CHAPTER EIGHT
On Sunday afternoon, Michael inhaled the scents of sap and pine. It reminded him of when he hiked with friends a month ago, but he wasn’t in a forest today. He stood in a corner lot with Sheridan, who beamed brighter than a gold star tree topper, reaffirming his suggestion to celebrate the holiday together was the right one.
So what if he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone shopping for a tree? It was probably when he was in high school; his parents took care of that, but not much had changed since then.
Christmas carols played. Two women wearing candy cane–striped aprons, Santa hats, and snowman name tags, stood behind a table covered in tree needles underneath a white pop-up tent, decorated with garland and lights. The table held bottles of tree food, packages of m
