Ledger doesn’t admit to his crimes though. He just scoops me into his arms, carrying me bridal style. But it’s not very romantic when he says, “Fuck, you smell like a brewery. I hope you don’t have plans for tomorrow morning.”
“I would have plans. I would have plans if I had my booze,” I tell him as he deposits me down. I try to scooch over to the driver’s seat, but he anchors me with a firm hand on my hip.
“Stay still.” Before I can argue with him, he has me all strapped into the seatbelt. Buckles are very mean when you’re this tired and dizzy. I can’t even get it undone.
He slides behind the driver’s seat, taking all the fun. “We’ll be at your apartment in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“You don’t have lambs on your farm.” I can’t help pointing this out. He grows trees. Doesn’t he know what he does? He must be a terrible cowboy. Maybe that’s why he’s lonely. He wouldn’t be lonely if he’d come to my bed. I could warm him up.
Ledger doesn’t say anything. He just starts humming along to Christmas carols. He’s a good hummer but a terrible singer. Good thing he likes to hum instead. By the time he’s finished humming, we’re at my apartment. Like a magic carpet ride.
“Whoa,” I murmur when he helps me down onto the ground. The ground is different outside my apartment. It’s all tilted and stuff. It wasn’t that way this morning.
Ledger picks me up again, like I’m his doll. I’d like to be his doll. I don’t think he wants one though. He doesn’t want me. I’m going to live alone with only ginger dicks. No real dicks.
“Why are you crying?” He sounds alarmed, like that time I called him when I hit a deer. The deer was fine. He tracked it down and got it vet care. But I still cried about it for a long time, and he held me then.
“I don’t have a dick!” I explain through the tears and the snot.
He deposits me on my bed, and I land on my butt. He’s smirking at me. Stupid cowboy with the stupid adorable face. “We’ll talk about this in the morning. I’ll get you some water.”
I kick off my shoes and stretch out. Then I reach for Honey, petting her. She’s the black and tan Chihuahua that Ledger gave me. She’s all fierce and girly and the cutest little doggy ever. “Honey knows my struggles.”
Ledger is back again. He hands me a glass and pills. “Swallow.”
“You don’t get to boss me around, Ledger Kringle.” I stick out my tongue at him.
“I do when you drink too much like you’re a damn teenager.” He nudges the pills toward me again and this time I do swallow them. But not because he’s the boss. “What is going on with you lately?”
I remember the video of Abby and Micah. He found Chloe and now the three of them are a family. And I’m still all alone. “There’s no baby.”
His face goes really pale. “Did you think you were pregnant?”
Honey snores quietly on the pillow next to me. She’s the closest thing I’m ever going to get to being a mom. Because he’s not getting it.
“No pregnancy.” I sigh. Maybe I’ll dress Honey in sweaters and cute little clothes. That’s something a mom would do. “A girl needs a cowboy because a cowboy can give a girl babies. Ledger, keep up.”
He sits next to me, the bed sagging. “So, you want a baby?”
Ledger is finally hearing me. He’s understanding and everything. “Then it would be the perfect Christmas!”
He’s doing that thing where he frowns, and his eyebrows get all crinkly. “Where are you going to get a baby?”
“I need a cowboy,” I explain and flop back onto my pillows in frustration. Why can’t he be the cowboy? Why does he not know to be the cowboy?
“Will any cowboy do?” Ledger’s voice sounds funny, but I don’t peek open an eye. The ceiling is spinning and that’s not a very fun thing.
I turn over on my side and reach for the blankets, the call of sleep too strong for me to resist. “Little Ledger for Christmas. He could be red and wrinkly and cry all the time and I’d still love him.”
3
LEDGER
I can’t breathe.I’ve been sitting here on the edge of Peyton’s bed for the past hour. All I can do is stare at her sleeping form and pray that she meant what she said. She was drunk. I keep trying to tell myself that. Keep hardening my heart against the coming pain.
Tomorrow, she’ll wake up and feel differently. Tomorrow, she won’t even remember this conversation. But it’s too late for me. Those images are now stuck inside my head. A little baby that’s a mix of her features and mine. A toddler for us to chase after together.
Fuck, there’s a reason I never let myself think about my future. It’s too painful to contemplate growing old alone while secretly hoping that one day Peyton will want me back.