught the lamplight. “Don’t keep Logan in suspense. Talk to him. He deserves having you be straight with him.”

“You won’t let this go until I give in, will you?”

“Nope.

“Good night, Scott.” She waved her hand in a shooing dismissal.

“G’night, Ororo.” He held up his hands in defeat before taking his leave.

That brought her here to the kitchen, alone with her thoughts again. She heard Logan’s resonant baritone in the den, doling out compliments to the kids for the gorgeous job they did on the tree. Then the speakers on the TV were turned up as they popped in the DVD. It sounded like an action movie. She steeled herself before she made her way back with the cookies.

“YAY! COOKIES!” Jubilee grinned, relieving Ororo’s platter of one and taking a hearty bite. She grabbed two more and plopped herself down, handing Warren one before she snuggled up against him. He grinned and nuzzled her ear, reminding Ororo of a mother bird and its chick. She felt a similar pang when she noticed Dani and Sam taking up their customary places on the floor, elbowing each other and stealing the occasional kiss as they watched the previews. Bobby and Marie settled for holding hands on the couch, since Jimmy had gone home to visit relatives for the holiday. Bobby had looked longingly at the mistletoe, and Marie smiled at him, saying “It’s the thought that counts, shoog.”

“Come and watch the movie with us, Miss Munroe,” Marie beckoned, patting the narrow remainder of space on the sofa.

“No, no. Go ahead, enjoy yourselves. Who wants popcorn?” she offered. She was answered by a hail of “Me! Me!” on her way out. She brushed past Logan without meeting his eyes. She felt his stare at her back, and felt that little frisson of heat run up her arms. It was getting harder to not speak to him. She just couldn’t find the right thing to say. She made two bags of popcorn and loaded them into festive green plastic bowl with holly sprigs painted on it and deposited it on the settee. A chorus of goodnights followed her out of the den. Logan was nowhere to be found.

Ororo went back to her study and called Kurt long-distance in Germany, racking up an expensive phone bill for the month with one chat, but she was grateful to hear his voice. She heard nothing but sympathy in his voice when she related how Stryker had died. He told her that he was relieved that she no longer felt such hate and fear of him anymore. His words warmed her, but when she hung up, she felt empty again.

Ororo walked outside and strolled into the memorial garden. She adjusted the Christmas wreath that she had hung on the pillar beside the cenotaphs, tweaking its red velvet ribbon into place. She knelt by Charles’ headstone and spoke.

“I’m confused, Charles. I think I’ve fallen in love. It’s Logan.” She imagined she heard his startled chuckle. “Yes, I know! Logan, of all people! Who’d have thought it?” She paused to wipe away a soft layer of snow that settled over the headstone. “He’s amazing, Charles. He’s everything I never knew I wanted, but can’t dream of living without. How’s that for a complete turnaround? I couldn’t stand him when we first met. That feeling seemed mutual. Look at us now!” She pictured the Professor’s soft, intelligent blue eyes watching her thoughtfully, wishing she were sitting beside him now with cups of tea and a plate of scones.

“I don’t know how he feels about me, Charles. Scott says he cares about me. I don’t think he’s really cared about anyone that way since Jean left us.” Dimly she remembered him telling Yuriko “Stay away from my girl!” It was in the heat of the moment. That didn’t count…did it?

Was she his girl?

“Come on Charles, quit being so quiet! Tell me what to do!”

A tiny voice inside her insisted You already know what to do. Just do it.

“I love him. Goddess, I love him. So what in heaven’s name do I do now?” She kissed the tips of her fingers and brushed them against the polished marble, dusting herself off as she got up.

She went inside her room to try to read her favorite Lolita Files novel, but couldn’t focus after the third chapter. She turned on her CDs while she cleaned her room from top to bottom, but that didn’t help. She was standing in the middle of her now spotless room with her mind buzzing miles per minute. Even the knick knacks gleamed. Her eyes landed on a pack of Christmas cards.

Perfect. Tedious, necessary, and time-consuming. She grabbed the box, her address book, and her best Razor pen and started downstairs.

She peeked around the corner. Sam was helping a drowsy Dani to her feet. Jubilee and Warren had already retired for the night after getting in one more peck under the mistletoe. Marie and Bobby were cleaning up the cookies and mess from the popcorn and egg nog.

“The DVD is still in the player if ya wanted t’watch it, Miss Munroe,” Marie offered.

“I was going to make out some cards in front of the fire.”

“That sounds nice,” she agreed. “G’night, Miss Munroe!” A few more greetings later, and she was alone again. She laid down on the floor on a blanket that Sam had spread there earlier and propped herself on an overstuffed pillow. She stared up at the tree from his vantage point, watching the shadows thrown against the walls from the firelight. It was surreal and peaceful. The filaments of the Christmas angel topper slowly changed colors, from red to green to white, then back again. This was a moment that was supposed to be shared with someone special, she groused. She flipped herself over and lay on her side, determined to work on her cards.

She got through ten before she fell asleep, lulled by the flames in the fireplace and rotating colors of the lights. Her thoughts were still full of Logan and his kisses, and the feel of woodchips and loam beneath her back on that stolen afternoon in the greenhouse. It felt like a dream when someone reached out and gently stroked her cheek with the back of their knuckles.

“Ororo?”

“Mmmmmmm.”

“Ro?”

“Mmph. Sleepy. Go ‘way.”

“Ya can’t be comfortable like that,” the voice reasoned. It sounded deep and deliciously grumbly. Tender. Close. She shifted herself, trying to regain purchase on the floor. Her arm nudged the small pile of cards out of their neat stack, fanning them out across the blanket.

“Yer gonna make this difficult, arentcha?” Logan smiled at the picture she made. She was sprawled out like a cat, her arm tucked up under her cheek. Her long, dark lashes fluttered as she moaned in her sleep, and errant locks of hair fell over her forehead. He brushed them back gently, revealing her smooth skin and sleep-puffed lips. She was so beautiful and vulnerable, and his stomach warmed itself seeing her guard down like this. Her chest rose and fell, and he noticed that she was wearing a short-sleeved, blue silk pajama top with nothing on underneath. His fingers itched to caress her and roam her soft flesh. The problem was, he wanted her to be awake, and hopefully able to enjoy it. She smacked her lips as he moved her hand off of the cards and lifted them to safety, depositing them on the coffee table.

“Tired. Don’t wanna watch a movie,” she moaned.

“Don’t have to,” he agreed. “Ya need ta get up ta bed, darlin’.”

“Don’t want to. Lonely up there,” she complained.

“Never stopped ya before.” He made his tone as reasonable as he could, but his ears pricked with curiosity as he considered the meaning of her words. Lonely?

“Not the same,” she sighed.

“What’s not the same?” He leaned in closer, settling himself next to her and continuing to stroke her hair. It was silky and smelled freshly shampooed.

“Want…Logan. Want him next t’me,” she sighed.

“Ya do, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured. “Nice when he’s next to me. Feels good.”

“Ever tell him that?”

“Uh-uh. Can’t. Don’t want…to scare him off.” Her brows furrowed in a telling way that made him want to kiss the expression away.

“Maybe ya won’t.” He was frowning thoughtfully now. She’d said a lot, even if she didn’t mean to. He lay on his side and slowly, gently eased her up against him, wrapping an arm around her narrow waist. She arched against him, lightly clutching his arm and locking it in place. Her hair tickled his lips, and he moved them over her scalp, breathing in her scent. Her skin felt hot and irresistibly smooth beneath the sheath of satin. He flattened his palm against her flat belly and stroked it. She moaned again, this time in contentment. “Why are ya worried about scaring him?”

“He always leaves. Always leaves us behind. Always leaves ME behind.”

“Maybe the guy’s tired of walking out. Maybe he wants to stick around.”

“He’s not the sticking around type.” She wriggled in his arms. Her voice still sounded drowsy, but his body was reacting to having her so close. He felt himself harden against her sweet rump.

“He could be.” He let his free hand uncover her neck, sweeping aside her hair so he could nuzzle it with his lips. She tasted like all of his favorite things as he parted his lips and gently suckled her skin. She jerked for a moment against him before groaning her approval. “Maybe he wants t’be the good guy, fer a change. Baby, wake up. Please?”

“Mmmph…Logan. LOGAN???” She twisted herself around in his arms, and she flung her arm up haphazardly, bopping him upside the nose.

“OWW!”

“Ooooh, Logan…I’m SO sorry.”

“Didn’t tickle.”

“It didn’t. I know. I’m sorry,” she repeated, lightly stroking the hand he was using to prod his nose. She pulled it away and took a peek. It looked fine, but he was fixing her with a tiny scowl. “What’s wrong?”

“Why aren’t ya speakin’ t’me?”

“Why aren’t you speaking to ME?”

“Can’t corner ya long enough ta get a word in edgewise,” he admitted. “What’s yer excuse?”

“I…I don’t know what to say to you.”

“You were doin’ a pretty good job a minute ago.”

“Goddess…what did I say, Logan?” Her eyes brooked no hedging or omissions. His twinkled back at her.

“Something about liking it when I’m next t’ya. I liked that part. There was another little thing about bein’ lonely and not wanting ta be in yer own bed. Not alone, anyway. Sumthin’ like that. People say the funniest things when they’re baggin’ zees,” he mused. His arm tightened around her possessively as he shifted her against him more comfortably. She was already warm from the heat of the fire against her back, but Logan was like a furnace. His black cotton sweater’s texture felt decadent as she ran her hand down his chest, roaming over his taut muscles.

“You should have just woke me,” she accused.

“Ya woulda just run off,” he pointed out. “Or made an excuse why ya had ta be elsewhere. It’s gettin’ harder ta let ya run off.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I’ve gotten used ta bein’ with ya. Yer voice. Yer laugh. The way ya smell. That funny little look that yer giving me right now like ya think I’m off my rocker…yeah, that one. That’s the look.” He grinned at her before he leaned forward and kissed the lines between her brows. The touch of his lips made her shiver.

“Logan…”

“And the way ya say my name. Like it’s something sacred. Secret. For me alone. I love the way ya say it. C’mon. Humor me. Say it again.”

“Logan,” she repeated, quirking up the corner of her mouth. His lips landed on her forehead again.

“Again.”

“Logan.” Feather-soft kisses trailed down the slope of her pert nose. His breath steamed her skin. Her nipples pebbled against him beneath the silk.

“Again, darlin’.”

“Logan.” Her hand drifted up to stroke his jaw. He turned his face into her touch and nipped her fingers, drawing one into his mouth. He smelled the change in her body chemistry; she was aroused and hot. And definitely awake.

“Again, Ororo.”

“Logan…” Her eyes searched his face. “Please.” He nodded, then lifted her chin, settling his mouth on hers with so much tenderness that she almost melted into a puddle. He dragged her flush against him so that they touched from lips to toes and kissed her thoroughly, drinking her sighs and sweetness, murmuring against her as she caressed him. Her fingers raked through his unruly waves of hair. She tasted a faint hint of rum and nutmeg, telling her that he had spiked a cup of the egg nog that she left out for the children. ‘Tis the season, she decided. His hand flattened against the small of her back. His kisses turned hungry and urgent as he rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body.

“I don’t wanna be lonely anymore, either. I need you. Yer all I think about.”

“I can’t sleep at night. I don’t want to play this game. It hurts too much.”

“I never wanted ta hurt ya, darlin’.” He stroked her hair, whispering kisses over the crowns of her cheeks. “Ya gotta believe that. Open mouth, insert foot. No matter what I tried ta say, it was always the wrong thing at the wrong moment. That night back in Scooter’s room, Jeannie said something that I never got ta explain.”

“She said you could be the good guy,” she nodded, reading his mind.

“Yup. I told her that back at Alkali, back when the Blackbird was grounded. I bit the bullet and shoved that one out there, like I had a chance. Should’ve known better,” he admitted. “She didn’t buy it.”

“She was flattered that you tried. She told me about that kiss.” It was Logan’s turn to stare at her in disbelief.

“Why the hell did ya leave me hanging, then, making me worry about how much ya knew? I lost sleep, woman!”

“Good. At least I wasn’t alone in that.”

“Just alone in bed,” he pointed out.

“And hating it.”

“Hmmph.”

“And jealous. Don’t forget green with envy.”

“Yeah?” He shot her a lopsided grin.

“Burning with it. That was supposed to be my kiss.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m calling dibs.”

“Dibs, huh?”

“I could just lick you like you were the last piece of candy so no one else would want you,” she grinned back.

“Man, I used ta hate when anyone did that!” His chest shook with laughter, jarring her and making her tingle beneath him. “But that licking thing has possibilities.”

“Oh?”

“Hell, yeah!” He feinted, hovering over one corner of her mouth, then the other, before hitting his original target at the pulse in her neck. He nibbled it seductively for a few mind-melting seconds, making Ororo squirm and moan beneath him. Then his tongue swirled over her flesh, and she was lost. They lolled in front of the fireplace, rumpling the blanket and exploring each other’s taste.

“Logan,” she began once they came up for air.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I knew you could be the good guy. I never doubted it. I just wanted you to be that good guy for me.” She fixed those velvety brown eyes on him again. “We’re past ‘I think I’m in love with you.’ I know I’m in love with you.”

“Damn,” he muttered. “There ya go,” he rambled, shaking his head. “One-upping me again.”

“Come again?”

“Ya beat me to the punch. Always tryin’ ta outdo me, Munroe. What is it about you?” Her eyes scanned his face for any hint of foul play and found none. His voice grew serious. “I love you, too. Yer drivin’ me nuts, and that’s sayin’ something, I was already round the bend before! Ya just had ta push me that extra inch, didn’t ya?”

“You poor man,” she soothed, tugging him close to kiss those tempting lips, lingering there a while.

“Ya don’t sound sorry.”

“I’m too happy right now.” Her voice was full of feeling. “Can we go upstairs now?”

His hazel eyes darkened with need, and all he gave her was a brief flare of his nostrils before he sprang back, grasping her hands and pulling her up from the floor in one smooth sweep. He scooped her up and locked her legs around his waist, cupping her bottom as he swallowed her giggles before they could travel out of the den. On their way upstairs, they made use of every sprig of mistletoe with the rationale that the kids had gone out of their way to hang it up there…all two dozen boughs. It took a while to reach Ororo’s attic.

By the time they reached her stairs, there was already a trail of clothes behind them, and they were panting with need when they finally hit the mattress. The room resounded with a hail of “I love you’s” and chants of each other’s names, and cries that they fought to muffle in the center of night. They failed miserably, and Ororo finally threw an atmospheric air buffer around the doorway to lock out the sounds. Everything that they’d kept to themselves was shared. Every feeling, fully explored.

The man without a home and the woman who’d lost her family finally found what they were looking for, and heaven help any who tried to stand in their way. They feel asleep in each other’s arms, spent. They woke at dawn, bathed in the sunrise, and reassured each other that it wasn’t a dream.

“Love you, ‘Ro.”

“I love you, Logan.”

A few hours later, Scott rose first to start breakfast. He placed a package of frozen cinnamon rolls in the sink to thaw and mixed a pitcher of orange juice. Not wanting to make too much of a clatter in the kitchen, he retreated to the billiard room.

The morning sunlight turned the green felt of the pool table an immaculate emerald, beckoning to him to play. He racked up the balls and reached for the cue…

…then replaced it on the rack.

Scott removed his glasses and aimed for the cue ball, striking it with precision. It was a clean break, sinking four balls at once. He lowered the glasses as he contemplated his next shot.

Then he removed his glasses and stared hard at the table, deciding whether to sink stripes first or solids. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.

“Stripes, then,” he muttered aloud. Somewhere deep in his soul, he imagined Jean smiling in agreement.

Stripes it is, then.





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