Chapter 11
Eleven
Black Friday arrived gray and cold, the kind of November morning that promised fresh snow before nightfall. Ethan stood at his bedroom window with a cup of coffee, watching frost patterns spread across the glass like delicate ferns, and tried to remember the last time he’d woken up this content.
Yesterday had been … perfect. Chaotic and loud and full of laughter, nothing like the silent Thanksgivings since Sarah had been killed. And then that moment at the sink with Lydia in his arms, her admission that she wanted this, wanted him, despite everything.
He should be worried about complications.
Should be thinking about the practicalities of dating a woman who was living in his house, fleeing from a psychotic ex-husband who’d tried to murder her.
Should be concerned about the kids getting attached, about what would happen when Tom was caught, and Lydia found her own place.
Instead, he was just … happy. Stupidly, recklessly happy in a way he hadn’t been since Sarah.
A soft knock on his door made him turn. Lydia stood in the hallway, already dressed in jeans and a cream-colored sweater that made her brown eyes look warm as honey.
Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth in that way he noticed she did when she was nervous.
“Hey,” she said softly. “The kids want to know if we can go Christmas shopping today. Apparently, Black Friday is a Very Important Tradition.” She said it with capital letters, smiling. “Rosie’s very insistent.”
“Christmas shopping,” Ethan repeated, his mind already working through logistics.
Pigeon Forge would be packed. Tourists and locals alike descending on the outlet malls for deals.
Crowds meant safety in numbers, but also meant it would be harder to spot threats.
“You sure? It’s going to be crazy out there. ”
“I know.” Lydia’s smile faded slightly. “But the kids … they’ve lost so much. I want to give them something normal. Something that doesn’t involve being scared or hiding or—” She stopped, took a breath. “I want to give them Christmas.”
Ethan set down his coffee and crossed the room, unable to resist the pull of her. “Then we’ll give them Christmas,” he said, cupping her face and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Pigeon Forge it is. But we’re taking my truck, and we’re staying together. No splitting up.”
Relief flooded her expression. “Thank you. I will pay you back, I swear.”
“Stop thanking me,” Ethan murmured, then kissed her properly because he could, because she’d said she wanted this, and he was done pretending he didn’t.
She melted into him with a small sound of contentment, her hands fisting in his shirt, and for a moment the world narrowed to just this.
Her warmth, her softness, the way she kissed him like he was something precious.
“Ewwww!” Rosie’s voice rang out from the hallway. “They’re kissing again!”
They sprang apart like guilty teenagers. Lydia’s face flushed scarlet, and Ethan couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Rosie standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed.
“Adults are allowed to kiss,” Ethan said solemnly.
“But it’s gross,” Rosie declared. Then, brightening: “Are we going shopping?” The kiss was immediately forgotten with more important things to pay attention to.
“Yes,” Lydia said, smoothing her hair even though it was already perfect. “Go get your brother. We leave in twenty minutes.”
Rosie squealed and thundered down the hallway, shouting for Eli at a volume that suggested she thought he might be in the next county.
“So much for keeping this quiet,” Lydia murmured.
“Kids always know,” Ethan said, threading his fingers through hers. “My niece figured out my sister was dating her now-husband before anyone else did. They’re perceptive.”
“Your niece?”
“I suppose not quite. Sarah’s sister’s kid,” Ethan said, and was surprised to find it didn’t hurt as much to say her name. “Emma. She’s twelve now. Lives in Knoxville with her mom and stepdad.”
Lydia squeezed his hand. “Do you see them often?”
“Not as much as I should.” Ethan looked down at their joined hands. “After Sarah died, it was … hard. Being around her family. They were grieving too, and I couldn’t—” He stopped, swallowed. “I pulled away. It was easier than facing it every day.”
“Maybe you could invite them for Christmas,” Lydia suggested quietly. “If you wanted. The kids would love having other kids around.”
The casual way she said it, like she’d be here for Christmas, like this was a future they were building together, made Ethan’s chest tight in the best possible way.
“Maybe I will,” he said.
Twenty minutes later, they were piling into Ethan’s truck.
Lydia in the passenger seat, the kids buckled into the back with a level of excitement that suggested they’d never been shopping before.
Rosie was practically vibrating, talking a mile a minute about all the things she wanted to buy for everyone.
“And we need to get Mommy a present, but we can’t tell her what it is because it’s a surprise,” she stage-whispered to Eli, who nodded seriously.
“And something for Mr. Cole,” Eli added. “Because he let us stay here.”
“And Mr. Caleb! And Mrs. Figgs!” Rosie’s list was apparently endless.
Ethan met Lydia’s eyes and saw his own emotions reflected there. Joy and grief tangled together, grateful for these kids’ resilience even as they mourned everything they’d lost.
The drive to Pigeon Forge took forty minutes through winding mountain roads that were already getting slick with ice.
Ethan drove carefully, his paramedic’s training making him hyperaware of road conditions and other drivers.
The radio played Christmas music that had Rosie singing along off-key and Lydia laughing.
Pigeon Forge was exactly as chaotic as Ethan had predicted.
The outlet malls were packed, parking lots overflowing with cars sporting license plates from a dozen different states.
They found a spot near the back of the lot, and Ethan made sure the kids stayed close as they navigated through the crowds.
The shopping itself was an adventure. Rosie wanted to look at everything, dragging them from store to store with the single-minded determination of a six-year-old on a mission.
Eli was more reserved but clearly enjoying himself, especially when they hit a sporting goods store, and he spent twenty minutes examining every baseball glove like he was preparing to write a dissertation.
It was in a small toy store, tucked between a candy shop and a bookstore, that they found her.
A plush bunny with floppy ears and soft gray fur, sitting on a shelf like she’d been waiting for them.
Rosie gasped when she saw it, her small hand reaching out tentatively like she was afraid it might disappear.
“Mommy,” she whispered. “She looks like Muffin.”
Lydia’s eyes filled with tears. The original Muffin, the stuffed bunny Rosie had slept with every night since she was two, had been lost in the fire. Ethan had heard her crying about it one night, her small voice drifting through the heating vents, breaking his heart.
“She does look like Muffin,” Lydia agreed, her voice thick. “Do you want her?”
Rosie nodded, clutching the bunny to her chest. “Can we get her?”
“Of course, baby.”
Ethan paid for the bunny, watched Rosie’s face light up like Christmas morning, and felt something in his chest crack open. This. This is what he’d been missing. Not just having people in his house, but being part of moments like this. Small, ordinary miracles that added up to a life.
They ate lunch at a diner that served burgers the size of their heads and milkshakes that had Rosie bouncing off the walls with sugar.
Eli told Ethan about his favorite baseball player with the kind of detailed statistics that suggested he’d memorized the entire roster.
Lydia watched them both with soft eyes, and every time Ethan looked at her, she was already looking at him.
By the time they loaded back into the truck, bags piled in the back and kids exhausted but happy, the afternoon sun was already thinking about setting. Ethan started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, joining the stream of traffic heading back toward Willow Glen.
That’s when he noticed the car.
A dark sedan, maybe ten years old, staying three cars back but matching every turn Ethan made. At first, he told himself he was being paranoid. This was the main route back from Pigeon Forge, of course, other people would be taking it.
But then he remembered seeing that same car in the outlet mall parking lot. And again outside the diner.
Ethan’s hands tightened on the wheel. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, memorizing details. Male driver, couldn’t make out features from this distance. Staying back just far enough to maintain plausible deniability.
“Ethan?” Lydia had noticed his tension. “What’s wrong?”
“Probably nothing,” he said, keeping his voice casual for the kids’ sake. “Just being careful.”
But Lydia knew him well enough now to read between the lines. Her face went pale, and her hand found her phone.
“Don’t call yet,” Ethan murmured. “Let me see if I can lose him first.”
At the next intersection, instead of continuing straight toward Willow Glen, Ethan turned right onto a side road that would take them the long way around. The sedan hesitated for just a moment, long enough to confirm Ethan’s suspicions, then turned on the blinkers and followed.
“Buckle up tight, guys,” Ethan called to the back seat, keeping his voice cheerful. “We’re taking the scenic route.”
“Why?” Eli asked, too smart for his own good.
“Because I feel like it,” Ethan said, and took the next turn faster than he should have.