41. Maddox
Maddox
The town square glows like something out of a storybook.
White lights are strung between lampposts and trees, looping overhead in loose arcs swaying with the breeze.
Stalls line the perimeter, wooden tables are dressed in garlands and pine boughs, carols drift over the speakers, and locals are selling everything from knitted hats to carved ornaments to jars of honey and jam.
The air smells like cinnamon, smoke, and cold.
Grace’s hand is warm in mine.
That still gets me. Even though I heard her tell Toby herself, heard her say she's done with that life, that she's here to stay, and she'll tell anyone who'll listen. Knowing it and feeling it are two different things.
Fuck, I’m a lucky bastard.
Chairs in groups of four are scattered around the square in little circles, with blankets folded over the backs and pillows tossed onto the seats. Small fires crackle in the center of each one; people gather close with mugs of hot chocolate, coffee, and cider.
Ahead of us, Mom is deep in conversation with Katie, Reggie, and Percy. Her hands are flying, animated as ever, scarf half undone, and whatever she’s saying has Percy laughing and Reggie leaning in, nodding along like she’s afraid to miss a word.
Erica is gone. She left the day after she ambushed Grace, and none of us have heard from her since. Reggie did share that Erica was spitting nails before she left about Marcos and how he was a lying asshole.
I wasn’t surprised. He didn’t pay her, never intended to. I want the best for her, and hope one day she gets sober and healthy.
Katie glances behind the group, catches my eye, and slows to meet us. “Hey, you two. Having fun?”
Grace smiles. “We are.”
Katie’s mouth curves, something proud and tender settling there. “Good. You deserve it.”
The words burrow deep and heavy in my chest. Not because they’re dramatic—but because they’re simple. Uncomplicated. Free of the old tension that used to live between us because of Dad’s secrets.
Mom glances over, catches sight of us, and pauses, smiling. “Katie, are you coming?”
My sister nods and glances back at us. “See you later.” Then she rushes to catch up with Mom.
“We’ll see you at Santa’s Workshop.” I watch my family ahead of us—laughing, connected, closer than we’ve been in years now that the past no longer has a hold on me.
Grace slows near a stall selling hand-thrown mugs, each one slightly crooked, imperfect in the best way. She reaches for a mug.
“I like this one.” She lifts a blue-gray cup, running her thumb along a ripple in the glaze. “It’s not trying to be anything it’s not.”
“You just described half the people in this town.”
She grins up at me, eyes bright. “Exactly.”
I stare at her, bundled in a coat that already smells faintly like my laundry soap, her hair tucked into a knit hat she stole from my closet and refuses to give back. She belongs here with me.
When Mom heard about Grace’s plans to stay, she cheered and insisted she move out of the house. It didn’t matter that we both told her it was her home, too. Nope. Mom wanted to give us space, said it was time.
After the holidays, she’s moving in with Patsy, whose husband passed three years ago now. Patsy’s been rattling around in that big old house of hers alone ever since. Patsy cried at Mom’s suggestion and welcomed the company like a gift.
Everything feels like it’s finding its place.
As we saunter past one of the fire pits, a familiar voice cuts through the carols. “Coach.”
Nate weaves through a small group of people, jacket unzipped despite the cold, team beanie pulled low over his ears.
“Hey, Grace.” He blushes as he stops near us. “You coming to the game on Saturday?”
A few of the high schools hold a tournament over the holidays to keep the guys fresh and ready for the final playoff games.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Grace leans into me, tightening her grip on my hand.
“Good.” His gaze shifts to me, pride flashing across his face. “We’re ready. Just wanted you to know.”
I clap a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. He’s broader than he was in September. Straighter, too. Confidence will do that. “I know. Now, go enjoy the night.”
“Yes, sir.”
He jogs to his friends, and as I watch him go, the warmth fixed and full settles in my chest. The team is unstoppable right now, and I still have trouble wrapping my head around it. Not because I ever doubted them, but because in my first year of coaching, we made it to the finals.
Looking over the season, I watched the team stumble early on, watched them grow, come together, and trust each other. It has been something special to watch them show up for each other.
Grace’s shoulder presses into my arm. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The proud-but-trying-not-to-look-proud thing.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“To me.” She tilts her head, eyes thoughtful. “They’re lucky to have you.”
The words hit harder than I expect, the echo of Nate’s confidence still ringing in my ears. I’ve coached teams before, but this—this feels different. Deeper. Like something I get to keep.
“I’m lucky to have them. And you.”
She rests her head on my shoulder and tightens her grip on my arm.
After Grace came back to town with me a few days ago, the team won that game, and I finally took a beat to let myself breathe. Then I sat Katie down and told her everything about Dad and the financial mess he left behind.
To my surprise, she didn’t turn on him or curse his name or rewrite who he was. All of which I’d feared. At first, she was quiet and still, which in itself unnerved me, but I’d had years with this truth. She was processing how Dad handled things.
When Katie finally spoke, she admitted she wasn’t shocked.
She never understood how we could afford my races and training and yet money was tight for anything else.
She wasn’t angry or disappointed with me or our father.
She only wished he hadn’t carried it all by himself.
And of course, she took great joy in pointing out I used to be guilty of that, too.
The memory pulls a smile from me. Katie and I are good. Solid.
Grace nudges my arm. “You went quiet. And now you’re smiling. What’s up?”
“Just thinking.”
“That’s a dangerous habit.”
I smile, not wanting to rehash what’s already settled, and switch to a more interesting topic. “You resigned.”
“I did.”
“Now what? Will this project with Lara keep you busy?” I hook my arm around her shoulders, pulling her deeper into me.
“It will for now, and who knows, if there’s a place for me there, I might take it. And if not, I’m not worried. I want to take my time and figure out what’s next. I want something I love and to make sure I’m doing it for the right reasons.”
My chest tightens—in a good way.
“Hey, Grace, Mad.” Wren pushes through the crowd with Oliver behind her.
We wave as they near, and I ask, “You still stepping down at the end of the school year?”
“What?” Grace frowns, looking from Wren to me.
A flicker of a grimace ghosts Wren’s features. “I’m not changing my mind. Can’t. As much as I love to coach, and I’ll help when I can, Bright Horizons has exploded faster than anyone expected. It needs all my attention.”
“Which means I’ve got to find a new assistant coach.” I tug Grace closer.
Grace arches a brow. “Oh.”
“Hey, we make a good team.” I kiss her forehead, allowing the hint to linger.
She laughs, bumping her hip into mine. “You just want to keep me under supervision.”
“I want you with me.” The admission flows easily. “Every minute of every day.”
She doesn’t deflect or joke it away, only studies me, eyes warm and sure.
“Aren’t you two adorable.” Oliver punches my arm playfully.
“Only trying to be like you and Wren.” I arch a brow, and we all laugh.
Then Grace says, “Wren, I’d love to learn more about Bright Horizons. Maybe we could grab a coffee and chat?”
“Sure. You know, I’m going to Helena after New Year’s for the day, you should come. That’s the best way to see it in action.”
“I’d like that, if it works out.” Grace shifts her attention to me.
“I’m heading to LA early in the new year.
I need to pack up my place, talk to my parents.
” She makes a face. “You know, finish things properly, make it official.” Her gaze moves over our little group. “Winslow Grove will be my home.”
Damn, I love hearing her say that, and Wren clearly agrees, considering she raises her hands and cheers. Oliver lets out a low whistle. “It’s about time.”
Grace laughs, and I relish the weight of her joy.
The four of us stroll into Santa’s Workshop, where long tables are covered in glitter, paint, ribbon, and half-finished ornaments.
Someone hands us each a blank wooden star and a cup of hot cider.
Grace immediately gets glitter on her gloves, and not too soon after, I end up with red paint on my sleeve. She grins at me like it’s a win.
By the time we hang our ornaments on the drying rack—hers neat and thoughtful, mine lopsided and unapologetic—Wren and Oliver say their goodbyes and leave, arguing playfully about whose ornament turned out better. Grace and I linger for a beat, laughing quietly, then step out into the cold.
“I was thinking, over spring break.” She swings our joined hands between us. “We should go to New York so you can meet Buffy and Palmer.”
“Already cleared my schedule.” She doesn’t know Buffy has already made it clear that I have no choice. She must meet me.
When Grace changed her New York plans for Christmas, Buffy wasn’t too happy, though she did love her sister’s new living arrangements.
Grace raises an eyebrow and smiles, the kind that lights up her baby blues. “Wait… Buffy… she—”
“Yeah, Buffy has already called me—a few times.”
“I knew giving her your cell number wasn’t a good idea.” She chuckles. “Did she tell you about their plans to visit us for this summer?”
“Yup.” My smile is so wide it hurts. “The town’s not ready for her.”
“Neither are you.” She beams up at me. “We may be twins, but we’re different. Buffy will keep you on your toes in a different kind of way.”
I let out a rich, deep laugh. “Bring it on.”
We stop and I pull her off to the side, my arm around her tightening. Her head fits against my chest like it was made to be there, always has and always will.
Flurries drift down, light enough to feel like a blessing instead of a warning, and Grace tilts her face up to me. “You happy, Coach?”
“Hell yeah.”
She smiles, and I’m loving every single one she’s had for me tonight, all of them feeling like a promise.
We stand there, wrapped in each other, surrounded by a town that knows us, by a future that finally feels open with possibility. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I have to carry everything alone. Not anymore.