Chapter 29 #2
“Pretty’s one word for it.” He tugged his Stetson off and tossed it onto the coffee table, followed by his coat, which he hung on a hook by the door. He ran a hand through his hair, scattering a few stray needles and stretching the uniform shirt tight across his shoulders.
When she turned, Rush was leaning in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame, a booted foot crossed in front of the other.
He looked tired and tense, worn down in a way that made her chest ache, made her want to ease the weight he carried.
There was nothing fragile about him. The broad set of his shoulders and the badge on his chest revealed him as every inch the tough, invincible sheriff, and yet the look in his eyes told a different, more vulnerable story.
“You’re safe from the Christmas jammies. They didn’t have your size,” she teased.
He nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “What’s next in this Christmas fantasy of yours?”
“Not exactly the wildest fantasy, but I planned for hot chocolate and popcorn.” She took the ingredients for both out of the box she’d brought and headed toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you make a fire, and I’ll get these started?”
She headed to the kitchen and busied herself with making cocoa and popping the corn in an old-fashioned stovetop popcorn maker she’d found stashed in the cupboard.
She added cinnamon and sugar to the melted coconut oil, turning the crank slowly as the popcorn snapped and popped.
As far back as she could remember, Annette and the aunts had made popcorn like this. No microwave popcorn for the Harts.
When the last kernel had exploded, she poured it all into a bowl and carried it, along with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, back to the living room, only to stop short.
The tree glowed now. Strands of mismatched colorful lights wound around the branches, casting the room in a twinkly, jewel-toned hue.
Like the tree, the lights weren’t perfect.
Some were bunched in places, stretched too thin in others, but they were on, transforming Rush’s living room with the homey, glowing warmth she’d pictured.
Rush sat sprawled on the couch, eyes heavy lidded as he watched the flames lick up the kindling. Riggs had planted himself at his boots. Master and his most loyal companion.
He’d taken his boots off, leaving him in his uniform, minus his radio, which he’d set on the end table next to him.
Weariness carved deeper lines along his face, and scruff shadowed his jaw, but it only made him look rougher, powerfully male, and heartbreakingly human all at once. Her heart squeezed.
“You know,” she said, setting the cocoa and popcorn down and curling onto the couch next to him, “I’ve always loved this house. Even before I knew you lived here.”
Rush rolled his head toward her and waited, his eyes solemn with exhaustion.
“I used to drive by and imagine the family inside,” she said after a moment.
“A mom baking, kids in the yard, a dad coming home tired but happy. The orchard out back turning gold in September. I always wanted to know what that felt like.” She let out a quick, self-conscious laugh.
“My mom and aunts did everything for me and my sisters when my dad left, but it wasn’t the same.
I wanted a normal family.” She paused then added quietly.
“I still do.” She took a sip of cocoa, letting the sweetness settle the lump in her throat.
She could have mentioned that her earliest memories were of living in the concrete complex of government-subsidized housing on the outskirts of Northfield while her mom worked as a waitress and went to school at night, but that would have shifted them from easy small talk into real feelings—and from the brooding set of Rush’s mouth, she knew he wasn’t willing to go there.
“How about you? You must not have stuck around for long after high school?”
“I couldn’t wait to leave,” he said bluntly.
“I wanted to pull my own weight. Didn’t want my grandparents carrying me when they already had their hands full with my sisters.
Figured the best way to make myself useful was to join up.
The Marines took me, gave me structure and a way to take care of myself.
That’s all I wanted back then. That and to see the world. ”
Lily took a deep breath, concentrating on energy. His. Hers. Theirs. Rush was charged with it, either awaiting more unwanted questions or hearing about her own upbringing. That isn’t what this is, Lily, she chided herself. That’s not what you need from him. At least not now. Not yet.
“You must have stuck out like a sore thumb with that Texas drawl,” she teased, wanting to lighten the mood.
It worked. Rush’s shoulders loosened the slightest bit. “We did. None of us really lost it.”
“Thank God for that,” she murmured before she could stop herself.
He grinned suddenly, showing a flash of white in the dim light. “You like that, do you?”
Her cheeks warmed, but she nodded anyway. “It’s not bad,” she murmured. “What made you come back home?” she asked after a comfortable silence.
He looked into the fire broodingly. “I came back because this is home.”
She leaned in a little, searching his face. “And now you’re leaving again?”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then his gaze cut to hers, his eyes a cool flat gray. “I guess I’m not meant to stay in one place.”
Lily leaned back, the quiet settling heavily between them.
Her gaze drifted to the crooked tree in the corner, its top bent where it hit the ceiling.
A smile curved her lips, more from habit than happiness.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” she said softly.
“This place deserves someone who’ll put down roots. ”