Chapter 18 Penn
Penn
“Are we almost done?” I grumble, my voice low enough that only Jaylynn can hear.
She jabs her elbow into my ribs, sharp enough to make me grunt. “Come on, Grinch. Everyone is loving this but you.”
“I told you I can’t sing,” I mutter, though even I know this whole caroling thing isn’t about hitting the right notes.
It’s about neighbors leaning on each other, about belonging, about letting the season work its magic.
But did we really have to do it on the coldest night of the year?
Christ, I’m pretty sure my balls just retreated north for hibernation.
“There’s cold beer after caroling,” she promises, her words puffing out in little clouds of white.
I shove the flimsy songbook into my pocket and rub my hands up and down her arms, pretending it’s to keep her warm, when really it’s because I can’t stop touching her.
My fingers itch for excuses. My body leans without asking permission.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Dylan the Douche watching us, his gaze narrowed, and the caveman part of me wants to sling an arm around her and stake my claim.
“I want hot beer,” I grouch.
Her nose crinkles, adorable in a way that should be illegal. “You do?”
“No.” I dip closer, my lips brushing her ear so no one—especially not her parents—overhears. “What I want is you in my bed, with us warming each other up.”
She laughs softly, the sound sending heat straight through my frozen veins. “That can be arranged, but right now…” She pokes me in the side again. “Sing.”
So, I grumble, drag the book back out, and half-heartedly join in. But the truth is, somewhere between “Deck the Halls” and “Silent Night,” I’m not thinking about my lack of pitch. I’m thinking about how, in just one week, Jaylynn has somehow dragged me into a whole new life.
Ugly sweater contests, storefront decorating, wrestling a stubborn oversized star out from under a stage, then assembling the life-size nativity set in town square with her dad.
Arts and crafts with kids sticky from hot cocoa and marshmallows.
Teaching ankle-biters how to skate. Family dinners where laughter was louder than the clatter of forks.
Hockey games on the frozen pond that ended with everyone breathless and rosy-cheeked.
And then there’s my team. The guys blowing up our group chat, wanting to know all about my fiancée.
Rip demanding proof of life. Roman insisting ‘pics or it didn’t happen’.
For the first time in forever, their chirps didn’t feel like noise.
They felt like…invitations. Like maybe I wasn’t just skating on the outside, waiting for the call to pack my bags.
A smile tugs at my mouth before I can stop it. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere, and hell, maybe a part of me didn’t want to. But something’s shifting.
And let’s be real. Jaylynn is the reason.
But…reality check. Getting close to her, to this family, to these teammates, only to lose it all if I get sent back down? That’ll gut me.
Still, standing here, singing off-key with her shoulder pressed into mine, my breath mixing with hers in the cold air, I know one thing with bone-deep certainty. Every ridiculous, festive, uncomfortable thing she’s made me do this week…I loved it.
And the scariest part?
I loved it because of her.
Fuck. What is happening to me?
I don’t know. I only know what the next two days will bring.
Me in a Santa suit and the lighting of the town’s Christmas tree, and making better memories for Jaylynn.
I want to overwrite the humiliation Dylan dumped on her that night years ago, when he left her crying on the stage, laughter in the air instead of applause for all her hard work with the festival.
If it kills me, she’ll have new memories, ones that wash those old painful ones away, forever.
“Oh, we have to go to Penn’s house,” Judy says, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold.
My head lifts. “It’s too far to walk,” I remind her. We’ve been making our way through the downtown blocks, but Aunt Elaine’s place is miles away. No way we’re dragging everyone through the snow and ice.
“Come on, son.” Will throws his arm around me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Son.
My heart stutters and suddenly it’s a little harder to swallow.
“You’re family now,” he says again, with that simple conviction that always rocks me back on my heels. “And we have to sing to family.”
Do we, though?
I don’t say it. Instead, I stand there, feeling foolish—and maybe a little raw—for loving the way this man treats me. Not just like his daughter’s fiancé. Not just like a guy passing through. Like a son. Like the father I never had, and never let myself admit I wanted.
And the craziest part is I already know I’m going to miss all of them—Jay’s big, loud, messy, rambunctious family.
I used to swear I liked solitude. Convinced myself it was freedom.
Maybe that was just the story I told to cover up the fact that I’d never been invited into something worth missing before.
“Oh right, I forgot you lived out there in the middle of nowhere,” Dylan cuts in, his voice sharp enough to scratch. He snorts, then pretends to think, tapping his temple. “You lived with… what was it? Oh, that’s right. Your aunt, Elaine.”
“Yes,” I answer through clenched teeth. He’s got that familiar smirk on his face.
The same one I remember from high school.
He’s winding up for a punchline, ready to drag me down in front of her family.
But here’s the thing. I’m not a teenager anymore.
And I’m not about to let Jay watch me snap and give Dylan what he wants.
As if she senses the storm brewing inside me, Jaylynn slips her hand around my arm. Her touch steadies me, tells me. Not who Dylan tries to paint me as, but who I really am.
“Come on,” she says lightly. “We’ll drive out with Mom and Dad.”
“Dylan, I’m cold,” Sloane whines at his side, tugging at his sleeve. “Can we just go home? You can warm me up.” Her smile is filled with promises, but he doesn’t take the bait.
Dylan shakes his head, puffing up like he’s so fucking important. “It’s Christmas, Sloane. As mayor, it’s my obligation to be here for the people.” Then, to her, “Why don’t I drop you at my parents’ place and I’ll meet you there later?”
“Fine,” she huffs, then Dylan tilts his head toward Jaylynn.
“Jay, you can ride with me if your father’s car isn’t big enough for everyone.”
Like hell she will.
I wrap an arm around Jaylynn’s waist and pull her flush against me. “There’s plenty of room,” I say, voice low, even, deliberate. I meet Dylan’s eyes and don’t blink. “She’s with her family. Where she belongs. And there’s no need for you to drive out to Elaine’s.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dylan fires back, his smirk stretching wider, like he knows exactly which buttons to push.
My jaw locks so tight it aches. Because what I want more than anything in this moment is to rearrange his smug face with one clean right hook. But I fight it, for Jaylynn. She doesn’t want that from me.
Instead, I climb into the back of Will’s vehicle with Jay pressed to my side. Will blasts Christmas songs, everyone singing at the top of their lungs. Everyone but me. Because while they sing, I’m stewing. Not just at Dylan’s digs or his smirk.
No.
I’m stewing over the question that won’t leave me alone. What the hell is Dylan up to? He can mess with me all he likes, but if he fucks this up for Jaylynn or hurts her heart, or her chances at pulling this off and getting the job of her dreams, I’ll destroy him.
Every now and then I catch the way Jay’s eyes flick toward me—soft, worried, protective.
She senses it too. Dylan’s circling, looking for cracks to pry apart.
I give her hand a squeeze, trying to reassure her, even though the truth is I’m wound tight as barbed wire inside.
The last thing I want is for him to ruin this festival for her.
“Penn,” Will calls from the front seat, catching my eye in the rear-view mirror. His chin jerks toward the town square. “Check it out.”
I follow his line of sight to the massive nativity set standing proud in the middle of town. My grin spreads when I see the big star—the same one that started it all. The storm. The country club. The night that changed everything.
Jaylynn glances at me, a smile on her face and I know she’s thinking the same things as I am. She leans into me and whispers, “If only we could have bottled that night so it would last forever.”
I nod, my heart pounding a bit harder as my gaze strays to the wooden panel on the nativity set. It looks broken, the box underneath leaning wrong.
“Looks like the winds knocked it around. Maybe you and I can grab a hammer tomorrow and patch it up.”
My stomach knots. A hammer? I couldn’t hammer a nail straight if my life depended on it. “Uh, yeah, sure,” I manage, my throat tight. The old familiar shame prickles under my skin—never handy enough, never skilled enough.
Jaylynn feels it instantly. She threads her fingers tighter through mine, her thumb brushing the back of my hand. That one small touch tells me she doesn’t give a damn about my useless hammer skills. Does that mean to her, I am enough?
“I really hope Elaine will join us for Christmas dinner,” Judy chimes in, her voice bright with genuine warmth.
I shrug, trying to keep it light. “She’s set in her ways. Crowds aren’t her thing. But…I’ll ask her.”
We head toward the edge of town, and my chest grows tighter with every mile.
Other cars are already parked outside Elaine’s place, headlights cutting through the dark.
A lump rises in my throat. It’s not shame—not exactly.
It’s just… this house, this woman, this life—it’s mine.
And the idea of Dylan standing on this porch, peering into the corners of my world, makes me want to barricade the door.