Chapter 24 Gideon
GIDEON
The Triple R chapel practically glowed, lit up with candles in the windows and lanterns along the path.
Gravel crunched under Gideon’s boots as he led Juliana up the steps, and for once he didn’t mind the nip of cold in the air.
It was Christmas Eve, and somehow, against every odd stacked against him, she was still here. By his side.
Inside, it was clear that his mom had gone overboard with the greenery. There were garlands over the beams and bows on every pew. But Gideon couldn’t bring himself to roll his eyes. Folks needed pretty things to look at this time of year. Needed hope. And tonight, he felt it thrumming in his chest.
They slid into a pew with the rest of the Reynolds clan, Cassie balancing Arlo on her lap, Stetson trying to poke Chance with his unlit candle.
The place wasn’t packed, but it was full enough to feel like community—ranch hands, lodge guests, a couple of locals who wandered in because they knew they’d be welcome.
That’s what the ranch had always been about.
The carols started soft, his mom’s voice carrying the high notes, his dad’s steady bass rumbling below.
Gideon’s voice wasn’t much to brag about, but he sang anyway, because that’s what you did in a place like this.
When “Silent Night” came around and the candles were lit, he caught Juliana’s face in the glow.
Her eyes were fixed on the flame, like she was drinking in the light.
Her features softened, every sharp line of control and worry easing until she looked .
. . peaceful. And man, that did something to him.
Because he’d spent the last however-many weeks watching her fight tooth and nail against peace, against letting anyone, including him, get too close.
And here she was, looking like she finally belonged.
He forgot to sing. Just stood there holding a candle and a prayer he hadn’t even formed yet. Lord, please . . . let me keep her. I’ll step up. I’ll do whatever You’re asking. Just . . . don’t let me lose her now.
The service ended with Scripture, his dad reading about the shepherds who got the angel’s message first. Gideon smirked at that. He’d always liked the story of how God picked the ones nobody expected. Kinda gave him hope.
Back at the lodge after the service, the place was buzzing.
Fire crackling, kids shrieking, cocoa steaming.
Connie had outdone herself again. There were jars of candy canes, bowls of marshmallows, even gingerbread cookies balanced on saucers like it was some kind of five-star cocoa bar.
Connie had taken Cassie and Juliana’s insistence that there wasn’t room at the chapel for the hot cocoa to mean she could take over the entire Redemption Ridge Ranch lodge lobby instead.
Juliana laughed as Chance insisted she pile both whipped cream and marshmallows on her drink, and Gideon just leaned against the mantel watching. She looked right at home, even kneeling in those fancy boots of hers to let a three-year-old decorate her cocoa like it was a construction project.
Barry caught his eye from across the room. Just a look, steady and knowing, as if he’d been waiting years for Gideon to finally grow up. And maybe he had. But instead of the old shame that used to gnaw at him, Gideon felt . . . ready. Not perfect. But ready.
He set his mug down before his nerves could get the better of him and crossed the room. He tugged Juliana gently away from Chance’s marshmallow masterpiece and toward the fireplace.
“Jules,” he said, low, because some things weren’t meant for the whole Reynolds peanut gallery.
Her brow creased. “What is it?”
His throat felt tight, but he forced the words out.
“I’ve been running from a lot of things.
From being the guy my family needs. From owning this ranch instead of just working it.
From . . . you.” His hands found hers, big and clumsy against her smaller ones, but he held on.
“I didn’t think I was good enough. Didn’t think I could carry it.
But I don’t want to live afraid anymore.
Not of failing here. Not of losing you.”
Her lips parted, breath shaky, but she didn’t pull away.
“I believe God knew I’d need you,” he said, voice rough.
“That I’d need someone to remind me that leading doesn’t mean you’re all alone.
You’ve been that for me, Jules. And I don’t want to fight it anymore.
I want to build this life with you. For good.
If you’ll let me. Will you stay married to me?
” he asked with a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
For a second, silence hung between them, the chaos of the lodge fading as if someone had shut a door.
Then she squeezed his hands, her eyes wet but steady.
“I was so afraid too. Afraid of letting go, of trusting anyone but myself. But God’s been showing me through all of this that He’s the one holding it together, not me. That control isn’t the same as peace.”
Her smile wobbled, but her voice was sure. “Yes, Gideon. I’m not going anywhere.”
The breath left him in a rush, and he kissed her right there in the middle of the lodge.
Cocoa mugs clinked behind them, kids giggled, and his family no doubt stared, but he didn’t give a rip.
Because this wasn’t about putting on a show.
This was about finally dropping every fear and choosing her. Choosing them.
When he pulled back, laughter bubbled up in his chest. “In case you’re wondering,” he murmured, “I said I fell halfway in love with you on the pineapple truck. I fell the rest of the way for you the night you climbed out the rear window of my truck.”
Juliana blinked, then laughed through her tears. “Figures. Leave it to you to think that was romantic.”
“Not romantic,” he said, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Just real. And I’ll take real with you, every day.”
Across the room, Barry lifted his mug in a toast, Connie dabbed her eyes, and Cassie grinned so big it was embarrassing. Stetson pretended to gag, Chance asked for more marshmallows, and life just . . . kept going.
And for once, Gideon didn’t feel behind. Didn’t feel like he was failing. With Juliana at his side, the weight of the ranch, family, and future didn’t feel like a burden anymore. It felt like a calling.
He pulled her closer, pressed his forehead to hers, and whispered the only prayer that fit. Thank You, Lord. For the unexpected. For her. For this life I never would’ve planned, but wouldn’t trade for anything.