DAMIEN'S POV
On Christmas Eve we drove to Tacoma in the late afternoon and the highway gave way to the smaller roads and Elara had a playlist that was neither Christmas music nor Christmas music, somewhere in between, the kind of thing that worked for December driving without demanding anything from the listener.
She had her feet on the dashboard.
November had been too cold for it. December apparently wasn't.
I didn't say anything. Just drove and let her have the dashboard and the playlist and the fading December light through the passenger window.
At some point she turned her head and looked at me.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing. Thinking."
"About what?"
"Last Christmas Eve." She turned back to the window. "We drove this same road. You'd just come back from New York and the Vermont con
