21. Kieran
TWENTY-ONE
KIERAN
Thane reached toward the nightstand and picked up a gift bag.
The movement immediately made me nervous, which felt ridiculous considering we'd agreed to buy each other presents the day before. It wasn't as though the gift was a surprise. Even so, seeing the bag in his hands suddenly made everything feel real.
"This one's yours." His smile was soft when he handed it to me.
I accepted the bag and looked down at it for a second before reaching inside. The tissue paper crinkled beneath my fingers. Then I pulled it out.
For a moment, I simply stared.
Slowly, I looked up. "You bought Mr. Maple?"
Something warm settled into Thane's expression. "You looked disappointed when you put him back."
I'd never actually told him I wanted Mr. Maple. I hadn't asked for him. I'd picked him up, held him for a few seconds, and then put him back on the table because that was what people did when something wasn't theirs. That should have been the end of it.
Yet somehow Thane had noticed anyway.
What surprised me was that he'd understood.
Out of everything happening at that fair—the lights, the music, the crowds, the dozens of booths we'd wandered through—he'd paid attention to one small moment most people probably would have forgotten five minutes later.
My fingers tightened around Mr. Maple's scarf.
For most of my life, wanting things had felt dangerous.
Foster care taught you quickly that disappointment hurt less when you kept your expectations small.
If you never expected something to belong to you, you couldn't miss it when it disappeared.
Eventually, you stopped asking. Eventually, you stopped hoping for things you weren't sure you could keep.
Looking down at the moose in my lap, I realized the gift wasn't really about Mr. Maple. It was about the fact that Thane had noticed. And somehow that meant more than I knew how to explain.
I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat and ran my thumb over Maple's crooked scarf. "Thank you."
Thane's expression softened. "You don't have to thank me."
"Yeah," I said, looking down at the moose again. "I kind of do."
There weren't enough words for what I was feeling. So I leaned over and kissed him. Long enough to say everything I couldn't seem to put into sentences. When I pulled back, his smile had returned.
"You're welcome."
My fingers tightened around Maple for another second before I set him beside me and reached toward the nightstand on my side of the bed.
The gift bag had been sitting there since the night before.
I hadn't thought much about it when I tucked it into the drawer.
At the time, I'd been more concerned about whether Thane would somehow figure out what I'd bought him before Christmas morning arrived.
Now that the moment was actually here, I found myself feeling unexpectedly nervous.
"What are you hiding over there?" Thane asked. His voice carried that familiar note of amusement that seemed to appear whenever he caught me overthinking something.
I pulled the bag from the drawer and held it against my chest for a moment. "Nothing."
"That's the least convincing thing you've ever said."
A laugh escaped me despite myself. "Considering I've known you for a week, that feels statistically unlikely."
"Trust me. I've got a good feeling about this."
I held out the bag.
Thane accepted it carefully and pulled back the tissue paper. The tiny wooden cottage fit easily in his hand. He turned it over once, studying the carved details around the windows and roof. Then his attention shifted to the tag.
First Christmas.
My stomach immediately tightened.
Suddenly, I wasn't thinking about the ornament anymore. I was thinking about the moment I'd picked it up. About why I'd bought it. About how much meaning I'd accidentally attached to a piece of painted wood.
Thane traced a thumb across the roof before lifting his gaze to mine. "You want to remember this."
It wasn't a question. The understanding in his voice made heat creep into my face.
I looked down at Mr. Maple instead of meeting his eyes right away. "Maybe." The answer came out quieter than I'd intended.
For a moment, Thane simply looked at me. Then he set the ornament carefully on the blanket beside him and reached for my hand. His fingers threaded through mine. "Thank you."
The words were soft, but they landed with surprising force.
I looked up. He wasn't smiling. "I love it, Kieran."
For a moment, I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Thane lifted my hand and pressed a kiss against my knuckles. "I'm going to hang this on my tree every year."
My breath caught slightly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
His thumb brushed across my skin. "So that next Christmas, when I hang it up, I can remind you that you were sentimental first."
Eventually, however, my stomach reminded me that sentimentality was no substitute for breakfast.
The refrigerator was stocked exactly the way the owner had promised. Eggs. Bacon. Fruit. Orange juice. Milk. There was pancake mix in one of the cupboards and enough supplies to keep two people comfortably fed for several days.
"You realize this is entirely too much food."
Thane glanced over his shoulder. "You say that now."
"I'll say it later, too."
For a while, we moved around the kitchen together with an ease that still surprised me. While Thane set a frying pan on the stove and started on breakfast, I found a saucepan and a couple of packets of hot chocolate. The scent of bacon soon joined the smell of melting chocolate.
"Pretty sure this is what Christmas is supposed to smell like," I said.
"Give me another ten minutes, and it'll smell even better."
I laughed and leaned against the counter while he flipped a strip of bacon.
The scene shouldn't have affected me as much as it did.
There was nothing remarkable about it. Just Thane standing in a cozy kitchen on Christmas morning, cooking breakfast. Maybe that was the problem.
It felt comfortable. Dangerously comfortable.
"You're staring." Thane never looked away from the stove.
"That's creepy."
A grin tugged at his mouth. "You've been standing there watching me for at least thirty seconds."
"You don't know that."
"I absolutely know that."
"That's not how eyes work."
"It is when somebody is staring holes through the side of your face."
A laugh escaped me despite myself.
A few minutes later, we carried everything to the table and settled in. The food was good. The company was better.
Long after the plates were empty, we remained at the table drinking hot chocolate while talking about nothing and everything. Movies. School. Hockey. Christmas traditions. Things we remembered. Things we wished we'd experienced.
Eventually, Thane gathered our dishes and carried them to the sink. Then he turned toward me with a look that immediately made me suspicious.
"What?"
The grin that appeared on his face did absolutely nothing to reassure me. "You've been inside all morning."
I narrowed my eyes. "It's snowing."
"Exactly."
The answer should not have sounded as enthusiastic as it did. Before I could argue, Thane crossed to the coat rack by the door. A moment later, he returned carrying my coat, scarf, and gloves. My hat dangled from two fingers.
"Thane."
"You'll thank me later."
"I seriously doubt that."
He held the coat open.
I stared at him.
He stared right back.
I sighed and slid my arms into the sleeves. The satisfied look on his face should have annoyed me. Instead, I found myself fighting a smile.
"I'm perfectly capable of putting that on myself," I informed him.
"Probably."
"Probably?"
"Hold still."
Before I could object, he wrapped the scarf around my neck and adjusted it until he seemed satisfied. Then he tugged my hat down over my ears and handed me my gloves.
I took them automatically and pulled them on.
Only then did it occur to me that I'd spent the last two minutes letting Thane fuss over me. The sensible response probably should have been embarrassment. Instead, a strange warmth settled somewhere behind my ribs.
Ten minutes later, we stepped outside bundled in enough layers to survive a small ice age. Cold air immediately nipped at my nose. Fresh snow blanketed the ground, the rooftops, and the surrounding trees. The entire town looked as though somebody had shaken a snow globe and forgotten to stop.
For a moment, we simply stood there. Juniper Hollow looked different on Christmas morning. The streets were quiet. Smoke curled from chimneys. Snow drifted lazily from the branches overhead. Everything felt softer somehow.
I wandered a few steps away from the cottage and tipped my head back. Snowflakes drifted through the pale winter sunlight. Somewhere nearby, a church bell rang. For a moment, I simply stood there taking it all in.
Behind me, I heard the faint crunch of boots in fresh snow. I didn't think much of it. A second later, something smacked into the back of my shoulder.
I jumped. Snow scattered across my coat. "What the—"
I spun around. Several yards away, Thane stood holding a snowball. His expression was a masterpiece of fake innocence. Unfortunately, the evidence in his hand was difficult to ignore. A snowball in his gloved hand.
"You did not."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You literally have the evidence."
He glanced down at the snowball. "That's circumstantial."
A laugh escaped him. That was his mistake. I scooped up a handful of snow and launched it at him. The snowball caught him square in the chest.
His jaw dropped. "Traitor."
"You started it."
The next few minutes dissolved into complete chaos. Snow flew in every direction. Several of my shots missed entirely. Most of Thane's somehow found their target.
At one point, I slipped, nearly landed on my ass, and only avoided disaster because Thane caught me by the arm. He was still laughing when I shoved a handful of snow down the front of his coat.
The resulting yelp echoed across the yard. "KIERAN!"
I nearly doubled over laughing. By the time the battle finally ended, both of us were breathing hard and covered in snow. My cheeks ached from smiling.
Thane reached for my hand. The gesture felt so natural that I took it. I looked down at our joined hands before lifting my gaze to his.
The smile he gave me warmed me from the inside out.
Around us, snow drifted lazily through the air. The town remained quiet. Christmas seemed to linger in every light, every rooftop, every snow-covered branch.
Standing there beside him, I found myself wishing the day would last a little longer.