Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
T he MacGregor home glowed with warmth against the autumn evening, laughter and firelight spilling from its windows. Ancient wooden beams crossed the ceiling, worn smooth by centuries of care, while Celtic knots carved into the mantlepiece caught the dancing flames. Tom sat beside Ella on the oversized couch, their shoulders touching, while Gareth held court from his favorite armchair—a massive leather piece that looked like it might have come straight from a Highland castle.
The wives had cleared the dinner dishes despite their husbands’ protests, leaving the men to their traditional after-dinner storytelling. The scent of Lissa’s spice cake lingered in the air, mixing with woodsmoke and the distinctive aroma of Aiden’s special-occasion scotch.
“Have I ever told you,” Gareth began, his accent thickening as it always did during these moments, “about the Highland warrior who waited five centuries to find his heart’s true match?”
Liam groaned dramatically, sprawling across his own chair. “Not this one again. Though I suppose it’s appropriate, given recent developments.” He waggled his eyebrows at Tom and Ella.
“Hush, brother. It’s a good tale.” Gareth’s eyes glinted in the firelight, ancient and knowing. “There was once a proud warrior, you see, who thought he needed no one. Who built walls around his heart high enough to keep out an army.”
Tom felt Ella’s hand slip into his, and something in his chest loosened. He noticed she was wearing the pendant again—it seemed to catch the firelight in an almost otherworldly way.
“But fate,” Gareth continued, leaning forward in his chair, “has a way of laughing at such defenses. For into his life came a lass with eyes like summer storms and a spirit that wouldn’t be denied. Though he fought against it, though he told himself he wasn’t ready...”
“Though he was stubborn as a Highland mule,” Liam interjected, earning a swat from Amber.
“Though he was cautious,” Aiden corrected quietly, sharing a look with Zoey that spoke volumes about their own love story.
“The warrior found himself drawn to her,” Gareth pressed on, his voice taking on a rhythmic quality that made Tom wonder if this was how the old bards had spoken. “Found his walls crumbling stone by stone, until he realized something profound.” His gaze met Tom’s. “Sometimes the greatest strength lies not in standing alone, but in letting someone stand beside you.”
“And then they lived happily ever after,” Liam added cheerfully. “After several months of completely obvious pining that drove their family mad.”
“Years, in some cases,” Zoey murmured, making Aiden blush.
Ella laughed, squeezing Tom’s hand. “Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, I’m sure.”
“Purely,” Gareth agreed, eyes twinkling. “Though I will say, some stories have a way of repeating themselves. When the time is right, when the hearts are ready...”
“When the meddling reaches critical mass,” Tom muttered, but there was no heat in it. Not anymore.
The wives returned with coffee and more cake, the conversation flowing easily between teasing and tenderness. Tom watched Ella fit seamlessly into their dynamic—trading recipes with Lissa, discussing gardens with Amber, sharing quiet observations with Zoey that often ended in knowing looks.
Later, as the group broke apart into smaller conversations, Gareth drew Tom aside to the study. The room smelled of old books and leather, centuries of stories preserved in its walls. Moonlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting colored shadows across shelves lined with volumes that looked older than the town itself.
“You’re good for each other,” Gareth said without preamble, pouring two fingers of scotch into cut crystal glasses that caught the light like trapped stars.
A few months ago, Tom would have bristled at the presumption. Would have pushed back against Gareth’s fatherly tone and knowing looks. Now, he just felt... peaceful. Like something that had been off-kilter for years had finally settled into place.
“She is,” he agreed simply, accepting the offered glass. “Good for me. Good for all of us, I think.”
Gareth nodded, approval clear in his expression. “Some souls are meant to find each other. Even if it takes a while. Even if they need a little... guidance.”
“Is that what you’re calling it now?”
“Would you prefer ‘meddling’? ‘Interference’? ‘Highly successful matchmaking’?”
Tom laughed, surprising them both. “How about ‘family being family’?”
Something softened in Gareth’s eyes. He clasped Tom’s shoulder, the gesture carrying centuries of meaning. “Aye, lad. That’ll do.”
Through the doorway, Tom could see Ella chatting with Lissa and Zoey, her smile lighting up the room. She belonged here, he realized. Not because of any MacGregor schemes or ancient bloodlines, but because she’d carved out her own place in their strange, wonderful family.
Just as he had.
“I don’t need your approval,” he told Gareth quietly. “But I’m glad to have it anyway.”
“Course you don’t.” Gareth’s smile was knowing, almost ancient in its wisdom. “You stopped needing our approval the moment you stopped fighting what was right in front of you.”
They rejoined the others, Tom settling back beside Ella as Liam launched into an increasingly improbable tale about his own romantic adventures in the Highlands. The whole family piled on with corrections and commentary, their voices weaving together like a familiar song. Even the house seemed to hum with contentment, creaking and settling around them like a living thing.
Tom caught Ella watching him, her eyes soft with understanding. She’d seen something shift between him and Gareth, he knew. Had witnessed his final acceptance of this bizarre, meddlesome, utterly wonderful family they’d both somehow inherited.
“Okay?” she whispered.
He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Perfect.”
And for once, he didn’t mind when Liam started humming what sounded suspiciously like a wedding march. Some things, he was learning, were worth embracing—meddlesome Scotsmen and all.
The morning sun painted the highway in gold as Tom’s truck headed west toward Seattle. Tom had arrived at Ella’s door exactly on time—early enough to beat traffic but late enough that she’d had time for a proper breakfast. When she’d teased him about his precision, he’d just smiled and opened her door, revealing a travel mug of perfectly prepared coffee waiting in the cup holder.
Now, an hour into their drive, Ella found herself noticing all the little ways he’d prepared for their journey. The playlist floating softly through the speakers was a perfect mix of her road trip favorites, including songs she’d only mentioned once in passing. A blanket was folded in the backseat, along with a cooler she’d discovered contained her favorite snacks. He’d even remembered she preferred the aisle seat when they’d booked their hotel rooms.
“You remembered everything,” she said, taking another sip of coffee that still somehow hadn’t gone cold. “The cream and sugar in my coffee, the music...”
“I pay attention.” Tom’s hands were steady on the wheel, but she noticed how his ears reddened slightly. “Though I had inside help. Zoey might have mentioned a few things. And Liam had opinions about the playlist.”
“Liam has opinions about everything.”
“True. Though he did suggest bagpipe music for ambiance.”
Ella laughed, the sound mixing with the guitars on the radio. “And you vetoed that?”
“Immediately and with extreme prejudice.”
She reached over, touching his hand where it rested on the gear shift. He immediately turned his palm up, interlacing their fingers with a naturalness that still amazed her.
“I made dinner reservations,” he continued, his thumb tracing absent patterns on her skin. “This little Italian place near Pike Place Market. And I thought tomorrow we could do some sightseeing before the veterans’ meeting. If you want.”
“I’d love that.” She watched his profile, noting how his jaw relaxed slightly at her words. “You know, for someone who claims to be bad at relationships, you’re pretty good at this.”
The landscape changed around them, forests giving way to rolling hills. Tom handled the truck with the same quiet competence he brought to everything, but she could sense him working up to something.
“It’s different with you,” he said finally. “Easier. Like...” he paused, searching for words. “Like I don’t have to pretend to be more put together than I am.”
“I know what you mean.” She did—that feeling of being able to just be, without performing or protecting herself. “It’s nice not having to be strong all the time.”
They crossed a bridge, sunlight dancing on water below. Tom’s hand tightened briefly on hers before he spoke again.
“Sometimes I wonder if I could ever be... normal enough. For a real life. A home.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “The things I’ve seen, the way I am with security and checking exits and never quite relaxing...”
“Tom...”
“I know it’s early to think about that stuff,” he added quickly. “I just... I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who could make a home. But with you...” He swallowed hard. “With you, it feels possible.”
Ella’s throat tightened with emotion. This man who faced down danger without flinching, who protected others without hesitation, was trusting her with his deepest fears. The courage that took stole her breath.
“You already make a home,” she said. “Every time you fix something for someone in town. Every time you check the school’s security one extra time. Every time you notice someone needs help before they ask.” She squeezed his hand. “A home isn’t just four walls, Tom. It’s how you make people feel safe.”
He brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “When did you get so wise?”
“Must be all that time spent with the MacGregors.”
His laugh broke the tension, though their hands remained linked. Outside, early morning fog lifted from the valleys, revealing glimpses of distant mountains. Seattle’s skyline appeared on the horizon, but Ella was more focused on how natural this felt—sharing fears and hopes, supporting each other, building something real one small moment at a time.
“For what it’s worth,” she said after a while, “I think you’re exactly the kind of guy who makes a perfect home. Even if you don’t see it yet.”
His smile was soft, vulnerable in a way that made her want to protect his heart as fiercely as he protected everyone else’s. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She grinned, lightening the moment. “Though we might need to work on your taste in throw pillows.”
“What’s wrong with my throw pillows?”
“Tom. They’re camouflage.”
“They’re practical!”
Their laughter filled the truck, and Ella marveled at how they could move so naturally between deep emotion and playful banter. How safe she felt with him, even when discussing things that should have terrified them both.
“I brought snickerdoodles,” he said after a moment. “Your favorite for road trips.”
“How did you?—”
“Bella might have texted me a few tips.”
“You and Bella are texting now?”
“She has strong opinions about proper road trip snack protocol.”
Ella shook her head, smiling. Maybe that was what building a home together really meant—creating a space where both laughter and vulnerability could live side by side, where fears could be voiced without judgment, where love could grow at its own pace.
Even if that space was currently a truck on the highway to Seattle, with questionable throw pillows waiting at home and an entire town’s worth of people invested in their happiness.
She wouldn’t have it any other way.