Chapter 6 Anita
Anita
Sunlight streams through my window on Christmas Eve.
I get up early and finish the last of the Christmas preparations.
The house already smells like cinnamon and pine from yesterday's baking, but I brew coffee with a stick of cinnamon, warming pan dulce in the oven. Making the house smell like home.
I’m going to show Chance that Christmas doesn't have to be a reminder of abandonment by making new, happy memories.
Mel comes downstairs in her pajamas.
"It's Christmas Eve! Can we make cookies? And maybe watch a Christmas movie?"
I chuckle at her excitement.
"Morning," he says gruffly.
"Good morning," Chance greets us.
"Coffee's ready," I say.
He pours himself a cup while Mel chatters about her plans for the day.
"What can I help with?" he asks.
The question catches me off guard. "Do you have time?"
"I’m making time. What should I do first?"
The three of us spend the morning baking cookies, laughing, teasing each other and making a mess of the kitchen.
Then his phone rings.
Chance glances at the screen, and something in his expression shifts.
"It's Zeke," he says, stepping toward the door. "I should take this."
He goes outside, and I watch through the window as he paces the porch, his free hand raking through his hair. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he's gone rigid.
Mel notices too. "Uncle Zeke?"
I nod.
"I haven't talked to him in forever." There's hurt in her voice. "He doesn't even call on my birthday anymore."
My heart aches for her. Another person who left. Another abandonment she's had to survive.
When Chance comes back, all the color has drained from his face. The softness from this morning and the past week is gone, replaced by the closed-off expression I remember from my first days at the ranch.
"That was Zeke." His voice is hollow. "He's coming home."
This should be a good thing. Why is Chance upset?
"Uncle Zeke is coming for Christmas?"
"Not for Christmas." Chance's jaw is tight, his hands clenched at his sides. "He'll be here on the twenty-seventh."
For the rest of the day, Chance is distant. I watch him retreat into himself, brick by brick rebuilding the walls that had started to crumble.
"What’s the matter?" I ask when Mel runs upstairs to get something.
"Just need to think. Got a lot on my mind."
"Talking might help."
"I said I need to think, Anita." His voice is sharp, cutting. "Please."
So, I give him space. But it feels like he's pulling away from me again.
We make it through dinner—Christmas Eve tamales, bunuelos and all the traditional dishes I grew up with. I've poured my heart into this meal, trying to share my culture, my traditions, my love through food.
The food is delicious. I know it is. But no one's really tasting it. Mel tries to keep the conversation going, asking questions about each dish, complimenting everything. But even she can feel the tension at the table.
Chance barely eats. He pushes food around his plate, his mind clearly elsewhere. Every time I look at him, I see the fear and despair in his eyes.
After dinner, we exchange small gifts. We'd agreed to save the real presents for tomorrow morning.
The gifts Chance prepared for us are thoughtful: a warm hat for Mel, hand-knit by someone in town, and new quality leather gloves that will last for years of ranch work.
I give Mel the bracelet I made from colorful beads and charms, each one representing something about her. A horse charm, for her love of riding, a book charm because she's always reading and a heart because she's so full of love despite everything she's been through.
She throws her arms around me. "It's perfect."
Chance gets a frame Mel made herself with "Best Dad" painted on it. Inside there is a photo of the two of them smiling at the camera from two summers ago.
" I love it, sweetheart." His voice is thick with emotion.
Mel gives me a drawing she made of the three of us with the horses. It's beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. In the drawing, we're a happy family. But at the moment, something is holding us back from being happy.
After Mel goes to bed, the house falls quiet.
I should go to bed too. But I can't. I need to know what's happening.
I find Chance in the barn, just like I knew I would. He's checking on the horses, running his hands over Duke's neck, seeking comfort from the animal who's been his companion for years.
"Talk to me," I say from the doorway. "Please."
He's quiet for a long time, his hand moving over Duke's glossy coat in long, soothing strokes. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"Zeke wants to sell his half of the ranch."
I step closer, my heart pounding. "What does that mean?"
"Means I need to buy him out or we sell the whole thing." He turns to face me, and the despair in his eyes breaks my heart. "I don't have that kind of money liquid, Anita. Not without taking out loans, I might not be able to repay."
"We'll figure it out. I have some money saved up.”
He laughs bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet barn. "That's the problem, isn't it? There is no 'we.' This is my family mess. You shouldn't have to deal with this."
The words hit like a slap.
"This was always temporary, Anita. A one-year contract, remember?"
Each word is a knife to my heart. "You don't mean that. Not after everything we shared."
He won't look at me now, stares at the ground. "I let myself pretend this was something it isn't. But the reality is you came here looking for a fresh start, not to inherit my debts and fucked-up family."
Fury and hurt war in my chest, making it hard to breathe. "Stop deciding for me what I can handle."
I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself.
"This is about Jane. You’re afraid that buying out Zeke will make life on the ranch harder, and because of that, I’ll leave. So, you’re pushing me away."
"Maybe I am." His jaw clenches, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "At least I'm protecting myself and Mel."
I step closer. Touch his face and feel him tremble under my palm.
"I was eighteen when I took on financial responsibility for Grumps.
He was old and needed a lot of care. Dad wanted to sell him, but I refused to let him go.
Instead, I gave up on being a ranch hand and took a high-paying job as a secretary.
I took care of Grumps for seven years before he died.
Does that sound like someone who runs at the first sign of hard? "
He shakes his head.
“I didn’t leave my life in Garnet City to enter a relationship with just anyone. It was the connection I felt to you, Mel, and the ranch that made me choose this path. I want a fresh start with you, not anyone else. That will not change.”
I think I've broken through to him.
“Jane and I were high school sweethearts. We were in love. She wanted to marry me. But her feelings changed.”
He sighs.
"Please get out of the barn. I need to be alone."
"Chance, please—"
He storms out, heads away from the barn and house.
I stumble back to the house, wiping the tears streaming down my face. I’ve never seen him this completely closed off. It's like the man who held me so tenderly has disappeared.
I curl up on my bed and clutch a pillow to my chest.
He's choosing fear over love. And I don't know how to fight for someone who won't fight for himself.
Chance
It’s early Christmas morning. I’ve been thinking about Anita the whole night. Knowing she’s hurting and worse, that I gave her that pain, is killing me.
The thought of her leaving terrifies me. I want to see her every day, riding Honey, cooking breakfast, chatting with Mel and lying sated in my bed.
I love her.
God help me, I'm desperately in love with Anita. Have been since the moment she stepped out of that taxi with her suitcase full of Christmas decorations and hope in her eyes.
My legs give out, and I sink into a chair, my head in my hands. The kitchen is too quiet. Like it had been for years before she arrived.
I glance at the garland draped over the doorway, the nativity scene on the side table with the angel on top and the stockings hanging from the mantle, including the one Anita made for herself with careful stitches.
The scent of cinnamon lingers in the air.
Anita’s love is everywhere on this ranch, in me and in Mel.
In return for the love she gave us, she’s getting rejection and pain. Not because I don’t love her back; I’m terrified of the heartache I’d suffer if she left me.
I crash out of my chair.
This isn’t me.
I’ve judged Jane for abandoning Mel and me when life became hard, yet I’m doing the same thing. I am hurting Anita and forsaking our relationship because being together while fearing she’ll leave is something I find hard.
Mom used to say that fear makes us stupid. It leads us to choose the wrong things, protect the wrong parts of ourselves. I've been so afraid of the pain of losing that I forgot there are no guarantees in life.
But I can choose, despite my fear and the difficulties ahead, to stay in this relationship Anita and I have built.
I can choose to make her, Mel and me happy, each day at a time.
And as I gaze at the signs of Anita’s love, I realize my fear of losing her now is greater than my fear of her possibly abandoning Mel and me one day.
The sound of Anita's soothing voice breaks through my thoughts. She's upstairs talking to Mel, and although I can’t make out the words, I can hear the love in her tone.
I rush out of the kitchen. Take the stairs two at a time and knock on Mel's door.
“Come in,” Mel answers.
They are sitting on Mel’s bed. I look at my daughter.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She nods, but I can see she’s worried. I know Anita well enough to guess she wouldn’t scare the girl with our conversation from last night, but Mel sensed things weren’t right between me and Anita since Zeke’s call.
“Anita, can we please talk?”
She looks exhausted, as if she didn’t sleep much either. She heads out of the room. I follow her downstairs and sit opposite her at the kitchen table.
"I love you. I've been in love with you since the moment you stepped out of that taxi and was too scared to admit it. You were right about that. I realized I was behaving like Jane, giving up on our relationship instead of working through it together. I’m terrified that one day you’ll leave. But I’m choosing you.”
Anita puts a hand over her mouth.
“I know pushing you away hurt you. I’m so sorry I did that. If you’re willing to forgive me, I promise to stay committed to us despite any fears I face.”
I wring my hands. Her eyes are enormous, but she stays silent. She tried so hard to make things work with me; it’s no surprise she’s reluctant to trust me.
“I’m in love with your strength, the way looks at me like I hung the moon even when I'm covered in dirt, and how you talk in Spanish to the horses. I love that you’re brave enough to take a chance on a broken cowboy and his daughter. You make me want to be a better man."
Tears spill down her cheeks.
I can’t help it. I shove my chair back and march around the table. As gently as I can, I lift her and sit with her on my lap.
“Don’t say anything. Just watch me over the next eleven months. We still have time left on our cohabitation agreement. I’m okay with however you want things to go.” I’m pleading, but I don’t know what else to do.
She wipes her tears.
“I love you, Chance.”
I must be frowning because she smooths the skin between my brows.
“Are you staying?” I hold my breath.
“I was right about you. You’re the staying kind. I’m glad you found your courage.”
She kisses me then, sweet and full of forgiveness. I pull her close, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips.
"I'm not going anywhere," she says when we break apart, and the certainty in her voice makes my chest expand with joy.