Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ben
Christmas Eve had arrived, and I wasn’t proud to admit, by the time I closed the clinic at three, I was ready to tell the world to fa-la-la-la fuck off.
How many times over the past month had I envisioned how special this Christmas would be with Emerson and her kids under our roof? How harmonious and loud and full of laughter, with used wrapping paper covering the living room floor and hugs of gratitude overtaking the day?
She and her kids would be under our roof, but everyone’s spirits had dimmed.
The kids had no true idea what had happened between Emerson and me, but they could sense something was off.
They saw how we interacted—stiffly and politely—every time we came into contact.
Throw on top of it the still-present disappointment that Kizzy and her wife were missing the big day, and everything was just… off. Un-fucking-merry.
I trudged toward the house after my staff had left. The sky was heavy, the clouds low and dark with more impending snow, but not even a white Christmas was going to fix my mood.
The horses and llamas were tucked away in the barn.
Evelyn had insisted the chickens needed some fresh air, so we’d left their house open, allowing the birds to roam in their pen while it was light out, but only Cayenne and Ginger were braving the cold air.
The others had the right idea as far as I was concerned.
What I wouldn’t give to burrow deep in my bed and sleep the afternoon away. I didn’t want to dampen the kids’ excitement, but I just couldn’t act like everything was fine.
I wasn’t fine. I wasn’t in the same zip code as fine.
The more time that passed without Emerson wrangling her fears, the clearer it became: This had been my last chance with her, and my last chance was fizzling out in failure.
I went into the house, shed my coat, and inhaled the smell of recently popped popcorn. The washing machine was running in the laundry room, which told me Berty was doing a load of the kids’ clothes even though I’d insisted I would take care of the chore.
I found Evelyn and Berty in the living room, Berty reading a paperback and my daughter doing a word search in an activity book, both with a bowl of popcorn at their side. Christmas music played quietly from a speaker.
When she saw me, Ev jumped up and gave me a hug. “Hi, Daddy! How was work?”
Her happiness coaxed a smile from me. “Work was good. Lots of cats in today, including five kittens from one litter.”
“Can we get one?”
That pulled a genuine laugh out of me. “No room at the inn, dear daughter. The Holloway house is full up.”
“But when Miss Emerson takes Nugget and Xavier and Sky and moves to a house, we’ll have four spots open.”
The truth of that hit me in the chest like a steel beam, but I did my best to hide it, instead sharing an amused look with Berty.
“We’re not getting any new pets, vacancies or not.”
“The humans are already outnumbered,” Berty added.
“Kittens are so cute though.”
“Maybe you could draw a picture of a cat family,” Berty suggested.
Evelyn considered that. “Okay, I’ll try it.” She sat back down on the floor, pulled out a sketch pad from under the activity book, and started drawing.
“Are the others upstairs?” I asked.
“Last I knew they were building a blanket fort, hoping you’d let them sleep in it tonight,” Berty said.
I headed upstairs.
“Wow. What alternate blanket universe have I walked into?” I asked when I stepped into Ruby’s room. They must’ve absconded with every blanket in the house.
“Hey, Dad!” Ruby called from inside the fort.
“Hi, Dr. Ben! This is my room over here,” Xavier said, his head popping up from between two blankets hanging on the far side of the room.
“Architects in training, huh?”
“We have a kitchen and two bedrooms and a living room and a game room,” Ruby said, her voice getting closer as she presumably crawled through the tent. She popped out near me and hugged my legs.
“Where’s Skyler?”
“She’s not in here.” My daughter stood and surveyed the fort from the outside.
“I think she’s with Evelyn,” Xavier said, poking his head out of a different space.
I frowned. “She wasn’t with Ev. I’ll check her room. Happy decorating.”
Forty-five seconds later, I’d checked Evelyn and Skyler’s room, the bathroom, and Emerson’s room, which I needed to start thinking of as the guest room again, but found no Skyler.
With alarm beginning to pulse through me, I poked my head back in Ruby’s room. “You’re sure Sky’s not in here hiding somewhere? I can’t find her.”
“Skyler!” Ruby called.
“She’s not in my room or the game room,” Xavier said, his voice moving under the blanket roof as he searched. “Not in our kitchen.”
“Check under your real beds too,” I said and went to do the same in the other two bedrooms. I looked behind the shower curtain and scanned all the closets. “Shit.”
“She’s not in there,” Ruby said, exiting her room with a concerned look.
The three of us thundered down the stairs. “Check the laundry room and bathroom.” I went into the living room. “We can’t find Sky.”
Berty shot up out of the chair quickly for her age. “Did you check Ev’s room?”
“I checked everywhere upstairs. The kids are looking in the laundry room.”
“What about the barn and the chicken house?” she asked.
“I’m on my way.” I strode toward the mudroom.
Evelyn sped past me. “I’ll go look in the chicken house, Dad.”
“She’s not anywhere,” Ruby said, coming out of the laundry room with Xavier behind her. “I’m worried, Daddy.”
I summoned every ounce of confidence I could and said, “Let’s not panic yet. You two get your coats on and check the workshop and the garage.”
All four of us grabbed our coats and headed outside, scattering in different directions.
As I jogged to the barn, my panic crept higher. I didn’t want Emerson to go through this fear again: the searching, the not knowing. I understood very well what it’d done to her last time.
The what-ifs and the worst-case scenarios were knocking on my brain, taunting me.
Skyler might as well be my own daughter.
I loved her as if she were. It was no longer just about her and Xavier being Blake’s children.
Not even just because they were Emerson’s.
They were part of our family, regardless of my relationship with their mom.
With my heart pounding, I slid the main barn door open and rushed in. The lights were low, and at first I didn’t see anyone, but then I caught a glimpse of brown hair at the opposite end.
“Sky?”
Her head popped out from Esmerelda’s stall—about four feet above the ground.
“Sweetie, what are you doing?” I jogged closer, not believing my eyes.
She was sitting in the llama’s empty hay bin that attached to the half wall, smiling as big as day, Waylon the elephant next to her, Esmerelda’s snout close by.
Skyler had apparently shoved the large bin of cat food over to the wall, climbed up on it, then crawled over the shorter stall wall, plush elephant in tow.
“Sharing,” she said proudly, holding up a half-eaten rainbow-sprinkle cookie. Then with her other hand, she held out the zipper bag where the rest were stored.
Esmerelda chomped contentedly, her big eyes following the bag.
I rushed up to Sky on this side of the stall to ensure she wasn’t in any danger, hugging her awkwardly over the wall.
“You…” I couldn’t help it. I laughed, feeling lightness in my chest that I hadn’t felt in days, brought on by profound relief and the picture she made, sitting there in the feeding trough, happy as a… llama with a cookie.
I hugged her again. “We were worried about you, Sky Blue. You can’t leave the house without telling an adult.”
“Grandma Berty was busy doing laundry,” she said matter-of-factly, and it was damn hard to muster any true annoyance. “And the llamas needed their Christmas presents.”
“Cookies?”
She nodded once emphatically, looking pleased with herself.
I pulled out my phone and texted Berty.
She’s in the barn. All is well.
To prove my claim, and because you really needed to see this to believe it, I reassured myself the feed bin was secure, then stepped back a few feet, telling her, “Stay still and smile, silly goose.”
We’d have a stern discussion later, when my relief leveled out.
As I went back to Sky’s side, Emerson walked into the barn. “What’s going on? Why’s the door open?”
The sight of her punched me in the gut. She wore an oversized, fuzzy green sweater over leggings, knee-high boots, and a multicolored scarf around her neck.
Her long hair was wind-tousled, her cheeks pink, her smile seeming a little more genuine than it had lately.
Maybe she was actually feeling some holiday spirit.
“Your daughter’s gotten into a little mischief,” I said lightly.
Emerson’s smile disappeared as she hurried toward us. “Skyler?” She craned her neck as she realized where Sky was. “What are you doing?”
“Eating cookies with Esmerelda,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world and she hadn’t been scared of the llama just a few weeks ago.
Emerson met my gaze with a questioning one.
“We couldn’t find her for a few minutes. Luckily I looked here first. Everybody’s fine.” I hoisted Skyler and her elephant out of the feed bin and over the wall to our side, hugging her close. “We’ll have a discussion about safety and rules later.”
When I held Sky toward her mom, Emerson surprised me by putting her arms around both of us for a hug. Before now, she’d barely looked me in the eye since leaving last week.
I bit down on the questions that set off in my mind and soaked in the moment of being close to these two people I loved with all my heart.