Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jo
I woke to the weight of Nate’s arm draped over my waist and the murmur of voices drifting up from downstairs. For a moment, I just lay there, listening—Claire’s soft, efficient bustle, the low rumble of Nate’s father’s voice. No shouting. No tension. Just normal early-morning house sounds.
It felt . . . strange.
Strange and good.
Nate shifted behind me, warm and solid. “You’re thinking too loud,” he muttered into my hair.
“I do that,” I whispered.
His arm tightened, like he wasn’t ready to let me go. I could’ve stayed like that all day, but the world apparently hadn’t gotten the memo that I was busy falling in love with the quiet and the man beside me.
“I should go see if your aunt needs help,” I said.
“She’ll have reorganized the entire kitchen by now,” he mumbled. “But sure. Save her from the Tupperware.”
I laughed, kissed the inside of his wrist, and slipped out of bed.
Claire was, in fact, reorganizing the kitchen. She moved like a benevolent hurricane—two pans drying, coffee brewing, and a plate of something that smelled like cinnamon already cooling on the counter.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” she said, as if I’d been her niece my whole life. She kissed my cheek and pressed a mug of coffee into my hands before I could protest. “You look tired, but happy. That’s the right combination.”
“I—uh—yeah.” I wrapped my hands around the mug. “Morning.”
My gaze slid to the table.
Ethan sat there with his elbows braced on the wood, hands wrapped around his own mug. He looked human. A little pale, a little rough around the edges, but sober and very aware. His gaze met mine, and I braced for awkwardness.
Instead, he nodded. “Jo.”
“Morning. How’s your head?”
One side of his mouth twitched. “I’ve had worse.”
Claire snorted. “You’ve given worse.”
He shot her a look, but there wasn’t much heat behind it.
I sipped my coffee and let the moment be. A few weeks ago, Nate would’ve been tense and pacing, waiting for the next explosion. Now he padded in wearing flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt, hair a little wild, like this kitchen—these people—were exactly where he wanted to be.
He kissed Claire’s cheek, squeezed his father’s shoulder, then came straight to me, kissing me like it was the most natural sequence in the world.
Behind us, I could practically feel Claire smiling like she’d finally won a very long game.
“Good morning,” Nate murmured. He grinned and stole a sip from my mug. “Don’t mind me. What’s mine is yours and the reverse,” he said casually, handing it back.
Ethan choked on his coffee.
Claire patted his back. “They’re not married yet,” she said. “But get used to the idea.”
Before Ethan could respond, a familiar whistle that cut clean through the house.
“Uh-oh,” I murmured, already smiling.
Nate’s brows pulled together. “Is that—?”
The front door flew open.
“Keaton!” Martin bellowed. “Get your city ass outside. Thunder and Lightning are feeling underappreciated.”
“We’re not ready for the outdoors,” Nate proclaimed.
Martin answered easily, “I’ll wait.” and headed back outside.
I exchanged and amused look with Nate. “I don’t think we have a choice in this.”
Nate shrugged. “I’m confused. Does he want me to take the horses back or is he showing me how much he loves them?”
Claire inserted, “If you can’t tell, then let’s all go outside and go for a ride. I’m sure we can figure this out.”
A short time later, we stepped out into the cold morning air. The sky was a pale winter blue, the fields white and glittering. And there, hitched to the sleigh like some Christmas card fever dream were Thunder and Lightning again, tossing their heads and snorting twin plumes of steam.
Martin stood with one boot braced on the sled runner, grinning like a man who had invented joy. “You didn’t have time for a ride last night, so I figured I’d offer you one this morning.”
Claire stepped out and stopped dead. “Oh,” she breathed. “That’s quite a team of horses.”
Ethan followed, tightening his coat like that would somehow protect him from whatever madness this was. He stared at the horses. “It’s nice of you to share your horses with everyone. I saw a lot of happy faces last night on that sleigh.”
Martin shrugged. “Technically they’re Nate’s horses.”
Nate wrinkled his nose. “I offered to pay you for their care, Martin. Should I move them back here?”
“Nah,” Martin said proudly, slapping Thunder’s neck.
“We’re enjoying having them with us. The only thing bigger than their hooves is their heart.
Take your time deciding, but I’d like the first right of refusal if you decide not to keep them.
” His attention returned to Ethan, his smile widening. “You must be Nate’s dad.”
“Ethan Keaton,” he said, offering a hand.
Martin clasped it with both of his. “Just call me Martin.” He looked Ethan over. “You look like someone who likes a challenge.”
“I—what?”
“Ever driven a sleigh?”
“Absolutely not,” Ethan said firmly.
“Perfect. You’ll learn fast.” Martin clapped once. “You, too Nate. Who’s first?”
Ethan looked at Nate. “Does this kind of thing happen regularly around here?”
“Surprisingly, yes,” Nate said immediately.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
Martin did as well. “If Thunder likes you, you’ll be fine. If he doesn’t, well . . . we’ll know quickly.”
“That’s not reassuring,” Ethan muttered.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” His mouth twitched despite himself. “Nate, do you want to start?”
Nate helped me up then climbed up beside me. Martin joined us on the seat.
“Reins like this,” he said, positioning the leather in Nate’s hands. “You’re not yanking a machine. You’re having a conversation. Firm but friendly. Like dealing with stubborn in-laws. It’s best not to piss them off.”
“Is this safe?” Nate asked.
“Ish,” he murmured. “Just do exactly as I tell you exactly when I tell you.”
Thunder flicked an ear back at me, like he’d heard every word and agreed.
“Ready?” Martin asked.
Nate glanced at me, a spark in his eyes, and my heart thudded with pride. That’s my man. “Let’s do it,” he said.
I chuckled nervously. Imagine if this was how we died? After everything else. Edgar. Raymean. Years of running and hiding only to be taken out by a Christmas sleigh and the easy confidence of a city boy.
Martin clicked his tongue and gave a short command. The horses stepped forward, the sleigh jolted, and my stomach dropped in the best way as we slid across the packed snow.
Wind nipped my cheeks, but I was warm—Nate’s shoulder pressed to mine, his thigh solid against my leg, his gloved hands steady on the reins as Thunder and Lightning trotted like born show-offs.
I laughed. Actually laughed. Like a kid on her first roller coaster. Okay, I love this.
“Having fun?” Nate called over the creaking runners.
“No,” I yelled back. “I’m terrified. Obviously.”
He grinned, and Thunder tossed his head in agreement. “Want to take the reins?”
My eyes rounded. “You’d trust me?”
“Absolutely,” Nate said without a hint of doubt, and I fell for him all over again. I took the reins, received tips from Martin, and we flew through the snow-covered paths. When we returned, Nate and I were flushed and grinning, and my heart was thudding wildly.
“Not bad,” Martin said. “You two belong here.”
Nate smiled at me and nodded.
Ethan’s turn was . . . something.
He climbed in beside Martin, jaw tight, shoulders braced like he was entering a hostile negotiation. Martin handed him the reins.
“Just talk to them,” Martin said.
“I don’t speak horse,” Ethan replied.
“That’s your first problem. Click your tongue. Little pressure with the reins. Let them know you’re not afraid, that you’re in charge, but also you’re a team. They’ll only listen to you if they trust you.”
Ethan attempted his best impression of control, but the team sensed the truth—they moved, but slowly, almost humoring him.
“You’re holding back,” Martin called. “Horses aren’t impressed by reputation or money. All they care about is this moment and who you are with them. So, who are you, Ethan? Let them see.”
Ethan sat straighter, rolled his shoulders back, and clicked his tongue like he’d been born doing it. His seat was straight, his hands light, and the horses instantly responded to this side of Ethan.
Claire grabbed my arm. “That’s the Ethan I grew up with.”
Nate smiled. “That’s the dad who raised me. He’s a good man.”
Claire wiped away a tear. “Yes, he is.”
Ethan looked out of place yet calmly in command—this man who lived in boardrooms perched on a sleigh in expensive gloves while Martin lectured him on equine communication.
And then Ethan laughed in surprise as the horses picked up speed. A short, surprised bark. Then another. Martin whooped. Thunder and Lightning tossed their heads and they were gone.
Hopefully to return, we all agreed.
When they did, both Martin and Ethan looked like they’d had an exhilarating and possibly terrifying ride. We didn’t ask.
When we were all safely back on the pavement, Martin said, “Brewed Awakening just got fresh soup. Milo said it’s the best he’s made this season.”
Nate glanced at me. “You up for town?”
With him? With them? “Absolutely.”
Martin said he’d meet us there then headed down the snow-covered path, like some magical sleigh that appeared from nowhere and disappeared when no longer needed.
I overheard Nate say to his father, “So, how did you like your driving lesson?”
“I damn near got us both killed on one of the turns,” Ethan said deadpan, then added, “It was fucking amazing.”
I laughed and exchanged an amused look with Claire.
The café was packed—conversations rising and falling, espresso machine hissing, Christmas lights twinkling along the beams. Something rich and sugary baking and filling the place with heavenly aromas.
We stepped inside, shedding out coats as the heat assailed us. Milo leaned over the counter, taking one look and bursting into a grin. “If you’re going to bring the smell of the barn to town, you might as well bring the sleigh.”