25. Ellie
Chapter twenty-five
Ellie
“I’m telling you right now, Ellie,” Hunter gives me a mock-serious stare, “if you don’t eat an entire gingerbread house by yourself tonight, I will be very disappointed in you.”
This gets a laugh out of me, and Hunter looks pleased as a peach. “You better prepare for disappointment, mister.”
He catches my hand in his and squeezes. “Never with you, Ellie.”
Goodness gracious, he’s the best.
I know Hunter was joking when he suggested I eat an entire gingerbread house, but just looking at the “building supplies” sitting out on the Dawson’s huge dining table makes me feel a little queasy.
Sweetpea needs me to eat, though. So I turn toward the kitchen overflowing with appetizers, desserts more appealing than teeth-breaking candies, and stale gingerbread. My stomach turns quickly from queasiness to hunger. I’m about to make Hunter so proud.
“So what’s our plan to decimate these people?” Asher asks, stepping up to my side. They pulled our names out of a hat to team us up for the competition. Hunter’s paired with his mom. Lucky. She has great ideas, and more attention to detail than Asher has in his pinky finger.
I pick up a red polka-dotted “Merry Christmas” plate and begin scooping spinach dip. “Do the two of us actually need a plan?” Why not pretend to be cocky when you know you don’t stand a chance?
He chuckles, then leans closer to whisper. “I think we do.”
“Hmmm … what if we do one of the more recognizable buildings downtown? Like the general store?” I add two pigs-in-a-blanket to my plate. Oh! There’s strawberry-pretzel salad!
“No offense, new sister, but that’s super lame.”
“Rude.”
“We should do something more fun. More adventurous.” Asher picks up a cherry tomato and pops it into his mouth.
“So, you’re thinking a mountain with little rock climbers on it?”
“You think we could do that?”
“No. You and I are going to struggle to get something shaped like a rectangle built. I’m great at the decorating, but do you remember two years ago when mine and Rosie’s church ended up being an ice-skating rink because we couldn’t get the building to stand?
” I grab a bonbon and a shortbread cookie. And two more bonbons.
And four baby carrots because … nutrients.
“Yeah, and you claimed faulty icing, even though we all had the same.” He snags one of my bonbons off my plate as we head to our station at the dining room table.
I stop walking and look at him. “You would steal that from the baby? I’m surprised at you.”
“If my niece needs another bonbon, I’ll gladly go get it.”
My niece.
I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. “I’ll let you know.”
“You guys are going down,” Hunter says as we take our place across the table from him and his mom.
“Now be nice, Hunter,” his mom chides. “This is about having fun, not winning.” Rachel has never been a fan of all the trash talk that happens during this event.
“Then why is there a prize?” Asher asks his mom with a mischievous grin.
“I’m more concerned with not coming in last,” I say to Asher.
Each year, the winning pair gets their names engraved on a plaque that hangs in the Dawson’s house, so essentially the prize is bragging rights.
But the loser has a “punishment” so to speak.
That rule came to be twelve years ago when the boys stopped trying.
Gingerbread competitions were beneath the teenage Dawson boys.
This year’s last place “punishment” is performing a pairs ice-skating dance at the rink set up for the season at Ridgeview Park. It’s not even real ice. I’m not sure if that makes it better or not.
Mr. Dawson did say that if my team happened to lose, we could put off our performance until next Christmas.
Thank you, Sweetpea.
Sadie, Dawson-cousin Beckett’s fiancé, steps into her spot beside me. “Hey. Would you mind if I touch your belly?” she asks sheepishly. “I love to feel babies on the inside, but I know not everyone is okay with that.”
“Sure. Feel away. I think she’s asleep, though. Maybe you could try again when some of this sugar hits my system.”
Sadie grins and places a hand on my belly. “So exciting.”
We chat for a few minutes as I nudge Sweetpea, attempting to get her to move around for Sadie to feel, until Sadie is called back over by her gingerbread partner.
A moment later, I’m startled by arms coming around me from behind. Hunter is nuzzling into my neck. “I just wanted to come say hi,” he whispers. I’d not thought about us needing to do a little PDAing tonight, but clearly he has.
I reach up and slide my hand along his jaw. He lets out a slow exhale that surprises me. It wasn’t loud enough to be performative. It’s like he liked me touching him like that. I’ll have to try that out another time to see if he does it again.
“Hi, you. Did you miss me from all the way across the table?”
“Mmmhmm,” he answers into my neck. Then he presses a slow, tender kiss to my cheek. My face flames, and the desire to spin around and pull his lips to mine is almost overwhelming. Thankfully, I look up and find Rachel’s smiling eyes on us. Emotional response crisis averted.
“You came over here to spy on our ideas, didn’t you,” I say loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “Get back over to your side.”
He chuckles and kisses my cheek again before making his way to his side of the table, then Mr. Dawson calls the competition to officially begin.
Asher and I make a valiant effort to show the girls’ apartment from Friends decorated for Christmas.
We definitely do not win, but we also don’t lose.
That honor goes to Mr. Dawson and the music minister from church, Mr. Smith.
They decided to go big and replicate the Biltmore House.
They needed about twelve more hours to do what they needed to do to pull that off.
I look forward to their performance.
“So, DeeDee put Georgia and Wyatt together, right?” Hunter asks after he cranks his truck.
“A hundred percent. She’ll not rest until they’re married.”
“I’m glad they won. It was Georgia’s first time.”
“Was it really?” I asked. “I hadn’t realized that. They deserved it, for sure. I can’t believe they were able to make stained glass.”
“Yeah, really.”
We drive through the dark in silence for several minutes until we’ve nearly made it home. When Hunter speaks, it’s obvious he’s been thinking. “Do you think Dylan is going to want any sort of part in Sweetpea’s life?”
Fear slices through me at the thought of Dylan in our lives in any capacity.
“I don’t know.” I look out the window and sigh, not wanting to talk about Dylan.
Hunter’s hand reaches across the console, taking mine. “You okay, Ells?” His deep, calm voice breaks me out of my terrible memory.
“You know, I don’t think he ever loved me. I thought he did.” Hunter’s thumb rubs circles on my skin, grounding me. “He was good at acting like he did, for a while, but I think it was always about … control for him.”
My scalp pulses with a memory I’ve tried time and time again to bury.
My hair ripping at my roots as Dylan yanked my head back when I told him I was pregnant.
He flung me to the ground and proceeded to yell at me like I’d gotten pregnant all on my own.
If Cleo hadn’t been there … I shudder to think what could have happened.
I tell Hunter about the little abuses that Dylan piled on me—so small they were almost unnoticeable at first, until they were no longer small and no longer unnoticeable. Hunter sits in silence, unmoving, as I recount the moment that I realized I was married to an abuser.
Hunter gently squeezes my hand and murmurs sweet words of sadness over what I’ve been through—a stark reminder of how different he is from Dylan.
I wrap my hands around my belly, feeling Sweetpea squirming inside.
There’s a deep, unspoken part of me that wishes Sweetpea didn’t come from him … but I will never regret this child.
“I don’t think there’s any part of him that will want to see her just because she shares genes with him. If he ever were to show interest in being in her life, I can guarantee you, there would be some sort of ulterior motive behind it.”
“Him wanting to get to you and control you in another way?” Hunter surmises, his voice low and angry.
“Yeah. Something like that. I don’t know why he wouldn’t just leave me alone, though.
It’s clear he isn’t a part of my life anymore, and he won’t be ever again.
And if he thinks he will get to me through my child, he’s got another thing coming.
” I’m full mama bear at this point, and though it’s hard to believe, I know this fierce protectiveness will only increase when I hold my sweet angel in my arms. “I know that there’s some protection with the restraining order, but Dylan hasn’t seemed to respect that.
It’ll make things complicated to be involved in Sweetpea’s life, that’s for sure.
I did read that he could see her with a third-party present if he pushed for that.
I know he doesn’t want her, but he may push for it just so that he can have some control over me still. ”
Hunter parks in our driveway and turns toward me, taking both my hands in his. He feels so strong and sure. So opposite of Dylan.
“I don’t want you worrying about Dylan. Give that care to me.
You have enough going on, and I don’t want any more of your life ruined by him.
” The way he stares into my eyes—so intense, so serious.
I know he means exactly what he’s saying.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got Sweetpea. And I’ll deal with Dylan if I need to. ”
Something inside of me clenches at his words. I know that Hunter will do anything to protect me and Sweetpea—but at what cost? I close my eyes, fighting against tears.
At least I’m not alone in this. I’m not the only one protecting Sweetpea. Hunter’s watching over her. He’s watching over me. I just hope and pray that he’ll be safe—because even though Hunter’s a Marine, I know there’s a darkness in Dylan that makes him capable of anything.