Chapter 9
REBECCA
I wake to bright light streaming through the window and the sound of Pookie’s tags jingling as she gives herself an awake shake.
It’s Christmas morning.
I sit up, my heart doing a little jiggle of its own as memories from last night come rushing back.
The kiss.
Reese’s hands in my hair.
The way the world may as well have been just the two of us and the falling snow.
He’s already awake, sitting on the edge of the couch in his plaid pajamas, his hair adorably mussed. Hands clasped together, I think he’s praying. After a few moments, he shifts and blinks as if realizing that nothing that transpired in the last twenty-four hours was a dream.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, feeling slightly shy.
“Merry Christmas.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I want to do the same … again. It’s so soft and thick. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Eventually.” My cheeks warm. “You?”
“Same.”
We stare at each other for a beat too long—or not long enough—and then both look away. This could get awkward fast if we let it, but I don’t want awkward. I want more of what happened last night.
“Breakfast?” he suggests.
“Please. I’m starving.”
The dining room has been transformed into a winter wonderland overnight. Every table has a small Christmas tree centerpiece, and a massive buffet waits with everything from cinnamon rolls to eggs Benedict to chocolate-chip pancakes shaped like snowmen.
We fill our plates and find a table by the window. Outside, the snow continues to dance through the sky, though not as heavily as yesterday. The world looks clean and new and full of possibility.
The heaping pile of food is tempting, but I need to say this before I lose my nerve. “Last night—”
“Was amazing,” he finishes. “Unless you’re about to tell me it was a mistake, in which case I’m going to need to chug this coffee first.”
I laugh, and some of the tension melts away like snow in sunshine. “Not a mistake. Just ...”
“Brady?” he asks as if taking a guess.
I nod. “And because of my career and because we barely know each other anymore and—” I pause, because that’s not quite right.
His eyebrows crimp together and his shoulders dip slightly.
I wave my hand, not liking the way this is coming out. “Can I start over?”
He exhales with relief, maybe. “Of course.”
“It feels like I know you better after one day than I know most people I’ve worked with for years, but—”
He leans in, letting me finish.
“But I just shared all the reasons I’m uncertain. There are a lot of things—”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “To figure out.”
His callused fingers grip mine. Hands that are used to doing things, figuring things out, solving problems … wiping frosting from my cheek, a hair from my face, trailing down my spine.
Suddenly flushed, I nod, thankful he understands.
Reese adds, “We’ll figure things out together.”
That was exactly what I needed to hear. Wanted to hear.
My fingers lace through his, and warmth blooms in my chest. The kind that reminds me that this is a season of hope.
We spend Christmas morning doing all the things Noella has planned—sledding down the hill behind the lodge, coming back rosy-cheeked and laughing to find a bonfire blazing.
Toasting marshmallows and sipping hot cider.
Inside, we play charades, which I dominate.
Reese discovers I do a frighteningly accurate impression of a penguin, which sends him into fits of laughter.
By late afternoon, we’re curled up by the fire near the big tree, the lights casting everything in a soft glow.
I’m tucked against Reese’s side, and even though we haven’t exchanged gifts, this feels like the biggest one I didn’t know to put on my list for Santa.
Pookie is in pug heaven, belly full with thanks to some bacon scraps, and lounging by the fire.
After all, this is the season of giving.
I abruptly sit up. “Wait. I have something for you.”
I scurry to the room and return with a small wrapped package. “I got this yesterday at the gift shop.”
Reese raises his eyebrows. “Thank you.”
“Go ahead, open it.”
He unwraps it carefully, and when he sees the ceramic mug with a painted winter scene, his smile grows.
“It’s so we’ll never forget our first cup of cocoa because that’s what started this—” I explain while waving vaguely. “I got myself a matching one.”
“Becca, this is perfect.” He pulls out a small box from his pocket, wrapped with a red ribbon. “I got you something too.”
He must’ve bought this while I was agonizing over which pajamas to buy Pookie. My hands shake slightly as I open it. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with a snowflake pendant.
“It’s to remember your Christmas here and the quiet life you said you wanted. The one with snow and small towns and—”
My heart suddenly overflows. I kiss him before he can finish, soft and sweet, because words aren’t enough for what I’m feeling.
When I pull back, my eyes are misty. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
He fastens it around my neck, his fingers lingering on my skin, and I shiver for reasons that have nothing to do with temperature because I’m warm inside and out.
Spinning on my toes to face him, I touch the snowflake and ask, “If you could do anything for someone this Christmas, like be an anonymous Secret Santa, what would you do?”
He thinks for a moment. “Probably something for the station. New equipment for the guys or maybe fund a program for kids to learn fire safety.” His eyes twinkle, lingering on the snowflake before he meets my gaze. “How about you?”
My throat tightens. “I’d want to help families with sick children.
Cover medical bills, travel expenses for treatment, whatever they need.
Make it so parents don’t have to choose between being with their child and keeping a roof over their heads.
” I pause. “My niece, Ruthie, has had some health issues, as I’m sure you know.
Watching Brady and Lindy navigate that changed how I see everything. ”
“That’s a beautiful gift,” Reese says quietly.
The overwhelming need to be with my family, which made me flee Las Vegas, returns. “Can I use your phone? I want to call everyone and wish them a Merry Christmas.”
He hands it over without hesitation, and I tap Brady’s contact.
My brother answers on the second ring. “Merry Christmas, Reese!”
“It’s me,” I say. “Merry Christmas!”
“Becca!” He sounds surprised. “Merry Christmas! How’s the inn treating you?”
“It’s perfect.” I glance at Reese. “How’s everyone? How’s Ruthie?”
“She’s doing great! Running around with her new toys like a little elf who has eaten entirely too many sweets. The boys are amused. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
Relief floods through me. “Tell her Aunt Becca loves her and that I’m bringing her something special. The boys, too. Hug Mom and Dad. Lindy.”
“Aw, sis. You miss us?”
“Terribly.” My eyes brim with tears.
Reese slides his hand around mine and squeezes.
My brother and I chat for a few more minutes, and when I hang up, my chest aches.
“I know you miss them,” Reese says.
I shake my head. “I was supposed to do that concert tomorrow at the Progress Project Gala, but they don’t actually donate the money they raise.
It’s all a sleight of hand, fancy marketing, a big farce.
The funds go to administrative costs and executive salaries while they claim to support childhood illness research and pay people like me to perform. ”
His jaw tightens. “That’s—”
“Awful? Yeah. And I was going to be the face of it with my name attached to something that preys on people’s goodness.” I shake my head. “I can’t go back to that life, Reese. I can’t keep doing things that make me feel hollow inside just because someone else thinks it’s good for my brand.”
“Then don’t,” he says simply.
This time, I nod because I don’t plan to be anywhere but with my family tomorrow. “There’s also a New Year’s concert and my fans and—”
“Your fans love you. They’ll understand if you need to make changes.”
Before I can respond, Noella bursts into the room, her face twisted with panic. “The star! The star is missing from the tree!”
Everyone in the lobby and fireside turns to look. Sure enough, the top of the magnificent Christmas tree stands bare. The spot where the beautiful silver star should be is glaringly empty.
“What happened?” Corbin rushes over.
Noella’s Mrs. Claus outfit jingles with alarm. “I don’t know! It was there this morning during breakfast and now it’s gone!”
Corbin looks genuinely distressed.
Hollis pulls his wife into a comforting hug. “Don’t worry, we’ll find it.”
The guests begin murmuring—was it stolen? Did it fall? Should we call someone?
Reese stands, slipping into rescue hero mode. I have to admit, it’s very attractive. “When was the last time anyone saw it?”
I’m already on my feet too, the mystery pulling me in. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned this Christmas, it’s that sometimes the most important things aren’t where you expect to find them.
Sometimes they’ve been right in front of you for years, waiting to be discovered.