Chapter 11 - Briar
brIAR
I had one of the best Christmases in recent memory, and it’s all due to Dawson being here.
Starting with yesterday morning when he was lying on top of me and was just about to kiss me.
I was so hard, I could’ve pounded nails with my dick.
It was flattering knowing he was just as turned on.
If Mom hadn’t interrupted, I have no idea what we would’ve gotten up to, but damn if I don’t wish for that opportunity again.
But last night was just as gratifying when I woke in the middle of the night to Dawson spooning me, his arm draped around my waist. Once this trip ends, my roomy bed back home might feel a bit too lonely.
I park near Goody’s Hardware to run an errand for my parents while Dawson helps them at Blooming Acres.
We rode in on the snowmobiles after taking our time through the path near the mountains again.
It was exhilarating, and I can tell Dawson loves all of it—the snow, the scenery, even the family time. And hell, what more could I ask for?
Although the farm is open the week after Christmas, the focus is more on cleanup and storage for the winter months.
A few customers will stop by to purchase sales items for next season or Mom’s silver-and-gold New Year’s wreaths, but for the most part, from here on out, it’s considered the off-season, and given how busy they’ve been, I’m glad for it.
Soon enough they’ll be seeding potted plants for the spring thaw.
Just as I step onto the curb, my name is being called by none other than Mark. This time he’s alone, and by the looks of it, he’s just picked up some treats from the bakery across the street.
“Oh, hey,” I greet him, trying to rein in my battering pulse. “How was your Christmas?”
His mouth splits into a wide, genuine smile. “Really nice. How about yours?”
My grin matches his. “It was great.”
“Glad to hear it.” He toes a rock on the sidewalk. “Your boyfriend seems nice.”
I nod. “So does your husband.”
“Thanks, Briar. I…” He trails off, shifting uncomfortably. “We, uh, saw you at the tree lighting, but I wasn’t sure if I should approach.”
I inhale a sharp breath. “Why not?”
His eyebrows pull together. “Because seeing you the other day had me thinking about how I handled things back then.”
I hitch a shoulder nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t one of the most significant relationships of my life—likely my only one—and left me reeling even years later. “That was a long time ago.”
“It was, yes.” His features soften. “I guess I just wanted you to know…that it was all me. We had plans, and I…I got scared.”
“Of me?” It’s a kneejerk response after being told by other guys that I was too serious when they only wanted casual.
He shakes his head. “Of college and a career and settling down so early.”
“Seriously?” I scoff. “But you met Michael, had all kinds of adventures with him, stuff you never even shared with me that you wanted to do.”
Not that I would’ve traveled through Europe with him, but there could’ve been a conversation, at the very least, or a compromise.
“You’re right.” He averts his eyes. “But Michael and I were just friends in the beginning, and then it turned into more.”
I fight a frown, wanting to lash out, but at the same time wanting to get past all this. It’s obvious Michael shared similar interests. “It was probably for the best.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “How so?”
“Had you not dumped me, I wouldn’t have met such a great guy years later.”
Here I am, acting like Dawson is really mine. He feels like he is, but despite getting closer on this trip and having open conversations about relationships, I must remember this isn’t real and we’re still pretending.
“Are you saying we wouldn’t have worked out?” Underneath Mark’s teasing tone I note a hint of hurt that tells me my response stung. Though I’m not sure why.
Regardless, I can’t help releasing some of that bitterness that has built up over the years.
“Isn’t it obvious?” God, it feels good to finally realize how true it is.
That we were never meant to be. How every guy I’ve been burned by has led me to right here, right now, where I’m more content than I’ve been in a long time.
And even if Dawson doesn’t reciprocate my feelings, I’m evolving in a good direction, so I’ll always be grateful for meeting him.
But damn if I don’t want Dawson to want me in the same way.
“The truth is, we’re different people. All your experiences sounded fun and interesting, but I had different goals. ”
“I know.”
“You still could have shared it with me, or done things in a different way. We were best friends before we were boyfriends.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry for ending things how I did and then just…well, fucking up our friendship in the process.”
Because he hadn’t kept up with me. He’d just been gone. I had to hear about his life through my parents or social media.
“It’s okay.” And it is. I’m tired of dwelling on the past. “Sounds like you figured out some things too.”
“I think we’re both where we’re supposed to be. Michael and I have had our struggles, but I know he’s the one for me.”
“Happy for you.” I thump his shoulder, feeling a weight lift off mine. “Truly.” I’m finally on the right path, even if I’m unsure where Dawson and I are headed.
His smile is melancholy. “Think we can still be friendly when you’re in town?”
“Of course.”
Once we wave goodbye, I find myself humming a silly Christmas tune the entire time I’m in the store, and as soon as I’m finished, I can’t drive back to the farm fast enough. I want to make the most of the time I have left on this trip with Dawson. And I want to be brave enough to tell him that.
He flags me down near the barn where he and Mom are laughing about something. I’m struck again by how well he fits here, not only in Bright’s Hollow, but with my family. I feel momentary nerves, but I push forward. “Hey, can we talk—”
“Want to go on a date night with me?” Dawson blurts, rendering me temporarily speechless.
Mom’s grin widens. “I told him about the steakhouse we like off Main Street.”
My stomach knots because it feels like we’re playacting for Mom again, and that’s something that no longer sits right with me. Still, I rein in my reaction. “Sure. Sounds good.”
When Mom walks away, Dawson eyes me. “Why do you look disappointed?”
“I’m not.” I shake my head and think about my conversation with Mark, how I feel like with Dawson is where I belong. “It’s just something that’s been bugging me—I don’t feel like pretending anymore.”
“I’m not pretending,” Dawson says, and my eyes spring to his. “I was asking you out on a real date.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “You were?”
He nods enthusiastically, even as his eyes seem wary. “I talked to Nathan about it. Told him I’m here with you and that…I really like you and want more—of this.”
When he motions between us, I can’t quite make sense of everything he’s just confessed. So I compartmentalize the second half. “How did Nathan respond?”
“He said he’s cool with it.”
I want to feel anger or disappointment, but it doesn’t come.
Relief replaces those emotions, which only strengthens the point that Nathan never was for me.
In fact, he’s probably already moved on because he’s not one to dwell.
And I no longer feel that sting of hurt about it because deep down, I always knew we weren’t right for each other.
But I sure as hell hope Dawson and I are.
I grab his hand and tangle our fingers together.
“I absolutely want more of this. The truth is, I was attracted to you first, but I didn’t realize you felt the same.
So I was glad we at least became friendly.
You coming on this trip made everything more special—magical—and had we not been interrupted yesterday, I would’ve wanted whatever was going to happen between us. ”
He studies my eyes as if searching for the underpinnings of truth. Seemingly satisfied, he replies, “Me too.”
Relief floods me, and I can’t help the smile that breaks over my face. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go on that date.”
We head back to the house to shower and change.
Mom’s in the kitchen, prepping leftovers for her and Dad as we head out the door. “Have fun, boys.”
That same guilt pinches my stomach, and I consider turning back around and confessing it all, but I don’t want to ruin the night. There will be plenty of time to figure that out later.
As if Dawson can read my thoughts, he grabs my hand and squeezes it before opening the passenger door for me.
“What a gentleman,” I tease, but I love it—how considerate he is, as well as how hot he looks for our date night in his dark-wash jeans and sweater.
Even the puffer coat and scarf are a cute addition.
We’re early for our reservation, so we window-shop on Main Street, ending up at the enormous tree that will stay lit until after New Year’s.
Dawson grabs hold of both my hands. “Thank you for all this. For making my holiday special.”
I wink. “Asking you to be my fake boyfriend was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”
His gaze intensifies as his fingers reach up to cup my cheek.
He hesitates briefly, but when I lean forward, he meets me halfway.
His lips are warm and soft, and I groan at the contact.
I’ve been dying for this all week, and it doesn’t disappoint.
He grips my waist and pulls me closer, deepening the kiss.
Our tongues flick tentatively, then tangle, as the world around us melts away and I’m lost in his scent and the sensation of his scruff rubbing against my cheek.
My hands drift to his shoulders, then his hair, my fingers burrowing in the soft waves.
I have no idea how long we’re kissing before the town comes rushing back into stark focus, and we pull away, panting heavily, snowflakes melting on our cheeks. His lips are puffy, his eyes gazing dreamily, and if I could take a snapshot of this moment in time, I would.
He straightens his beanie. “Talk about a Hallmark-movie ending.”
“Ending?” I tease. “We’re just getting started.”