Chapter 7
When they’d stepped through the doors of the firehall Edison swore his heart tried to somersault its way out of his chest. All the Christmasy scents were there, and the warm air, and the noise too—laughter and chatter bouncing off every wall.
But he barely noticed any of it. He was too focused on not hyperventilating.
This was it. Tonight, he was going to tell Kevin how he felt. No hedging. No coy teasing. Just say it.
Or at least, sweater it.
Even as they moved into the chaos, he couldn’t stop from glancing over at Kevin. At the little furrow between his brows as if he wasn’t quite sure where to go next and he didn’t want to make a mistake that would ruin the evening for anyone.
Edison’s heart clenched. Kevin was perfect. All tall and thoughtful and solid, like a lamppost yet willing to bend when it was important.
Kevin’s gaze met his, and his face lit up in that way that always made Edison want to sing and cry at the same time.
Okay. Now. Just do it.
No reason to wait. Edison squared his shoulders, ready to whip off his jacket as if he was presenting an award-winning science fair project titled “One Very Love-Struck Sweater.”
Before he could undo a single button, a streak of motion zipped toward him.
“Mr. W” a voice squealed. He barely had time to blink before a small hand grabbed his own and tugged him off toward the far side of the hall. “Come see the marshmallow toss!”
He glanced back at Kevin, apologetic for leaving him in the lurch. Kevin only chuckled and gave him a half-salute, eyes soft with affection.
So Edison went. Of course he went. He crouched and cheered and got hit in the face by rogue marshmallows and laughed until his cheeks hurt.
It was twenty minutes later when he spotted Kevin standing beside the punch table, looking adorably uncertain about what to do with his hands.
He hadn’t taken off his coat either, Edison noticed with a flutter of nerves.
Maybe he was waiting. Maybe he’d known Edison would need a minute to build up to this.
Edison crossed the room, his jacket still firmly in place even though it was getting very warm in the hall. “Hey, sorry. I got abducted by the sugar-gremlins.”
Kevin smiled, handing him a cup. “You were a hit.”
“Don’t think my charm saved me. I had to bribe them with candy canes so they would let me go.” He sipped the punch. Cranberry and ginger. Good, but only because it wet his suddenly dry mouth enough he could—should—be ready to do the next thing. “I was just about to…uh…”
Before he could continue, a clang echoed from near the kitchen, followed by a booming voice. “Change of plans! Gaudy sweater contest is before dinner, folks. Apparently, someone forgot to turn on the second oven and the sweet potatoes are not yet toasted.”
Laughter rang out, and Edison blinked at Kevin. This was it. No more delays.
“I have something to show you,” he said, voice shaky but determined.
Kevin turned, gaze sharp and curious. “Yeah?”
Edison nodded then reached for the zipper of his coat.
And once again, a chorus of children arrived like a confetti cannon of chaos.
“Mr. W, help me with my lights!”
“Can you untangle my battery pack?”
“Mine’s blinking weird!”
He met Kevin’s gaze across the swarm, helpless. Kevin just grinned and rolled up his sleeves.
They dove into the kid chaos together.
Eventually, the last blinking elf was operational, the tinsel had been secured, and Brad Ford raised his voice above the gathered ruckus. “Time for everyone to line up for the gaudy sweater parade. Strut your stuff past this year’s judges now, please.”
Edison found Kevin’s hand in the fray and gave it a squeeze, tugging him toward a quieter corner behind the raffle table. “Okay,” he said, heart thudding. “Now. For real this time.”
Kevin tilted his head, clearly trying to read him. “What’s going on?”
Edison cleared his throat, nerves doing jumping jacks. “I made my sweater in honour of you.”
Kevin’s brow rose slightly, lips twitching at the corners. “Oh?”
“It’s not my usual,” Edison said quickly. “I mean, it’s shiny, yes, but toned down. Grown-up. A little more...you.” His fingers fumbled with the zipper, but he forced it down. “I just—I wanted you to know I see you. And that I’m not afraid to meet you partway.”
He tugged off his coat.
Beneath it, his sweater was slate grey with thick, knobby yarn pom-poms, like the ones that usually sat on top of a toque.
They were arranged in a lopsided geometric pattern.
Silver threads ran through the fabric in subtle waves, catching the light when he moved.
It was stylish, quirky, and—Edison hoped—heartfelt.
It was, in short, not his usual bold-and-bedazzled look, but still him. Just...adapted.
“It’s supposed to be gaudy,” he said with a nervous laugh. “So I couldn’t go too understated. But I thought—maybe—it was somewhere in between the gaudy that I like and something you’d like.”
Kevin’s eyes softened, and his lips parted as if he was about to say something—when suddenly his entire face lit up like a sunrise.
“What?” Edison asked, bewildered.
Kevin’s hands moved to the zipper of his own coat. “Well, funny thing.”
He opened his jacket.
Edison’s jaw dropped.
Because underneath Kevin’s sedate black outerwear was the most gloriously awful sweater Edison had ever seen—
Bright neon green and sunflower yellow with patches of electric pink, clashing stripes across the arms, and smack dab in the middle of the chest, hand-stitched in pink yarn with a slightly crooked heart around it, was one word:
Edison.
Kevin said nothing. He didn’t have to.
Edison’s heart exploded.
“Oh my God,” Edison breathed, tears springing to his eyes. “Kev…”
Kevin’s ears were red, and his smile a little shy. “I thought maybe sometimes styles should change.”
“You—” Edison’s voice cracked. “You absolutely glorious sap.”
Beyond them, the party continued. Kids laughed, adults shouted and cheered as each new gaudy sweater in the lineup hit the spotlight and the participants took a spin.
Edison barely heard any of it.
He stepped in close, eyes fixed on Kevin’s sweater, then slowly looked up to meet his gaze. “That is the most ridiculous and romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”
Kevin shrugged lightly, but his hand reached out, warm against Edison’s lower back. “Seems fair. You made yours for me. I made mine for you.”
Edison didn’t care that half the town was in the room and might glance their direction at any moment. He reached up, cupped Kevin’s face between both hands, and kissed him.
It wasn’t the kind of kiss they usually shared—not the passionate ones where they were so hot for each other they couldn’t think. Not the ones Edison usually gave that were shy and careful and full of possibility.
This one was certain.
Kevin kissed him back just as firmly, his arms enfolding Edison, sweater to sweater, warm through all the layers. They stood there in the chaos of the firehall, in their equally ridiculous sweaters, wrapped up in each other like some kind of makeshift holiday miracle.
When they finally pulled apart, Edison rested his forehead against Kevin’s.
“I love you,” he whispered, soft but true.
Kevin blinked once then grinned. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Kevin’s arms tightened around him. “Love you, too, sunshine.”
That was it. The moment. The whole thing. There wasn’t a string quartet or a snow machine or a perfectly timed camera flash—though Edison was pretty sure someone in the room had snapped a photo.
It didn’t matter.
This—this feeling of being wrapped in affection and safety and light—it was everything.
They stood there for another few seconds, swaying slightly as if there were music only they could hear.
Then someone near the front called, “Last call for any sweaters we haven’t seen! Time to strut your gaudy stuff!”
Kevin pulled back with one final kiss to Edison’s temple. “Ready?”
Edison beamed. “Oh, baby. I was born ready.”
They paraded up together, hand in hand. The crowd whooped then cheered, and Edison wasn’t sure his heart could hold another single teaspoon of joy.
There were flashing lights and cheesy holiday music.
Kevin's name was chanted by a group of teenagers lead by Jinx who were clearly thrilled to see him looking like a walking Crayola box.
Edison’s heart filled to overflowing.
As the evening rolled on, Edison caught Kevin looking at him from across the room. Just looking. That steady gaze, warm and full and so achingly sure.
Edison mouthed, “You okay?”
Kevin nodded. Then, clear as day, mouthed back, “Home?”
Lordy, that was never going to get old. He crossed the room and laced their fingers together again.
Home wasn’t a place.
It was a man in a sweater that said Edison in neon pink yarn.
It was a quilt on a bed that never felt empty anymore.
It was two sets of footprints in the snow—and the knowledge that going forward, Edison wasn’t walking alone. Or prancing, or dancing, or whatever his heart desired.
He had Kevin, who loved him just the way he was.
One more story (starting on the next page!) will conclude our current adventures in Heart Falls series.
If you need more cowboys from me with this same sense of found family and belonging, you can go back to where it all began.
Rocky Mountain Heat is the first book in the completed Six Pack Ranch series, and there’s a lot of cowboys to get to know and love, and lots of strong, determined and happy women to spend time with.