Chapter 18 Gideon
GIDEON
It was mid-December and downtown Redemption Ridge had gone full Faithmark, which normally Gideon found a little over-the-top, but tonight, it suited the woman next to him.
Juliana’s cheeks were pink from the cold, her eyes reflecting the glow of the string lights that zigzagged between rooftops like some kind of European Christmas market.
She walked beside him, gloved hands clasped in front of her, as the scent of cinnamon and pine drifted on the wind.
It was like a Faithmark Christmas movie had thrown up. But, like . . . in a good way.
They passed a coffee shop, and a small group of tourists blocking the sidewalk caught their attention. A chorus of “Oh wow, it’s really him!” drifted through the air, followed by the flash of a phone camera.
Sure enough, Justin McKinnon stood smack in the center of it all, grinning like he hadn’t just wandered off a billboard.
“Well, look who the snow dragged in,” Gideon muttered.
Juliana squinted. “Is that the baseball guy . . . Justin something?”
“Yep. Local legend. I hear he’s retired now, but looks like he’s a magnet for sports-obsessed tourists.”
Justin caught sight of them and waved off the kids and middle-aged dads with a polite nod. “Gideon,” he said, shaking his hand. “Still wearing flannel like it’s a personality.”
“Still signing autographs like it’s a profession,” Gideon shot back, managing a small grin.
Justin laughed. “Not for long. I’m officially retired. Hanging up the cleats and moving home for good.”
“No kidding.” Gideon raised a brow. He'd heard the rumors, but to hear it directly from the source was another thing. “You sure about that? Ridge life moves a little slower than a stadium crowd.”
“Exactly the point.” He glanced around Main Street, as if letting it sink in. “Time to figure out who I am off the field.”
Gideon nodded. “Well . . . welcome home.”
“Thanks.”
One of the men nearby waved his phone in the air again. “Mr. McKinnon? Just one more?”
Justin chuckled. “Duty calls,” he said with a wink before turning back toward the waiting fans.
Gideon gave him a parting nod. “Later, McKinnon.”
He and Juliana kept walking, their boots crunching over fresh snow toward the line of sleighs near the town square. A few families waited nearby, bundled under wool blankets with paper cups of cider.
Looking at the scene ahead of him, he felt like a bit of a fool. Even after paragliding and the closeness they’d felt then, he felt unsure about where he stood with Jules. He knew how he felt, but there was so much more to consider.
Gideon helped her up into a sleigh, settling in beside her. Then, the driver clicked his tongue and the horses started forward.
Juliana tugged the blanket tighter around her, eyes scanning the twinkling lights strung between lampposts and the glowing reindeer display in front of the fire station. Her breath puffed white in the cold air, her profile soft and thoughtful in the moonlight.
The town glided past them—lights and garlands and smiling strangers. But Gideon felt the distance growing, inch by inch, between him and the woman beside him.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the way her voice had trembled when she talked to that guy from Harrison Hotels.
Or the way she’d lit up when the barn dance went off without a hitch, like she was made for that kind of thing.
Polished and professional. Not messy. Not flawed.
Not stuck on a man who forgot to put gas in his truck at least twice a year.
As captivating as she’d been while gliding with him, the excitement in her eyes and the color in her cheeks, what if she didn’t belong here? What if she realized down the road that he couldn’t give her what she wanted? He’d only have himself to blame for holding her back.
So he stayed still.
Didn’t tease her about the blanket tucked up to her chin. Didn’t bump his knee against hers on purpose or make some joke to make her laugh. He just stared ahead at the lights and let the clop of hooves fill the silence.
He would let her talk first. Let her decide how close this ride would get.
He wanted her. But he wasn’t going to trap her. Not when she was finally starting to figure out who she was.
And not when he wasn’t sure he could be the kind of man she needed. She said she liked to hear him dream. But he wasn’t suddenly becoming some grand visionary. He still preferred to fly by the seat of his pants and say yes to as many opportunities as possible.
Gideon adjusted the borrowed blanket across Juliana’s lap as the sleigh curved around the edge of the town square, the rhythmic jingle of the horses’ harnesses filling the silence between them.
“This was a good idea,” she said quietly.
He glanced over. “Yeah?”
She nodded, still looking straight ahead. “It’s really peaceful. Kind of magical.”
The driver up front gave a little whistle, guiding the horses into a slower rhythm as they turned down the ridge road that overlooked the valley. Below them, the whole town sparkled with Christmas lights. It was beautiful. Perfect, even.
Which somehow made Gideon feel worse.
“I had a fight with my mom,” Juliana said suddenly, her voice more fragile than he was used to hearing. “On the phone. Yesterday.”
He looked at her then, trying to see what was behind the words she was saying. “I’m sorry.”
She gave a soft shrug. “It wasn’t a surprise. Just . . . a long time coming.”
Silence stretched for a moment before she spoke again, slower this time.
“My parents divorced when I was ten. My mom remarried a year later. To a man who could—and I quote—stabilize our future. Which is rich, considering he spent most of my teen years cheating on her with his assistant and avoiding family events like they were contagious.”
Gideon winced. “That’s rough.”
Juliana let out a short breath. “Yeah. I learned early that commitment doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone. But for me . . . it’s everything. I latch on, maybe too tightly. Even when it’s falling apart. Even when I probably should’ve let go a long time ago.”
The words hit him square in the chest.
I should’ve let go a long time ago.
He stared straight ahead, the town stretching below them like a snow globe come to life, but all he could feel was the sting behind her words.
Of course she meant him. What else could she be talking about?
The rushed marriage. The awkward aftermath.
She’d been stuck here ever since, trying to salvage some kind of dignity while he tripped over garland and his feelings like a man who had no business holding onto someone like her.
She was trying to let him down gently. That’s what this was. A polite confessional disguised as vulnerability. And maybe she wasn’t wrong. Maybe he really was the mistake she should’ve let go of already.
Still, he forced a smile. Tried to keep it light. “Well, I can definitely confirm that letting go isn’t your strong suit. Letting go feels an awful lot like changing plans.”
She smiled, but then her gaze shifted, looking out over the snow-covered storefronts again. She was quieter now. Maybe even a little lost. He shifted slightly, his arm brushing hers. “So what keeps you hanging on?” he asked, trying to keep the question casual. “Hope?”
She gave a dry little laugh. “Stubbornness, mostly. But yeah. Hope too.” She turned to look at him then, eyes softer than before.
“I used to think if I planned everything perfectly, I could avoid the mess. The heartache. But life doesn’t care about plans.
I’m starting to think that maybe the detour’s the only part of the trip worth remembering. ”
Gideon swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the lights ahead. A row of icicle strands blinked in perfect rhythm across the eaves of the church. Down the block, a nativity scene glowed against the snow.
He wasn’t what she’d planned. He knew that in his bones.
But he wanted to be the part she chose anyway.
Still, he couldn’t say it. Not yet. Not when everything in her life—the job offer, the fresh start—pointed away from him.
Gideon’s heart pounded hard, as if her words had knocked something loose. But he couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t let himself believe she meant it.
Not when everything in him still felt like a gamble she hadn’t meant to take.
Maybe, if he were a braver man, he would’ve reached for her hand. Told her she didn’t have to do it alone anymore. Told her that commitment didn’t scare him when it came to her. That he wanted to be her soft place to land.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he sat there with the night air biting at his knuckles, guilt settling heavier in his chest than the blanket over their knees.
Because he wanted her.
So much it physically ached sometimes. He wanted to hold her and protect her and kiss her until she forgot what it meant to be second-guessed.
But he also knew what she needed—stability, structure, safety—and he wasn’t convinced he could be that for her.
Definitely not without asking her to sacrifice the future she’d worked so hard for.
Not without holding her back from something greater.
Mostly, he didn’t want her to look back at a life together with him and wish she’d not taken that detour.
He let out a slow breath, his voice quieter this time. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The sleigh creaked and swayed as it turned back toward the ranch, and the lights of town slowly faded behind them. Juliana nestled deeper into the blanket beside him, close but not quite touching.
He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t kiss her, even though he wanted to—more than he wanted his next breath. Because she’d been brave enough to say she held on too long. And he was starting to think the kindest thing he could do was let go.
But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to keep her. Forever.