Dirty Christmas
"Zoe, honey, you look exhausted. Come sit by the fire."
"I'm okay, just the flight," I said, forcing a smile.
Dad was in the living room, wrestling with tangled Christmas lights. That's when I heard the knock at the door. Mom perked up. "Oh, that must be Caleb. He offered to help with the outdoor decorations since your brother is stuck in Denver."
Caleb Reynolds. I hadn't seen him since high school graduation, but memories flooded back: tall, quiet, with that easy smile and eyes like warm amber. He was my brother's best friend back then, always fixing things around the house with his toolbox and unflappable calm.