Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You’re scowling,” Lily murmured, tucking her arm through Rush’s as they stepped between rows of trees. “It’s ruining the vibe.”
Rush looked wildly out of place in his uniform, the tense set of his mouth at odds with the strings of white lights zigzagging overhead. At her glance, he made an effort, lifting the corner of his firm mouth into something like a smile. “Sorry. Habit.”
Except it wasn’t just habit. Whatever had followed him from work still clung to him, even if he tried to disguise it.
“It’s part of your charm.” She handed him a tiny paper cup of warm cider, one of the free samples set out for shoppers. “Here. Drink and be merry.”
He grunted, scanning the crowded parking lot beside the Northfield Dairy.
Every year, it transformed into a Christmas tree lot, complete with carols crackling faintly from an old speaker and blending into the happy shrieks of kids darting in and out of the rows.
The sweet scent of pine sap and kettle corn hung in the cold air, and Lily inhaled deeply, happiness curling through her.
For her, the scene was pure comfort. For Rush, she suspected, the scene felt like chaos.
She and Evie had already been to the lot to pick out Evie’s tree, a slim one that fit perfectly in the apartment.
Still, it felt strange not to choose one for her own home.
For years, she’d gone with her family to pick out a tree for the apartment she shared with Tucker.
He’d stopped coming years ago, and she stopped asking, secretly glad not to have to watch him fidget and check his watch like he had someplace better to be.
Another first, she thought, smiling to herself as she leaned closer into Rush’s warmth. At this rate, this was going to be a very exciting year.
At Rush’s house, one of the first things she’d noticed was the lack of a tree. Moving or not, it was too bleak for December. A house needed at least a little light and cheer.
“Admit it,” she said, looking up at him under the glow of the strung lights. “This is cozy.”
“It’s crowded.”
“Hey,” she said softly, squeezing his arm. “If this isn’t your thing, we don’t have to stay.” A snowflake drifted down, catching on her eyelashes and refusing to melt.
He exhaled hard. “I’m not the best company tonight.”
“Let’s go then,” she said immediately, her old reflexes kicking in despite her disappointment. “We can grab dinner instead, or call it a night—”
“No,” he said firmly. “I want to be here, Lily. I’m just keyed up over work. It’s hard to turn it off sometimes.”
“What happened?” She held her breath, wondering if he’d answer.
“Nothing worth talking about.” Before she could push, he lifted a hand to her chin and tilted her face up. He studied her for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before his shoulders eased. “Show me the perfect tree you’ve been talking about.”
She tugged him down the nearest row to inspect the trees until her eyes lit up in front of the giant fir.
The branches were full and wild, and the top tapered to a precise point, just waiting for the star she’d put in the box she’d packed for him.
Alongside it, she’d packed an assortment of ornaments scavenged from her mom and aunts, and an old metal tree stand she’d dug out of Annette’s attic.
Nothing matched, but they would add some cheer to his bare house.
She couldn’t stand to think of him going home to such bleakness.
“This one,” she said with certainty. “I love it.”
Rush eyed it, skepticism written on his face. “That thing’s enormous. No way it’s fitting in my living room. How about this one?” he asked, pointing at a much smaller, more typically proportioned tree.
“That one’s boring,” she said absently, circling the tree to see the back. “If I wanted perfect, I’d get a fake tree. This one has character. It will fit. I know it. I’m an expert at this.”
“If you say so.” His brow rose, but he didn’t argue.
They brought the slip to the makeshift wooden hut, where a bundled-up teenager in a puffy coat checked them out. When Lily pulled out her wallet, Rush was faster, sliding a card across the counter.
“That was supposed to be my treat,” she said as they wandered over to the tables set up with holiday crafts and gifts while the tree was bound and loaded onto Rush’s truck.
“That’s not how this works,” he said simply, and she let it lie, understanding that Rush was old-fashioned enough to think going dutch was a terrible idea, and that, with him, there wasn’t much room for debate.
“This will be fun,” she said, warming her hands with a new cup of cider. The latte had done its job, giving her a boost of energy, and she fairly sparkled with excitement.
“What’s the plan now?”
“The plan is to decorate,” she said. “Technically, you’re supposed to wait a day for the branches to fall, but we can at least water it tonight and put up the lights. The lights are my favorite part of Christmas.”
She paused to admire a table of handmade jewelry and bowls of polished stones.
“Christmas has always been huge in my family. My mom bakes for days—cookies and pies, and cinnamon rolls the size of your head. Evie and I still watch Christmas movies in our jammies, and make hot chocolate when we decorate the tree. And of course, Theo and Amber are hosting their Christmas Eve party again.”
She glanced up at him and kept her voice light. “Are you going?”
Theo usually invited half the town, although Rush hadn’t ever come before.
She held her breath, aware that she was asking more than he probably wanted, but she wanted him to meet her family.
They were always so worried about her asthma and how she was handling the breakup.
She wanted them to see the man in front of her and know that she was handling everything fine. Just fine.
But it was a lot to ask, and she knew it. Her family was loud and nosy and impossible to ignore. She loved them all dearly, but Tucker had never taken to them, and it had hurt her. She was afraid Rush would feel the same, and she knew it was unreasonable, but that would hurt even more.
What was happening to her?
“I hadn’t planned on it,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
The brush-off didn’t surprise her, but it still left a pinch in her chest. She chose a delicate necklace with a heart-shaped rose quartz and held it up to her neck to look in the mirror. “What about you? Any Christmas traditions in your family?”
Rush shrugged. “Sarah and Rachel and Gram always took care of that. Pop and I usually went hunting at the cabin.”
“Typical boys,” she teased.
“I was almost a teenager by the time we moved here.” He flashed a crooked smile. “Hunting deer had a lot more appeal. And it was a helluva lot quieter at the cabin.”
She laughed, delighted at the thought of a teenage broody Rush Callahan escaping from a houseful of girls.
Then his hand covered hers, large and warm, folding her fingers around the quartz. He lifted it in the glow of the lights, turning it so the facets shimmered. “What’s this?”
“Rose quartz,” she said. “It’s for healing and”—she flushed slightly, aware that she was treading into woo-woo territory—“love.” She picked up the smaller, well-worn stone she always wore around her neck, holding it up for him to see.
“My mom gave this to me when I was little to remind me to breathe. Some people think it’s silly, but I swear it helps. ”
“It’s not silly,” he said, setting the necklace carefully back on the tray. “Tree’s ready. Time to get our Christmas jammies on and decorate,” he said with a wicked grin.
She bumped his arm with her shoulder. “I knew you were too good to be true.”
“Careful—don’t break it,” Lily called, stepping back as Rush wrestled the enormous fir through the front door. Pine needles rained down on his Stetson, catching on his coat while he cursed under his breath and muscled the tree through the house.
She’d offered to help, but in true Sheriff Callahan form, he’d just given her a look and kept going.
Men. Lily leaned back against the wall, biting back a smile as she admired the view. Broad shoulders, made even broader by his sheepskin coat, narrowed to a trim waist and powerful legs in his dark-gray uniform trousers.
Riggs wanted no part of their nonsense. He’d taken one look at the tree, sighed in his deeply unimpressed manner, and retreated to his bed in the kitchen. He wasn’t as menacing as usual with her, so she counted it as a win.
“Christ,” Rush grunted, giving the tree one last heave into the corner of the living room next to the hearth—exactly where she’d pictured it the moment she first saw his house. “This thing belongs on the village green.”
“Shush,” she said, just as the top of the tree scraped the ceiling beam with a loud shhhkkkk that made him wince. “Wait until the lights are on. You’ll see.”
The house was quiet when they walked in, the kind of quiet that echoed off bare hardwood floors and half-packed boxes. Lily glanced around and felt a pang—she’d always pictured the farmhouse as warm and full of life, but in reality, it felt stripped of life.
She set her bag near the door, scanning the empty living room. “Do you actually live here or just squat between shifts?”
Rush gave her one of those unreadable looks. “No sense waiting.”
She nodded toward the box she’d packed for him, keeping her voice light. “Well, we’re going to unpack Christmas tonight.”
He dropped to a crouch and wrestled the trunk into the tree stand.
It groaned in protest as he tightened the bolts before stepping back to test its balance.
Apparently satisfied, he took a utility knife from his duty belt and sliced through the plastic netting holding it together.
The tree exploded comically outward in every direction.
Rush threw up an arm to protect his face as the thing wobbled precariously, knocking into the mantel before finally settling upright.
“So pretty,” Lily said happily.