Chapter 19
Nineteen
Tarryn
The house smells like Christmas, full of roast and spice and something sweet that’s been in the oven all afternoon.
The fire crackles in the hearth, and someone has the football game on, even though no one is really watching.
Half my family is in the living room shouting at plays they don’t understand while the other half crowds around the dining table playing cards and arguing over who’s cheating.
It’s noisy and warm and perfect.
I stand in the doorway for a second, soaking it in, until Declan steps in beside me and shrugs off his coat.
The cold air that follows him disappears almost instantly into the heat of the room.
My heart does that little flip I keep pretending doesn’t happen every time he’s close.
It’s been nearly three years since we were all in the same room, three years since he’s been part of this chaos, and somehow, it feels both strange and completely right.
Greyson spots us first and grins. “Well, look who decided to show up.”
“Easy,” I warn, already bracing.
Beckett joins in before I can stop him. “Declan Conner. Thought you’d finally figured out how to run faster than fire, not back into it.” He grins so I know he’s teasing.
Declan laughs and shakes his hand. “Only when your sister’s on the other side.”
That earns a round of oohs from my brothers. I groan. “Don’t encourage him.”
Kingston leans over the back of the couch with a smirk. “We just want to make sure you’re not about to torch her heart again, man.”
“Kingston,” I snap, but Sadie crosses her arms from where she sits on the arm of a chair. “That’s enough,” she says, giving them all the look that could silence a stadium. “You three have spent the whole year being nosy about everyone else’s love lives. Let her breathe.”
Beckett lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Breathing. Totally supportive breathing.”
Greyson snorts. “Yeah, supportive like a boa constrictor.”
Laughter ripples through the room. Declan squeezes my hand, and I can’t help but smile. The noise, the teasing, the smell of cinnamon and pine—it’s all a mess, but it’s my mess. And tonight, for the first time in years, it feels whole again.
The front door swings open just as Mom calls everyone toward the dining room. A rush of cold air sweeps through, followed by Ryker’s voice. “Sorry, sorry, I come bearing apologies and frozen toes.”
Ginny trails behind him, cheeks pink from the cold and her coat dusted with snow. “Grandma’s Christmas lasted three hours longer than planned. I think she was testing our loyalty.”
Laughter fills the entryway.
“Perfect timing,” Mom says, waving them in. “Dinner’s ready.”
Ryker steps closer to the fire, rubbing his hands together. “You have no idea how good this house smells after sitting through Evelyn’s dinner. It’s like stepping out of a storm into paradise.”
Beckett grins. “So, the stories are true.”
Ryker groans. “Worse. Picture a royal summit hosted by the devil herself. Every time I said something, she made that face. You know, the one that says she’s judging the very air you breathe.”
Ginny drops her coat on a chair and shakes her head. “He’s not exaggerating. I heard every word from the bathroom. It’s worse than he’s letting on. There were color-coded seating charts and a roast that could double as a weapon.”
That sends everyone into hysterics. Mom’s snort-laugh earns her an elbow from Dad, who’s laughing too hard to stop her.
Ginny lifts her glass once she’s seated. “I’ll take Paradise chaos over that any day.”
“Welcome home,” I tell her, smiling, and she clinks my glass in return.
The laughter trails with us to the table, softening into easy conversation and the sound of plates being set.
The long dining table looks like something out of a magazine, white linen and flickering candles and crystal glasses catching the light.
Mom has gone all out this year. Even though the staff from The Grill handled the cooking, she’s been hovering since morning, rearranging napkins and polishing silver until everything gleams.
Dad raises his glass from the head of the table. “Best decision I ever made was hiring The Grill to cater this. The food smells incredible.”
“You mean I hired them,” Mom corrects, reaching across to straighten a fork that doesn’t need straightening. “And they’re doing a wonderful job.”
The servers circulate, carrying trays heavy with roast beef, rosemary potatoes, and honeyed carrots. Then there’s Kathy. I recognize her immediately, the same bright hair and the same smile that used to make half the guys in school stupid.
She leans a little too close while setting Declan’s plate down. “Declan Conner. Haven’t seen you since graduation. You look exactly the same.”
“Hey, Kathy,” he says politely, keeping it short.
I focus on cutting my bread, probably too forcefully. Of course Kathy’s here. Of course she remembers him.
Ryker catches my expression and smirks. “Jealous, Tarryn?”
I jab at my roast. “No. Just trying to remember if I ordered extra salt.”
Ginny snorts. Declan hides his grin behind his glass. Kathy finally moves on, thankfully, to bat her lashes at Theo, Greyson’s son.
Mom pours wine around the table, her bracelet clinking against the bottle. “Sadie, Trinity, would you like an Italian soda?”
They both shake their heads. Trinity gives a secret little smile and Sadie just groans. “Smells good though.”
Conversation hums. The staff moves with quiet efficiency. Dad leans back, clearly content. “We should have The Grill run every family dinner.”
Mom shoots him a glare. “Don’t even joke about that.”
He chuckles and reaches for her hand. “It’s nice not having you cook all day.”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she says, and that’s explanation enough.
I glance around the table at my brothers and their partners, Elise and her father, Declan beside me. For a moment everything feels right. Warm. Full.
Dinner settles into its rhythm, the clink of cutlery and overlapping chatter.
Beckett earns a round of admiration for mentioning the tasting room renovations, Greyson another for talking about the hospital expansion.
Kingston sits quietly at the far end with Elise and her father, Mitch, who is deep in discussion with Dad about harvest yields and frost damage.
Kingston nods, polite but distant, his gaze occasionally drifting to the window where snow falls steady and silent.
My heart squeezes for him. This season always hits hardest since his wife left.
Elise leans toward him, saying something that draws a faint smile, and I silently thank her for it.
The table is a web of conversation, laughter, and love. I catch Declan watching me between bites, his thumb brushing mine under the table. “You okay?” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” I whisper back. “Just taking it in.”
Between courses, Trinity clears her throat. The entire table stills. “I have something to share,” she says, cheeks pink. Greyson grins beside her. “You’re really doing it?” She nods. “We’re expecting. Baby Paradise, due in June.”
For a heartbeat, there’s silence and then chaos.
Mom gasps, leaping up to hug her. “Another grandbaby.”
Dad laughs, beaming. “Three weeks after Sadie?”
Beckett squeezes Sadie’s hand. “That’s right. We’ll be exhausted together.”
Sadie groans good-naturedly. “If I survive the smell of Christmas spices.”
Laughter rolls around the table. Trinity hugs her, promising shared misery and matching baby blankets.
Mom dabs her eyes, radiant. “This family just keeps growing.”
I glance down the line of faces, Greyson and Trinity glowing, Beckett and Sadie smiling, Ryker whispering something to Ginny that makes her laugh, Kingston and Elise quietly content. Declan squeezes my knee under the table and warmth blooms in my chest.
Dad raises his glass. “To family, may it always be this full.”
I lift mine and smile at Declan. Full doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Dessert arrives in a parade of plates, apple crumble, mini cheesecakes, chocolate mousse. Coffee follows, and Ryker leans back, cup in hand. “So,” he says, “any word on the fire investigation?”
The air shifts. Declan shakes his head. “Nothing official yet. Still waiting on lab results.”
Greyson frowns. “That’s strange.”
Beckett sets down his spoon. “You think it’s Zach?”
Greyson adds, “The timing fits. The deliveries, the irrigation files, too neat to be coincidence.”
Mom’s voice cuts softly through it all. “Has anyone seen him since that night?”
The room stills. No one answers. Finally, Dad exhales and lifts the wine bottle. “Let’s not darken the night. We’ll deal with it when we know more.” He tops off glasses and forces a smile. “Tonight’s for family.”
It works almost. The tension eases, but underneath the laughter, worry lingers like smoke.
Candles burn low, and the laughter softens to a content hum. Mom glows, talking about staying close this spring instead of traveling. Dad grins. “We’re going to South Africa, Vicky, even if I have to drag you there by the hair.” She rolls her eyes, laughing. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you married me,” he says, triumphant.
The table erupts again. I laugh until my cheeks hurt. The warmth of it all, the noise and love, wraps around me like a blanket. For a second, everything feels safe.
Declan checks his watch and sighs. “I’ve got to head out. Night shift at the station.”
Mom frowns. “Even on Christmas Eve?”
He nods. “Fires don’t take holidays.”
Dad shakes his hand firmly. “Be careful, son.”
When Declan turns to me, the rest of the room fades. “Walk me out?”
I grab my sweater and follow him into the cold. Snow drifts in lazy spirals, the vineyard bathed in silver under the floodlights. His breath fogs the air as he turns to me.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
“Yeah. Just full.”
He smiles. “You handled them like a pro.”
“They were tame,” I tease.
He steps closer. “That’s because they like me now.”
“Don’t push it.”
His eyes glint in the pale light. “You sure you want me to go?”
“You have to,” I whisper, though my pulse quickens.
He brushes his thumb along my jaw. “Yeah, but I don’t want to.”
I reach for him, tugging him down by the front of his coat. His lips find mine, warm and hungry, tasting of coffee and winter. The kiss deepens, breathless and slow, his hands sliding into my hair, my heart hammering against his chest.
When we finally pull apart, the world feels hushed.
“I should go,” he says.
“Yeah,” I whisper, not letting go.
He smiles. “Merry Christmas, Tarryn.”
“Merry Christmas, Declan.”
He gives my hand one last squeeze and climbs into his truck. Headlights cut through the snow as he drives away, and I stand there watching until the taillights disappear down the long, winding road.
The cold creeps back in, but it feels right. Alive. I pull my sweater tighter and look up at the house glowing with light and laughter. For the first time in a long time, I believe in second chances. And this one feels like the start of something worth keeping.