Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
GAVIN
The Dunleith Christmas market is a relatively new tradition, so I haven’t visited it many times.
They’ve managed to capture the spirit and essence of the holidays perfectly.
Open wooden buildings with red roofs line either side of the High Street, with lights strung across the booths.
Greenery and wreaths are hung on the peaks of the roofs and each lamp post. It’s a vision of cozy delight for everyone except the children, who lost interest in the market after the first hour had come and gone.
Ruby, Hamish, and Luna took them to the playground behind the church while the rest of the group finished shopping.
Callie found a red scarf that matched her rosy cheeks, and her mum encouraged her to buy it.
Her father has followed the group, mostly speaking with Rhys and observing the festivities.
I can’t put my finger on what it is about Mr. and Mrs. Winter that looks so wholesome, but they perfectly embody every couple I saw in those American sitcoms growing up.
Maybe it was the way Mrs. Winter immediately hugged me when we met, or her smiling eyes, or Mr. Winter’s firm handshake and deep, intent gaze.
I swear the man was looking into my soul.
When they look at their daughters, they melt. It’s clear from watching this family they love each other deeply. It’s the way I know my grandparents feel about me. I was frustrated when my parents ducked out of our plans, but now I’m glad I don’t have to see a direct comparison.
“Gavin has horses,” Rhys says, drawing my attention away from Callie and her mom looking at hand-painted ornaments. “Two, I believe.”
“Irish draught horses, the pair of them,” I say. “But I don’t race. They’re only for riding.”
Mr. Winter’s interest grows immediately. “I don’t race either. In fact, I’ve taken an interest in training more spirited horses recently.”
“My grandfather had a tough stallion back when I was in school. I tried to help him, but it was a little strong for me.”
Mr. Winter nods. “Callie helped me a few years ago with one of mine, but she didn’t have enough time to devote to it. I did what I could, but we didn’t quite accomplish what we set out to.”
“She’s an excellent rider,” I say.
“How do you know that?” Rhys asks, looking amused.
“We rode last week.” I stuff my hands into my pockets. “One can only play so much Rubbish before one loses their mind.”
Rhys laughs. “Callie does love a good card game.”
Mr. Winter nods. “And a ride. It sounds like you’ve treated her well. I was worried when she told us she was snowed in, but she was obviously in good hands.” Mr. Winter looks me in the eye, which makes me regret half of the thoughts I’ve had about his daughter. “Thank you, son.”
Och, but my stomach twists. The word lands with a blow.
My dad loves me, but he doesn’t treat me like this.
I can’t remember the last time he’s thanked me for anything, and I’ve bought his house from him, gifted him bi-annual sums of money, and let him take my bedroom for a fortnight at Christmas while I have a house full of my cousin’s guests.
It stings.
But he isn’t here, so I push aside those feelings. “Of course, Mr. Winter. Callie’s been a delight to have about the place.”
“You can call me Tom. We don’t need to be formal.”
“Sure.”
Tom scrubs a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. The jet lag is probably getting to him. “I’m going to see if I can drag those women away so we can find somewhere to eat. I need a Coke.”
Rhys steps closer once Tom leaves, his arms crossed over his chest. “Lucky man.”
“Why’s that?”
“Tom didn’t tell me to use his first name nearly as fast. I had to call him Mr. Winter for our first two visits.” Rhys raises his eyebrows. “And I was dating his daughter.”
Heat billows through me. I’d like to date his other daughter, but it’s impossible. The man can probably sense that. “I’m not a real threat, Rhys.”
“Okay.”
Why did he sound so skeptical?
“I’ve known the woman for a week,” I say.
“No one’s telling you to propose. Don’t worry.” He claps me on the back. “But I know how hard it can be to stay away from those Winter women. Trust me, you’ll be Googling flights and calculating the costs of a long-distance relationship before you know it.”
I won’t tell him I might have already looked. I was only curious.
Callie sidles up to us, her eyes bright and smile wide. The woman is happy to be reunited with her parents, that much is plain. “You two hungry? Do you think everyone will want to eat?”
“Yes on both counts,” Rhys says.
I nod in agreement.
“Good. We can call Luna and have them meet us. Mom found a place on the corner with good reviews. It looks family-friendly.”
“Grand.” Rhys pulls out his phone and steps away. “I’ll give them a ring.”
“Gavin Mackenzie?” a woman’s voice says behind me, and the hair stands up on the back of my neck. I know the voice. Callie might even know the voice. We only saw this woman a few days ago.
I see Blair coming our way between the vendors, alone. Her long red hair is falling down her back, and her black coat is fitted over a pair of wide-legged jeans. She smiles at me until her gaze slides to Callie at my side, and I see the expression falter.
My stomach constricts. There could be a better time to run into Blair than at an event with Callie’s entire family. Maeve glances at us from a booth of wooden figurines she’s looking at, but Tom seems oblivious.
For all they know, she’s just a friend who never took my heart and ran it through a food processor. Twice. “Hiya, Blair,” I say.
Callie slides into my space, her shoulder pressing into my chest. It’s natural to draw my arm around her back and hold her against me. Once my shield is in place, comfort fills my body. I can relax a fraction, and it’s because Callie is standing beside me.
Hm. Interesting. My heart feels entirely apathetic toward Blair.
“Merry Christmas,” Callie says brightly. “How fun to run into you again.”
We can all read between those lines and sense the underlying sarcasm in that word. Fun? This is the opposite of fun. In Callie’s defense, she sounds genuine.
Blair glances at her dismissively, then looks at me again. “I didn’t like the way we ended things the other night. It didn’t feel like there was any closure.”
Our relationship is so closed, you couldn’t open it with a prybar. Maybe our last conversation felt incomplete, but we didn’t get closure any of the other times she walked out on me either. I blink at her. “I’m not sure we need that, Blair.”
Her chin tucks slightly. “There’s so much to tell you, though. Liv’s dad had a turnaround and decided he wants to know her, so she’s been building a relationship with him.”
How can one small bit of information spear my heart and make me happy at the same time? I sense myself being drawn back, like Blair knows exactly what to say to hurt me and ignite my curiosity enough to grasp the coattails of her mood.
Callie leans against me. “That’s such a beautiful thing.”
Blair’s eyes flick her way in irritation. “Should we grab a coffee, Gav? I can tell you everything.”
Without Callie, presumably. Despite how much I care about Liv, and how badly I’ve wanted this information, I don’t appreciate the way she’s weaponizing it, using it as a manipulation tactic against me.
Callie opens her mouth, but I squeeze her arm softly and she closes it again. I need to be the one to do this.
“We’re here with Callie’s family, so it’s not a good time. Have a good Christmas, Blair.”
She doesn’t miss the finality in my tone. The small step backward she takes gives me a moment of pause, but aside from my desire to be a good person, I feel nothing else for her. It’s freeing.
Blair stares at me for a beat before giving a slight nod. “See you around.”
I’m rather hoping not. Callie remains where she is until Blair walks away. Then she turns a little in my arms, looking into my face. “You good?”
I tighten my hold on her, sensing the mood shift between us. We ignore the close way her mum watched that interaction. “Aye.”
“Good.” Callie moves on seamlessly, making me endlessly grateful for her. “Are you having a good time?”
I glance at her parents, who have started walking toward the restaurant. “Your family is lovely.”
“My dad said you talked horses.”
“A wee bit.”
She nudges me gently with her shoulder. “Now that your secret’s out, you can expect a wee bit more.”
“I don’t mind it.”
“Okay, that’s a relief.” She laughs, then sobers. “We should’ve invited Nessa and Hamish today. The older Hamish.”
“Granny would’ve liked the market,” I agree.
“Bummer.” Callie frowns. “Sorry we scared your parents away.”
That’s what she thinks? I don’t know how she reached that conclusion, but I don’t like hearing her take responsibility for any of their erratic behavior. “You can never predict what they’re going to do, Callie.”
“This way!” Mrs. Winter calls.
Callie lifts her hand in acknowledgement, and we start down the street after her parents. We pass a cider booth and inhale a plume of warm cinnamon and apple.
“Don’t feel responsible, because you’re not. I’ve never been able to guess at their choices or why they make them.”
She looks at me for the space of two booths before speaking again. “That must have felt very chaotic as a child.”
“It was difficult when I lacked the emotional maturity to see they weren’t intentionally trying to hurt me.”
“But Rhona’s helped you to see it’s their own mental challenges at play here and not a fault of your own?” she guesses, playing with the ends of her new red scarf.
Maybe it would be better if Rhona had done that. “Not exactly. She’s helped me to accept them as they are.”
“Healthy distance and boundaries?” she asks.
“In a way.” I shrug. “When they’re around, I’m pleased to spend time with them, and when they’re not, I don’t press them for more than they can give.”