Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
The bad news was that Baby Jesus had gone missing. Again.
The good news was that no one in the audience had a clue.
By the time the curtain rose in the community center auditorium for the last part of the pageant, Lily had located the baby, replaced two bent halos, and bribed a shepherd with a cookie to stop picking his nose. From the seats, it probably looked charming. From backstage, it was utter chaos.
To Lily, it was perfection.
The music for the last carol began, and Savvie and Tessa were front and center.
After waving at Allie and Davis, Savvie loudly and proudly sang off-key and two beats behind everyone while Tessa elbowed her and tried to steal the show.
By the time the final song notes played from the speaker, the audience was holding their sides from laughing.
Lily and Evie laughed too. Those girls were a delightful menace, God bless them, but they added so much joy to their family too.
Finally, the beginning notes to the last song, “Silent Night,” began, and the packed auditorium quieted.
Some of Lily’s older students handed out candles, and row by row, they flickered to life, warm light spilling out over their faces.
It was Lily’s favorite part of the pageant—the whole town joined in to sing the final song of the evening.
Her gaze stayed locked on Chloe. For weeks in rehearsal, they’d only mouthed the words together, with no sound at first. Then, gradually, Chloe began humming, and lately, Lily had thought maybe she’d been ready to really sing.
She never pushed, of course. She firmly believed Chloe would talk when she was ready.
It was enough that she was here, smiling and twirling in her angel costume and part of the magic of Christmas after her little life had been devastated.
The music swelled, and Lily joined in with Evie next to her.
Chloe opened her mouth, and her voice rang out in the hushed auditorium, clear and certain, along with the others.
“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.”
It wasn’t louder or sweeter than any of the other children’s voices, but Lily heard it. She knew it because she’d been waiting for it for months. That small, brave voice weaving into the chorus like it had always belonged.
Her heart nearly burst. Tears stung her eyes as she reached for Evie’s hand, and her twin squeezed back.
In the first row, Lily caught sight of the Whitmores. Chloe’s grandparents were on their feet, candles trembling in their hands, tears streaming openly down their faces. They clung to each other, pride in their granddaughter etched alongside the grief for their daughter.
Lily’s own eyes blurred. All she could think, through the lump in her throat, was how much it would mean if Rush were here to see this. If he could see what she saw—that Chloe wasn’t broken. That she was healing.
Chloe was finding her voice again.
The final verse rose, the children’s voices sweet and soft, the audience’s deeper ones layering beneath them until the sound filled the room. It was magical. Lily swiped at her cheeks, trying to compose herself before the curtain fell.
The door at the back of the auditorium opened, letting in a sliver of light.
Her head turned instinctively, and she knew who it was even before the tall figure slipped inside. Her body always knew. The air seemed to shift when he was near, prickling over her skin, and sending a shiver of tingles up the back of her neck.
She let herself look toward the one place she’d avoided all night.
Dark uniform. Silver badge catching the light. The Stetson’s unmistakable shape as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the back wall.
Rush.
Her breath caught. Across the sea of flickering candles, their eyes met, and something unspoken stretched between them—warm and achingly sharp all at once.
She forced herself to look forward again and focus on the last notes, the bows and applause, and the final curtain call.
To finish the show with her full attention where it should be, on the kids.
This night had been weeks of hard work, and she let them shine in the wild applause, even if she suddenly felt… well… unsettled.
When the crowd began thinning, Lily slipped away to check the wings one last time. Sure enough, Rush was there, leaning against the wall, hat in his hands, looking broody and manly and good enough to eat.
“Good show,” he said. His eyes softened when they met hers. “Sorry I missed most of it.”
“You caught the best part,” she said, forcing her voice light. “You saw Chloe sing.”
His mouth curved in that half smile that she loved. “Yeah, I did.”
They stood there in the hallway just a beat too long.
“Well—” she said, just as Rush spoke.
“I should’ve—” He stopped, and they both smiled, for real this time.
“Go ahead,” she said.
“I should’ve said this before,” he went on, shifting his hat in his hands, “but I’m sorry, Lily. For dropping off the map after Candlelight Night. That wasn’t fair to you.”
Something inside Lily relaxed. This was Rush: handsome, stoic, impossibly noble. A wash of affection swept through her, but she kept her tone casual. “You did what you needed to do. And I’ve been busy too. Wrangling angels, obviously. I didn’t exactly have time to miss you, Sheriff.”
One dark brow arched, and he shifted more comfortably against the wall. “You sure about that?”
“Well,” she added, smiling, “maybe I missed parts of you.”
His eyes dipped down to her mouth before he glanced up. “Good.”
The heat in her belly flared. Flirting with Rush Callahan had become her new favorite pastime, and now that she knew he wasn’t ghosting her, she could lean into it.
This—this delicious teasing and stealing a few moments in a dark hallway—was fun.
Light. Safer than what simmered beneath it.
She could stay here forever, soaking up the push and pull of the man in front of her, the warmth he kept buried under that gruff exterior.
That was the whole point of their arrangement, wasn’t it? Temporary and fun.
Rush wasn’t sticking around, and she wasn’t asking him to. She’d already learned the cost of giving her heart to a man who couldn’t give her the future she wanted. She wasn’t falling in love with Rush… but she could if she wasn’t very careful.
Lucky for her, he made it easy to draw a line. He simply walked away when they got too close to crossing it.
His radio crackled with static, then Myrna Bryne’s voice came through, and the moment ended.
“Copy that,” he said into the radio. “I have to go,” he said, looking very much like he wouldn’t mind staying.
She smiled. “Merry Christmas, Rush.”
“Merry Christmas, Lily.” He brushed her lips with his, probably meaning it as a quick holiday kiss.
But the second his mouth touched hers, she closed her eyes and let herself savor it.
By the time she opened them, he was striding away, shoving his hat down low over his ears, heading out to serve and protect the snowy streets of Northfield.
Much like a hero, although she knew how he felt about that word.
Later, back with her family, Evie slipped her arm through hers as they walked home. Lily tucked her sister close, smiling at her excited chatter, even as something hollow settled in her chest. By the time she washed up and sank into Evie’s guest bed, the ache was still there.
And maybe that was exactly why she was thankful for the reminder that this was all temporary. Because if she wasn’t careful, there was a very good possibility she’d fall for him completely.
It was better this way. Better to live in the now. Better to enjoy him while she had him and keep her heart out of it.