Chapter 29 What Ifs and If Onlys
Twenty-Nine
What Ifs and If Onlys
Logan
By the time I get my shit together and bolt down the stairs, her SUV is already halfway down the driveway.
I come to a halt on the porch, the wood planks like ice against my feet, and watch helplessly as she disappears around the corner.
A bitter wind slaps against my bare skin.
Shit. I’m only wearing boxer briefs. Across the street, Mrs. Smith freezes mid-mail grab.
Her hand clutches her chest, eyes going wide as a smile forms on her lips.
Mr. Smith hustles out, glances at her and then me, eyes narrowing before tugging her back inside.
Nothing they haven’t seen if they saw the underwear ad I did several years ago, minus the erection.
Spinning around, I enter the house, slam the door, and collapse onto the couch.
My head drops into my hands, fingers digging into my hair.
“Smooth, Crawford. Real smooth.” I don’t know why I said Brooke’s name.
I certainly wasn’t thinking about her at that moment.
It just slipped out of my mouth. I can’t blame Brie for leaving.
I would have done the same, if not worse, if she had called me some other guy’s name.
I’ve heard the locker room horror stories—guys who said the wrong name in bed.
I laughed. Called them dumbasses. And now? Guess who’s the dumbass.
Lifting my chin, a photo album filled with pictures from Christmas four years ago sits in front of me.
The last one with Brooke. Josie asked for a picture of her mom to turn into an ornament.
My chest tightens. Maybe I’m not over her.
Maybe I’ll never be. Fuck. I don’t know anymore.
There will always be a part of my heart that belongs to Brooke.
And Brie’s right. She deserves more than I can give her.
But at the same time, I don’t want to give her up.
She makes me want to try. She makes me believe I can have more than grief and guilt.
She’s my Snowflake. My second chance. If she hasn’t given up on me yet, I’ll be damned if I give up on her.
I take the stairs two at a time, dragging on clothes with one hand while jabbing at my phone with the other.
Every call to Brie goes straight to voicemail.
Each text message unread. Once I’m dressed, I circle her house, but it’s dark.
Next, the festival grounds. Nothing. The Crooked Reindeer’s parking lot is overflowing.
My pulse spikes. If she’s anywhere, maybe she’s here.
I crawl the rows, searching for her SUV.
Nothing. I need to find her. Talk to her.
Two blocks away I squeeze into a parking spot and jog down the icy sidewalk, my breath clouding in the frigid air.
By the time I yank open the door, heat and noise slam into me all at once—laughter, voices raised over the bingo caller, glasses clinking.
I scan the crowded room, eyes darting from table to table, searching for a glimpse of her hair, her coat, her smile.
Nothing. I shoulder past a couple of regulars and step up to the bar.
Simon spots me immediately, his brows lifting in surprise. “Hey man. I didn’t know you liked Christmas ham bingo.”
I lean in, my throat tight. “I don’t. I’m looking for Brie. Have you seen her?”
Simon shakes his head. “I haven’t. Which is weird, considering her friends are here.” He nods toward a high-top where Willa and Sloane sit.
“Alright, thanks. Also, I know you didn’t ask her out.” I glare at him.
He laughs. “But it served its purpose.”
I shake my head. The move was effective. I’ll give him that. I push away and weave through the crowd until I reach them. “Where’s Brie?” The words rip out sharper than intended.
Both women whip around like I’ve just suggested Santa was overrated.
“She’s at home,” Sloane says cautiously.
“I drove by. Lights were off.” My eyes flick between them, desperate for a tell.
From behind me, someone shouts, “Sit down, I can’t see the board!”
I ignore it. “So where is she really?”
Willa shrugs. “She bailed on bingo, claimed she was sick. Which is bullshit. She has shown up half-dead with influenza just to play. Clearly, she wants to be left alone. And if you wanted to be left alone, would you keep your lights on?” She arches a brow.
“I need to talk to her. It’s important.”
“Take a seat or get out!” another voice bellows.
“You better listen to them. It’s bingo night, and they take it very seriously,” Sloane says.
“B-five,” the bingo caller announces.
“Quiet up front!” another person roars.
My jaw clenches so tight it aches. “I don’t care about bingo! Is she going to be at the festival tomorrow?”
“More than likely.” Willa shrugs, eyes narrowing. “What did you do, anyway?”
“Nothing,” I blurt. Which, let’s be honest, is basically everything.
“Quit yapping! We can’t hear the numbers!” someone else hollers.
My jaw clenches and I twist around. “B-five!”
“Your reaction doesn’t say ‘nothing,’” Willa says.
“O-sixty-nine,” the caller announces.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Chances are Brie’s going to tell them what I did anyway. “I messed up, okay? I need her to hear me out, and she won’t answer my calls.”
“Still can’t hear!” someone else shouts.
Willa leans in. “Give her time. She’ll come around. But you better get out of here. Someone may shank you with their pocketknife bingo dabber.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Do you want to stay and find out?” Sloane adds.
I huff. “Fine. If you see Brie, tell her I need to talk to her.”
“Sure thing,” Willa says.
I turn around and stomp toward the exit. “I’m leaving. You can go back to bingo.” The entire bar applauds.
Back in my truck, I scrub a hand over my face, contemplating driving to Brie’s house, pounding on the door, and demand she talk to me.
What do I even say? “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.
” Already tried that, and she’s still icing me out.
Fuck it. Willa and Sloane say she’s at home, so that’s where I’m going.
Standing at her doorstep, I lift my hand and knock on her front door.
“Brie! I know you’re home. Please open up.
” I knock again. “Brie!” My forehead drops against the door, the wood cold against my skin.
“If you won’t open, then maybe you’ll just listen.
I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I said it.
It was an accident.” The ache in my chest goes hollow.
I spin and slide down the door until I’m sitting on her “Merry AF” doormat.
With my elbows resting on my knees, I rake through my hair.
Snowflakes fall from the sky and accumulate around me.
“Moving back to Mount Holly has been one giant change,” I murmur into the night.
“Hell, the past three years have been nothing but change. But this past month with you? Brie, you were the change I didn’t know I needed.
You made me believe I could… breathe again.
” My breath fogs white into the cold, vanishing as quickly as it forms. “Brooke will always be a part of me. I can’t erase that.
I’ll always love her. But she’s my past. Maybe I’m still healing, but being with you has been the first time I’ve felt alive in years.
I don’t know if I’m the man you deserve, but damn it, I want to try.
” I sit up and lean my back against the door.
For the first time, I actually feel how numb I’ve been.
Above me, a click echoes. The door creaks open—and suddenly I’m flat on my back in Brie’s entryway, staring up at the ceiling while the doorplate digs into my spine.
“Oh!” Brie jumps back, then crouches beside me. Her eyes are puffy and red, and guilt slams through me. She’s been crying. Because of me.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, scrambling upright. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Her lips press together, trembling.
“I like you. A lot. And I don’t want to throw this away.”
Her eyes flicker with something soft before hardening again.
“I like you too. But now isn’t the best time for us.
I appreciate everything you said, but I think it’s best we put the brakes on this.
” She waves a hand between us. “It’s been a lot and fast. I understand Brooke will always be a part of your life, and that’s okay.
But also, I need to look out for myself.
The last few days of the festival are the most important, and that’s where all my attention needs to be. ”
I nod because what else can I do? She’s right. She deserves more than I can give her.
“I’m sure we’ll see each other around. It’s Mount Holly, after all.” She huffs a laugh that’s half-hearted at best, then pushes to her feet. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Thanks for listening.”
She rises to her tiptoes and presses a kiss to my cheek—sweet, final. I lean toward her lips, but she pulls back. “Bye, Logan.” The door closes, leaving me outside in the dark.
Not the ending I wanted. Hell, I don’t even know what ending I wanted. But at least it’s better than her ignoring me altogether.
By the time I slump into my truck, the ache in my chest has settled into something sharp. I drive on autopilot to my parents’ house, the whole ride one endless loop of what ifs and if onlys.
I rap my knuckles against the door before pushing it open. “Hello?”
My mom peeks her head around the corner. “Hey, Logan. Come in.”
I toe off my boots and hang up my coat and meet her the kitchen. “Smells good.”
“Swedish meatballs,” she says, already pulling out an extra plate. “Are you hungry?”
She slides it across the kitchen island, and I add it to the empty spot at the table.
She leans closer, lowering her voice like she has some top-secret intel. “How are things going with… Brie?”
I collapse onto the stool, rubbing a hand over my face. “Over.”
The potato masher clatters into the pot, and she turns on me with a glare that could crush a grown man. “What did you do?”
“Why do you assume it was me?” I ask, but the look she gives me is answer enough. “Fine. It was me.”
Her expression softens. “Logan, what happened?”
I scrub my hands down my face. “Maybe it’s best I don’t start dating yet.”
She rests a hand on my arm. “Sweetheart, I say this with love—it’s been three years. It’s okay to move on.”
“I am moving on. I sold the Chicago house, moved back here for Josie, for a better life. I’m moving on.”
But even as I say it, my chest feels heavy. Because maybe moving on and moving forward aren’t the same thing at all.
Mom arches a brow. “Only to organize a Christmas carnival that wasn’t even your idea. I want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. You’ve never been Mister Christmas Spirit. So why now?”
“People change.”
“They can.” She tilts her head. “Let me ask you this. What do you want?”
Her question lands like a weight in my gut. What do I want? It should be easy. Everyone should know what they want. But the truth? My life feels like it’s hovering at an intersection with no street signs.
I fidget with the corner of a kitchen towel, then force myself to meet her eyes.
“I don’t want to be a shell anymore.” My voice is rough, but a piece of me feels lighter just saying it.
“I want to live. Really live. I thought finishing Brooke’s carnival dream would finally put her memory to rest. But it’s not my dream.
It never was. And you’re right. The carnival isn’t me. ”
“In cases like this,” she says gently, “it’s okay to be selfish. Brooke’s legacy already lives on—in Josie, in every memory you two made. You don’t have to complete her dream to prove you loved her. And if she’s watching, she’s definitely calling you an idiot for even trying.”
My lips twitch. Yeah. That sounded exactly like Brooke.
Mom smiles, softening. “When your dad passed away, I found his bucket list. Only one thing wasn’t crossed off.”
“What was it?”
A smile tugs at her lips. “To go skydiving. I spent a lot of time contemplating whether I should finish his list for him.”
“Did you?”
“Jump out of a perfectly operational airplane? No! His list stayed unfinished, and I know your dad would want it that way. He was stubborn, but he never wanted anyone else to live his life for him.”
I can’t help it—I smile. She’s right.
Her gaze flicks to mine, warm but firm. “There was a time I thought I’d never find anyone again either. But then I met John. He made me laugh again. He reminded me that life wasn’t over just because a chapter ended. And now I want the same for you.”
I lower my head, her words sinking in deeper than I want to admit.
“I know you buried yourself in hockey so you could avoid the silence,” she continues.
“I did the same when your father passed. All those school fundraisers I helped organize, volunteering at the Mount Holly Community Club, I didn’t do those things for fun.
It kept my mind off losing your father. But, Logan”—she squeezes my hand—"this past month, since Brie, I’ve seen something in you I haven’t seen in years.
A real smile. Not the fake one you plaster on for show.
The one that reaches your eyes. The one that tells me you’re happy. ”
She releases my hand and gestures toward the back door. “Now, go grab John and Josie from the yard and wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”
I stand, but her words echo in my chest. For as much as Brie drives me insane, she also makes me feel—everything. With her, the past doesn’t drown me. When she smiles, I remember what it’s like to actually want a future.
And for the first time in years, I know exactly what I want. Her.