Chapter 17 VINCE #2
“That’s a good man there,” Sammy says.
I realize I’m staring at Fletcher and blush. “Yeah. He is.”
I sip the drink and let the cool liquid sink in.
My eyes scan the crowd, the room, the endless red, gold, and white decor. The music reaches me in between beats of conversation, soft and calming.
It’s busy, but not chaotic. Exactly as Fletcher said.
I find myself easing into it. Enjoying it.
Fletcher finds me again when it’s time to eat. We sit at the end, and I notice he saved me the chair closest to the exit, like he knows I might need to step away for a few minutes. He’s always aware, always thoughtful.
Georgie eyes us curiously when Fletcher puts an arm around the back of my chair, leaning in.
“Sarah made pie, so leave room for dessert,” he says.
I chuckle. That has to be the fifth time he’s mentioned pie.
The food is delicious—smoked turkey, glazed ham, and more side dishes than I can count. I can barely finish my mulled cider.
Fletcher’s hand lands on my knee under the table, yet his attention is on a conversation in the opposite direction. I cover it with mine and gently squeeze. He immediately turns, brows pulled together. His blank expression tells me he doesn’t know he’d reached for me.
I just chuckle and shake my head subtly.
He leans in. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Perfect. Stuffed more than the turkey was, I think.”
He laughs quietly. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining. Believe me.”
Fletcher doesn’t seem to notice the way everyone is watching us—all hidden smiles and knowing eyes. I’d expected it, of course, being the odd guy out, but I’m surprised how little it bothers me. I like these people.
I like them so much.
As soon as the dining table is cleared, someone pulls out the cards. Cool air drifts in from behind me, as someone props the door open. I instantly breathe easier.
I snag one of the spare decks, shuffling and spreading them across the table. To Tegan, I say, “Pick a card.”
He does.
“Memorize it, then hide it in the deck somewhere.”
He obeys.
I ask him to cut it twice, then shuffle again, without taking my eyes off him. I flip the cards away from me one at a time. On the thirteenth card, I stop, holding it up. “Is this it?”
Tegan’s eyes get huge. “What! How did—”
“Shhh. A magician never reveals their secrets.”
“Me next!” Tanner says.
I do a different trick for him, earning an even bigger reaction. I go around the table until I get to Fletcher. Of course, he draws the Ace of Hearts. As if the universe needs to make things any clearer.
He bumps my shoulder when I reveal his card. “Show off.”
Ryan deals everyone in for Spades, and the game shifts.
My heart soars. I’ve always been good at this—cards, banter, and quick math. The fog lifts just enough for me to keep up, and of course I trash-talk Tanner when he overbids. He groans dramatically when I sweep the trick.
Laughter erupts around me—and from me. It’s so easy, so relaxed, that I forget to monitor my body.
Which is why it hits hard when I get up. I nearly crash into the wall trying to steady myself.
Ryan leaps from his chair, grabbing my arm. “You okay?”
Shame floods me and heat pours over me like someone blasted a damn heater on me. I avoid his gaze—avoid everyone’s gaze—and reach for the back door. “Yeah. Just need some air.”
Outside, the back porch is quiet and the cool early winter air is just what I need. It shocks my system back into place. I grip the railing and breathe deeply.
I expect Fletcher to follow me, but he doesn’t. His gaze stays with me through the window, but his trust in that moment lands deep. It’s like he knows I’m unsteady, but not unstable. He’s learned the difference.
I give him a small smile and turn away. Does he know what his trust means to me? How it relieves the burden without even trying? He doesn’t hover, doesn’t suffocate. He’s just there if I need him.
It’s made it impossible not to fall in love with him.
Fuck, I really am in love with him.
Ten minutes pass, then a door creaks behind me. I look over, expecting Fletcher, but it’s Sarah.
She pulls a red cardigan tight around her shoulders. “Mind if I stay with you for a minute?”
“Not at all.” I straighten my shoulders, suddenly self-conscious.
She leans against the railing beside me, watching the clouds drift in front of the moon. “I know this can be… a lot,” she says finally, “but I hope you know how great it is that you’re here.” She glances over then, eyes kind and observant. “Fletcher really cares about you.”
I shove a hand into my pocket, unsure how to reply.
“He hasn’t brought anyone to family dinners since our divorce. Has he told you that?”
Something twists low in my chest. “He kinda mentioned it, yeah.” Hinted at it is more accurate. But the meaning was clear. This was a big deal to him.
And to me.
Being invited to someone’s family dinner is not something I take lightly.
“I’m glad to be here,” I say honestly.
She smiles. “How are you feeling, anyway? Since the hospital, I mean.”
I run a hand over my neck. “Today’s been harder than I wanted it to be, but overall pretty good.”
She smiles. “You could’ve fooled me. Looked like you’ve been having a great time.”
“I have been.”
“Good.”
The door opens again, and Fletcher steps out, concern flickering when he sees us talking.
“And that’s my cue to go,” Sarah teases. She touches my arm gently before heading back inside.
Fletcher faces me. “You okay? Thought you’d be back in by now.”
“Yeah. Just needed a minute.”
He doesn’t reach for me, almost like he knows I’m overwhelmed.
It tugs at something uncomfortable. All night I’ve watched him dance around me, do things for me without thinking—moving chairs, offering me water, giving me space.
What happens when those actions stop being instinct and start feeling like obligation?
A low burning ache fills me, a quiet sadness blurring the edges of the night. The bright white of the outside Christmas lights reflects in his eyes. He’s so damn beautiful.
Fletcher leans against the opposite wall. “I think you blew Tanner’s mind with the magic tricks.”
I smile softly.
“Learn that in the army or something?”
“My dad, actually.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “You never told me what happened to them. Your family, I mean.”
“Dad died before I got out of the army. Mom died of cancer when I was twenty.”
“And your brother?”
I swallow hard. “He’s still in the army. I think. I don’t know. We lost touch.”
“I’m sorry.” He sighs. “That’s a bitter pain I know well. Dare and I lost our parents eight years ago. My dad had a heart attack, and Mom got pneumonia the following winter. It was hell. Georgie still misses them.” He glances back at the house. “But I’m glad she has Ryan’s and Sarah’s families.”
“They’re good people.”
He smiles warmly, reaching for my hand, and we go back inside together. The heat swells again, but it doesn’t crush me this time.
When Ryan offers pie, I decline, but Fletcher nods immediately.
I wrap an arm around the back of his chair and lean in. “Is there any wine?”
He perks up. “Yeah. Be right back.”
As he walks away, I realize something that scares me more than my MS symptoms ever could.
I want this.
All of this.
The tinsel-covered holiday. The family. The overwhelming warmth that never leaves.
And more than that, I want it with Fletcher.
I’ve never cared about holidays before. Any of them. But today has changed that for me. Today has shown me what I’ve been missing—and all I want to do is reach for it.
But wanting it is easy.
Keeping it—without it turning into something Fletcher needs to manage—that’s the real challenge. I don’t know how to promise I won’t become a burden, especially when I already feel like one.
I rub a hand over my leg, ignoring the dull ache coming from somewhere deeper within. A few more weeks. That’s all I need. Then I’ll get answers and know exactly what my future will look like.
Then I can make a plan.
One that doesn’t cost him more than he ever agreed to give.