Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Saint
Three minutes to three.
I stood in Mom’s kitchen and stared at the clock on the microwave like it had personally offended me.
The house was warm with the oven running and every burner on the stove occupied by something that smelled like Christmas.
Ham. Brown sugar. Pineapple. Something buttery and sweet baking in the oven below.
The kind of smells that usually wrapped around me and loosened my shoulders without me even noticing.
Today, they just made me restless.
Mom was at the stove with thick oven mitts on her hands, easing the ham out as if it were a sacred ritual. Steam rolled up and fogged her glasses. She pushed them up on top of her head and leaned back to admire her work.
“Well,” she said, satisfied. “That’ll do.”
I checked my phone again even though I knew there wouldn’t be anything new.
Nothing.
Mom glanced over her shoulder. “Is she here?”
I didn’t bother pretending. “No.”
Mom’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Then why are you still standing in my kitchen?”
I exhaled slowly. “Because I don’t know if I should just show up again.”
Mom snorted and set the pan down. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
She turned, crossing her arms over her chest, and looked at me like she had when I was sixteen and trying to convince her a black eye had come from “falling.”
“Saint,” she said, “you made a mistake. You owned it. You apologized. Now you don’t sit around waiting for permission to fix it.”
“I don’t want to push her,” I said.
Mom stepped closer and stopped right in front of me. “And you don’t want to lose her,” she countered.
My jaw tightened. “No.”
“Then go get your girl.”
I huffed a quiet breath. “You make it sound simple.”
Mom lifted an eyebrow. “It is simple. Not easy. But simple.”
She reached up and straightened the collar of my cut like I was still a kid headed to church. “Belle is strong. That’s why you like her. But strong doesn’t mean she doesn’t want someone who chooses her.”
“I choose her,” I said immediately.
Mom smiled then, soft and knowing. “Good. Then go tell her that.”
I grabbed my keys with my heart thudding harder now. “I’m going.”
“Good,” Mom said again and turned back to the stove. “I pushed dinner back to three thirty. Don’t be late.”
I paused at the door with my hand on the knob. “Ma?”
She glanced back. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Mom waved me off. “Just bring her back in one piece.”
I stepped outside, and the snow crunched under my boots as I walked down the front steps with my breath puffing white in front of me.
I lifted my head and then I saw her.
Belle stood on the sidewalk in front of the house, bundled in her coat, with her hair loose around her shoulders.
Snowflakes clung to the dark fabric of her sweater and melted slowly.
In her hands, she held a white bakery box, the edges smudged faintly with flour, as if it had been closed in a hurry.
I stopped dead.
For a second, I thought maybe I was imagining her. Like my brain had finally cracked under the pressure and decided to give me what I wanted.
Then our eyes met.
Something in my chest cracked open so fast it almost hurt.
“Belle,” I breathed.
She didn’t smile. Not yet. But she didn’t look angry either. She looked… resolved.
“I was just about to knock,” she said.
I took a step toward her without thinking, then forced myself to slow. I didn’t want to rush her. Didn’t want to crowd her.
“I was about to come get you,” I said quietly.
Her mouth curved just a little. “Your mom told me you would, so I wouldn’t ruin Christmas.”
I huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “She tends to do that.”
We stood there for a beat, and snow drifted down between us.
Belle shifted the box in her hands. “We should talk.”
“Yeah,” I said immediately. “We should.”
She looked down at the sidewalk, then back up at me. “I’m still mad.”
“I know,” I said.
“But I don’t think you were wrong,” she added quickly, like she needed me to hear that part too. “I think… I think you were trying to protect me.”
“I was,” I said. “But I should’ve told you first.”
She nodded. “You should have.”
I stepped closer and stopped just within arm’s reach. “I didn’t trust myself to stand by and do nothing,” I admitted. “And I should’ve trusted you enough to let you be part of the decision.”
Belle’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I don’t need you to stand in front of me,” she said softly. “I need you beside me.”
My chest tightened. “I can do that.”
She studied my face, searching, like she was making sure I meant it. “And I don’t want to owe you,” she added. “I don’t want this to be something hanging between us.”
“It’s not,” I said firmly. “I didn’t do it so you’d feel indebted. I did it because I couldn’t stand the idea of you being scared in your own life.”
Her eyes softened. “I know.”
Silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It felt… fragile. Like something new, just formed.
“I don’t want secrets,” Belle said. “Even good ones.”
“You won’t get them,” I promised. “Not from me.”
She let out a slow breath, and her shoulders eased. “I don’t want to lose myself.”
“And I don’t want to lose you,” I said. “So we figure it out. Together.”
Belle looked at me for a long second.
Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arm around my waist.
I froze for half a heartbeat, and then my arms came around her automatically to pull her close, like my body had been waiting for permission. Her forehead pressed against my chest, and I rested my chin in her hair, breathing her in.
“I missed you,” she murmured.
I closed my eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”
She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at me. “I’m coming to Christmas.”
Relief surged through me so hard it almost made my knees weak. “Good,” I said, my voice rough. “Because my mom would’ve hunted me down if you didn’t.”
Belle smiled then, real and bright. “She told me it would ruin Christmas.”
I chuckled. “She wasn’t bluffing.”
She lifted the box between us. “I brought something.”
I glanced down at it, curiosity flickering. “What’s in the box?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Gingerbread,” she said. “But I gave them a twist.”
“Of course you did,” I said, amused.
“Open it,” she urged.
I took the box carefully and lifted the lid.
Inside, nestled in parchment paper, were gingerbread men.
Only… they weren’t standing.
They were riding motorcycles.
Little iced bikes beneath them, with helmets piped on with black frosting, tiny handlebars, and wheels. Each one was detailed, ridiculous, and perfect.
I stared.
Then I laughed. The sound burst out of me before I could stop it.
“You’re kidding me,” I said.
“It’s a mix of me and you.” Belle beamed. “Gingerbread and gears.”
Something warm and fierce flooded my chest.
“That’s brilliant,” I said honestly.
I turned and saw Mom opening the front door.
“Well?” she called. “You found her, so are you going to bring her inside or are you just standing out there freezing?”
I grinned. “We’re coming in.”
Mom’s gaze dropped to the box. “What’s that?”
“Belle made gingerbread men riding motorcycles,” I said, pride thick in my voice.
Mom’s face lit up. “Oh, I love that,” she declared. “That’s perfect. It combines your two worlds.”
She waved us inside. “Get in here before the food gets cold.”
I leaned down and kissed Belle, slow and sure, right there on the sidewalk.
When we pulled apart, I rested my forehead against hers. “Merry Christmas,” I murmured.
Belle smiled. “Merry Christmas, Saint.” She leaned back, and then her eyes bugged out. “The boys!” she exclaimed. “I told them they had to wait in the truck until I knew if you were going to let us in or not.”
I handed her back the box and stepped around her. “As if I was going to tell you to leave, Belle.” I stalked to her truck, where Salt and Pepper were both looking out the window at me. Pepper was bouncing up and down, and Salt, swear to God, was smiling at me.
I opened the door, and they both sounded out like I was the best thing since processed cheese.
Pepper hit me first as his paws slammed into my chest hard enough to rock me back a step. I caught him automatically and laughed as he tried to lick my face like he hadn’t seen me in years instead of twenty-four hours.
“Alright, alright,” I muttered. “Missed you too, buddy.”
Salt came next, slower, more deliberate. He looked up at me and then pressed his head into my thigh like he was making a point.
I rested a hand on his neck and scratched behind his ears. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I know.”
“Traitors. Both of you,” Belle called from the sidewalk.
Pepper immediately abandoned me to circle her legs with his nub wagging like he was powered by pure joy. Salt stayed put, leaning against me.
I straightened and nodded toward the house. “Come on. Before Mom comes back out.”
Like she heard her name, the front door opened.
“Well?” Mom called. “Are we coming inside, or are you two planning to hold Christmas on the sidewalk?”
Belle laughed, the sound eased something tight in my chest. “We’re coming.”
Mom’s eyes landed on the dogs and lit up. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “I was worried you left them at home.”
“As if,” Belle said, offended on their behalf.
Pepper took that as his cue to sprint past us and straight up the steps like he owned the place. Salt followed at a more dignified pace, but he was just as excited to be part of Christmas.
Mom laughed and shook her head, then headed in after them. “I swear, those dogs act like they’ve been invited here their whole lives.” She paused in the doorway and looked back at us. “I’m putting the ham on the table. Doors open. Come in when you’re ready.”
She disappeared inside, leaving the door cracked just enough for warm light to spill out onto the snow-dusted porch.
Belle didn’t move.
For a second, neither did I.
She looked up at me, with her cheeks pink from the cold, and her eyes bright in that way that told me she was feeling everything all at once. Hope. Nerves. That quiet fear that came right before stepping into something that mattered.
“So,” she said softly, “are we going in?”
I didn’t answer with words.
I stepped forward, slid my hands around her waist, and pulled her into me.
Belle gasped as I kissed her.
Not careful. Not tentative. This wasn’t the kind of kiss you used to test the ground. This was the kind you gave when you already knew where you stood.
Her hands fisted in my cut, like she needed something solid to hold onto, and I felt it everywhere. The way she melted into me, the way her breath hitched, the way the world narrowed down to just us and the steady certainty between us.
The cold didn’t matter.
The past didn’t matter.
Nothing did but this.
I poured everything I hadn’t said into that kiss. The apology, the promise, the choice. That I wasn’t going anywhere. That I wasn’t trying to stand in front of her or behind her, but beside her. Always.
Belle kissed me back just as fiercely and just as sure.
When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing hard with our foreheads pressed together.
“Wow,” she whispered, a breathless laugh in her voice.
I smiled and brushed my thumb along her jaw. “Yeah.”
She searched my face for something. Doubt, maybe? Hesitation.
She didn’t find it.
“I don’t want to do this alone anymore,” she said quietly.
“You won’t,” I replied just as softly. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Her smile was slow and real and a little awed. “Good.”
Inside, Pepper barked as if to remind us there was food involved. Salt let out a low huff that sounded suspiciously approving.
Belle laughed and shook her head. “You know me and the dogs are a package deal, right? You want me, so you have to want them.”
I took her hand and laced our fingers together. “Sounds fucking perfect to me.”