Chapter 30
The house smelled like cinnamon, bread, roasted meats and pine, the kind of scent that wrapped around you and whispered home even when parts of you still didn’t feel like you belonged anywhere.
Laughter drifted from the kitchen, Jackson’s voice carrying over everyone else’s, high-pitched and giddy as he rattled off his wish list to anyone who’d listen.
It was his first Christmas since everything changed, since Clara moved out of the house, and somehow, he was still the happiest person in the room.
They’d been taking it one day at a time.
Couples therapy. Honest conversations. Working toward selling the house that Mason said they had to have, and finding something that actually fit within their means.
Some days, when Clara talked about it, there was a hint of hope in her voice again.
Other days, the exhaustion weighed her down so heavily that it was all she could do to get out of bed.
But today… Today was for Jackson.
The air outside bit at my cheeks, the cold sharp enough to sting, but I barely noticed.
Jackson was darting around the yard, cheeks flushed, his little boots sinking deep into the snowdrifts as he tried to pack together the perfect snowball.
His laughter rang out, bright, unburdened, and for a moment, I just stood there, watching him, letting the sound soak into me. God, I loved this kid.
“You’re cheating!” I called, crouching to scoop up my own handful of snow.
Jackson spun around, his grin mischievous and wide. “You’re just slow, Aunt Cass!”
“Slow?” I arched a brow, packing the snow tight between my gloves. “I’ll show you slow.”
He shrieked when I lunged, pelting him lightly with my snowball. He returned fire immediately, his giggles carrying through the crisp winter air. For the first time in months, the ache in my chest eased, even if only by a fraction.
I glanced back toward the house and caught sight of Clara standing on the porch, her arms wrapped around herself, a soft smile on her lips as she watched us. There were new lines of exhaustion around her eyes, shadows she’d been carrying for months, but right now she was smiling.
That felt like a miracle.
Seeing her laugh again, even just a little, made my throat tighten unexpectedly. And Jackson, blissfully oblivious to the chaos, deserved every second of this joy that we could give him this Christmas.
I bent down to help him roll the middle section of his snowman, but the prickling on the back of my neck made me pause.
I looked up to find Brody.
He was standing in the bay window of my parents' house, watching me.
Heat crawled up my neck under the weight of it.
“Come on, Aunt Cass!” Jackson tugged my coat sleeve, snapping me back. “Race me inside!”
“Inside?” I asked, forcing brightness into my voice.
“Presents... and cookies,” he whispered, eyes wide like he was sharing something secret, something sacred.
I laughed softly, brushing snow from my coat as we headed toward the back door, my chest buzzing in a way I didn’t want to name yet.
Before greeting anyone, I slipped upstairs quickly, pulling the outfit I’d picked days ago from the back of my closet. A soft-fitted cream sweater, a deep emerald green skirt, simple, understated, but… pretty. It felt strange to want to feel pretty again.
Lately, I’d been journaling, like Mom suggested.
At first, I’d hated it. Words felt too heavy, too messy to get down.
But page after page, something inside me had started to loosen.
And therapy… well, that was different. Harder.
But after throwing it in Clara and Mason’s faces that they had to do it if they wanted to move forward, I couldn’t exactly avoid it myself.
I had one appointment so far, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it.
When I came back down, Judy Palmer swept me into one of her rib-cracking hugs the moment I hit the bottom step.
“Cassidy Morgan, you gorgeous girl,” she gushed, kissing my cheek. “Every time I see you, I swear you’ve grown more stunning.”
I laughed, awkward but touched, hugging her back tightly.
The house was buzzing, full of life, two families, one table, plates clinking, wine and whiskey flowing, the kind of holiday chaos that used to feel like background noise but now felt precious.
Like this holiday was special, hard-earned.
I caught myself smiling more than once, almost forgetting for a few moments how complicated everything was.
After dinner, as everyone lingered with drinks in hand, Brody drifted over, leaning against the edge of the table like he had all the time in the world.
“You got plans for New Year’s Day?” he asked casually, but his tone carried weight, like it mattered more than he wanted me to realize.
I arched a brow. “Besides sleeping off whatever chaos Adam’s planning for New Year’s Eve?”
He smirked. “Yeah, besides that.”
I shook my head. “No plans.”
His gaze held mine steady. “Good. Keep it that way.” He hesitated, just long enough to make my heart stutter. “Give me the day?”
My throat went dry, my heart racing, but I nodded anyway, the words stuck somewhere behind my ribs.
“Good,” he said softly, like it meant something more than he was saying, before Chase called him over from across the room.
Just like that, I was pulled back into the noise and warmth, someone pressing a glass of champagne into my hand, Adam shouting about dessert, Clara laughing beside me.
Mason was sitting on the couch, looking like he was soaking in every moment, like a man who knew how close he was to losing everything.
Clara and I made our way to the couch, each sitting on either side of Mason.
We had grown closer; I didn't know if it was the time we spent working together cleaning up his business or if it was because he was there that day.
But it didn't matter. I tucked my knees up under my skirt and scooted into my brother-in-law's side, while Clara draped an arm around his neck, playing with some of my loose waves on the back of the couch.
I was surrounded by the people I loved most in the world, and for the first time in a long time, my heart actually felt happy.
Conversation flowed easily. They asked about my writing, what was next. I told them about the two contracted books, how I’d finish those, and then… maybe, finally, I’d write something for me.
Brody was still close enough that I could feel him there, even without looking.
I snorted out a laugh at something outrageous Adam said, and I realized... At that moment, I didn’t feel like I was splintering apart. I felt like I was healing.