20. Reid
20
REID
E xhaustion consumes me as Wren and I pull into the tree farm. We should have just gone home because being here no longer brings me joy.
At least not today.
Right now, it’s bittersweet—the best and worst days of my life existing with acres of trees.
“I just have to drop this stuff off and then we can go home.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, I’ll be back in a minute.”
She’s barely out of the car before my eyes are closed and my head has fallen to the headrest. I hate feeling this way, like I’m drowning and can’t breach the surface no matter how hard I try.
My phone chirps in my lap, and it takes every ounce of effort to open my eyes and look at the screen.
WREN: Come outside
I blink and read the message again, my annoyance growing as I wrestle out of my seatbelt, cursing Wren as I do because I just asked her if she needed help. Growling, I slam the door and take a step toward the shop.
And then it happens.
A soft glow lights up the night, dozens of trees wrapped in white lights creating the most romantic winter scene I’ve ever seen. I gasp, barely noticing that Wren has appeared at my side. Kissing my cheek, she hands me a red envelope.
“Merry Christmas, Reid.”
“What—”
She nods toward the envelope. “Open it.”
Heart hammering in my chest, I tear open the paper with shaking hands, my nickname scribbled at the top.
Christmas,
I don’t call you Christmas to be cliché but because you embody all that is good in this world and every hope and dream surrounding it. You shine bright not just one day, but every day, and I’ll be forever grateful to have basked in your light.
The next letter is among the trees.
Harlan
“Wren,” I whisper, my throat clogged with an emotion I’d rather not name as I look to my cousin for the push I need to take that first step.
“Go,” she says quietly, her hand pointing toward a small arrow sign stuck in the ground.
Giving her a watery smile, I take a breath and follow the arrows through the trees, finding another red envelope resting on the branches.
Christmas,
Onyx and I aren’t so different. Maybe he needed someone broken like him, but I need you. You don’t see it, but you’ve done the same for me since I landed in Wintervale. You never saw a broken man—you just saw me.
Find me among the trees. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.
Harlan
I stare at the words. Black ink on white paper shouldn’t hold so much weight but it does. This morning he’d been so sure we could never be—what had changed? What had made him run?
Do I want to know?
The simple answer is yes.
But life isn’t simple, and I don’t want to go through the hurt again to just be tossed away when things get hard.
Sighing, I look down at my feet, my eyes catching on something on the path a few steps in front of me. Bending down, I pick up two thermoses and pull the card from one, before shoving them under my arm and opening the envelope.
Christmas,
You remember the little things.
The things that feel so inconsequential but mean the most because they resonate with us like nothing else ever will. They make us who we are, and you didn’t run when you finally saw me—when I no longer wanted to hide.
Just a little bit farther, baby.
Please.
Harlan
I don’t need to open the thermoses to know there’s white hot chocolate in one and peppermint in the other.
His favorite and mine.
Before I even know what’s happening, my feet are carrying me down the path covered in packed snow and pine needles, blood pounding in my ears.
The path opens slightly and I realize I’m in the field Harlan and I’d been assigned to, the day that had changed our dynamic, when he’d brushed his thumb against my bottom lip and I’d been lost to him.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, stepping around one of the trees and moving to stand in front of me.
“Are you wearing a sweater?” I ask, the comment stupid and obvious, but my brain has only latched on to the idea that the man before me owns a sweater.
He looks down, and then up at me, his cheeks blushing the slightest shade of pink as I set the thermoses on the ground. “I wanted to look nice for you.”
“You always look nice,” I whisper as tears blur my vision.
“I look like I’m either going to or coming home from work.”
The words are supposed to bring levity but all I can think is come home to me.
“I like the way you look.”
His smile is hesitant as he takes a step closer, and then another before reaching for my hand and intertwining our fingers. I let him, the familiarity settling my nerves and making me believe this will all be okay.
“I fucked up this morning.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah, Christmas, I did.” Harlan’s rough palm cups my jaw, his thumb brushing away the wetness on my cheek. “This morning before you woke up, your uncle texted me, asking to see me.”
“About Onyx and the job.”
He nods, his lips pressing into a firm line. “Would’ve saved a hell of a lot of heartache if I’d just told you about the message, huh?”
“What happened?” The question lingers between us, but I don’t mean today. I mean whatever sent him spiraling over a simple text.
“I was engaged,”—he chuffs out a laugh—“well, kind of.”
“How are you kind of engaged?” I ask, my voice rising.
“You ask someone to marry you, they say yes when they have no intention of going through with it, and you learn your relationship was as fake as the love they professed for you.”
“Oh, Harlan.”
“He was the ranch owner’s son and had a bit of a reputation and they—he—used me to fix it.”
“How long?”
“Over a year,” he admits with a tone I can’t quite read. “We kept a low profile around the ranch, by never going out and by staying away from public events. I didn’t mind because I was thankful for the privacy. When his father called me to his office, Dante was already there. I was fired, paid to keep my mouth shut, and realized the man I thought I was in love with had used me for his own financial gain.”
“And then?”
“I traveled around, working and getting drunk—went on a bender I’m not particularly proud of when his engagement to a woman in another high-powered family made headlines.” I nod, as I take it all in. “And then I found myself in Wintervale with a man who just wouldn’t let up.”
“He sounds awful.”
“He turned out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Leaning in, his hand moves to grip the back of my neck, the smell of pine and soap invading my senses. “ You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I’m so sorry that I broke us.”
And I’m so sorry that I broke us.
Me too, Harlan, me too.
“So, what now?”