OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

twenty-nine.

             REAGAN DID NOT believe in Christmas miracles, but one fell unexpectedly into her lap that holiday season as she prepared to wrap up another work day at Wilson's. She stood behind her usual counter, sliding her arms into a jacket to combat the freezing temperatures outside. With the sun setting, it was only going to get colder.

What she did not know was that Tommy had appeared behind her, quietly debating the best plan of action on how to speak to her. He was wringing his hands together nervously, watching her dark red hair swing past her shoulders as she maneuvered herself into her jacket.

It had been weeks since they'd last spoke. At first, Reagan had been hurt by Tommy's cold shoulder, but she'd eventually gotten over it. She wasn't the type to play petty games, and although she might have been in the wrong, Tommy's refusal to even look her way felt borderline childish. She'd decided that it was easier to ignore him right back.

But Tommy had felt a compelling burst of need to talk to Reagan that day. He'd watched her all day long from the garage, noticing the things about her that she probably did not even know herself. Like the way her lips screwed up to one side, evidence that she was nibbling the inside of her cheek while in deep thought. Or how she always tugged at her braid, making it steadily messier as the day progressed. It was those things that kept Tommy from fully separating himself from her.

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat.

Reagan turned around, caught off guard by Tommy's greeting. She spun on her heels so fast that pieces of her hair became caught in her mouth. She'd unthreaded her braid after she had clocked out.

"Hey," she said back, bewildered that Tommy had suddenly decided to speak to her again. A part of her was regretful to say anything after the behavior Tommy had shown, but Reagan was more genial those days. The grudges she'd once been able to hold seemed far, far away.

"You've been working a lot," Tommy said lamely. It was a stupid thing to say. Reagan was always working a lot, yet Tommy said it as if it were some kind of big news.

"Yeah," she replied, untucking the hair that had gotten caught in the hood of her jacket. "Christmas is right around the corner. I'm saving up extra to buy gifts for the kids."

She knew that Tommy would understand what she meant. She always made it a priority to buy gifts for the twins and Robbie. They were young and Christmas was distinctly important to them. She always bought a gift for Kate too, but for the sake of being concise, she lumped her sister in with the little ones.

"Yeah . . ."

Tommy's voice trailed off, leading Reagan to guess that that was the end of their short-lived conversation. She was willing to talk to him longer, as long as it was not about Dave. That was an off limits subject that she refused to acknowledge in front of him.

"Have a good night," she said politely, reaching for her things. She walked around the counter and headed straight for the door, but Tommy called out to her.

"Reagan wait."

She hesitated. "Yes?"

Tommy looked nervous as he clutched the edge of the counter, swaying towards her like he wanted to be closer to where she stood. There was urgency in his eyes.

"Can . . . can we still be friends?"

The part of Reagan that had nearly convinced her into ignoring Tommy hissed in response. He didn't deserve to be her friend, not after how rude he had been to her upon finding out about Dave. She would have normally cursed at him, content to make him suffer for his actions. But like she had thought earlier; she'd been feeling more forgiving lately. And it was Christmas time, after all. People were supposed to be nicer when it was Christmas.