Chapter 23
Jaylynn
Dressed in my Mrs. Claus costume, I hurry through the chaos of the community center, my red skirt swishing around my legs.
Kids are darting between tables, volunteers are shouting orders, and somewhere in the back, a brass band is warming up.
It feels like I’m at the center of a snow globe someone won’t stop shaking.
Where the heck did I put my phone?
I nearly collide with Sheriff Reynolds. “Can you call my phone for me? I can’t find it, and I don’t have time to look.”
“Sure thing.” He pulls his cell from his belt and punches in my number. We both pause, scanning the echoing room. Nothing. The noise is so loud we wouldn’t hear a rocket launch.
“Thanks. I’ll keep looking,” I say breathlessly.
The parade is going to start in five minutes, and still no sign of Penn.
A knot of worry tightens in my chest. I almost ask the sheriff to call him, but then, right there.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of red velvet and snowy white trim disappearing into the back room. Santa. My Santa. Penn.
Relief surges through me so fast my knees go weak. He’s here. Of course, he’s here. If there’s one thing I know about Penn, it’s he’s dependable.
De—Penn—dable.
Oh my god, I crack myself up. If I had time to laugh I would. I’m already half-turned to go to him when Cassie barrels into me, her cheeks flushed. “There’s no candy on the daycare float. The kids can’t throw candy if they have no candy. Weren’t you supposed to handle that?”
My heart lurches. “Right. Yes. On it.”
I sprint to the locker room, find the massive bag of candy, and haul it out myself.
Cassie’s already vanished, juggling a dozen other fires, so I drag the sack to the float and start handing it out to eager little hands.
Just as I finish, Mayor Banks, dressed in his town crier costume, and moving at the pace of a snail, starts ringing his brass bell.
The sharp clang ricochets off the brick walls, signaling that the parade is about to begin.
The building erupts into motion. Families, volunteers, costumed performers—everyone floods out toward the street in a merry rush. Convinced Penn is among them, I climb aboard the last float and settle onto my bench, finally allowing myself to breathe.
The crowd outside is a blur of mittens and twinkle lights. I search through the faces until I spot Santa striding toward me. My chest unclenches. It’s been nonstop chaos all day, but now—now that Penn is here beside me—I can relax. Everything will be okay.
I wave at my mom and dad, who beam and wave back as they jockey for a spot along the curb. When I turn back around, I see Santa climbing up onto his seat beside me. My smile freezes. My pulse slams against my throat.
Dylan.
My stomach drops, the world tilting under me. “What are you doing here?” I manage to croak, the words scraping past the lump in my throat.
He adjusts the hat, smugness in every move. “Penn didn’t show, Jaylynn. Someone had to take his place.”
“What do you mean he didn’t show?” I lurch forward, panic clawing at me. “I need to go find him.”
His gloved hand clamps on my arm, pressing me back into the seat. “He’s not here.”
“Let me use your phone.”
“It’s in the locker,” he says flatly.
“I need—” I push to my feet, but the driver flicks the reins. The horse lurches forward, the float rolling, and I nearly topple. “Where is he?” My voice cracks, desperate.
Dylan only shrugs, his lips curving in a self-satisfied smile. “Beats me. But if I had to guess? After seeing us together last night, Penn finally realized what I’ve been saying all along. You and I are the ones who belong together. He probably stepped aside, gave us the space we need.”
My blood runs cold. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You said that last night too. But here we are. Penn’s gone, just like I told you he would be. He will always let you down, Jay. Always. You just didn’t want to see it.”
“No.” My denial is fierce, but it doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, the whisper of fear curling inside me. Where is Penn? “I need to get off this float.”
Dylan leans back with a smug little smirk. “Too late. The parade’s moving. So why don’t you do what you’re supposed to do?” He gestures to the crowd, his voice low and cutting. “Smile and wave, sweetheart.”
I turn my head and plaster on a smile, lifting my hand to wave as the float creaks along the snowy street. On the outside, I’m Mrs. Claus—warm, merry, picture-perfect. On the inside, I’m unraveling, scanning every face in the crowd, searching.
Where is Penn?
My heart insists he didn’t bail. Not on me. Not on this. Dylan has his fingerprints all over this mess. I can feel it in my bones.
“I’m the guy you can count on, Jaylynn,” Dylan murmurs at my side, his voice smug beneath the roar of holiday cheers. “The guy who’s here for you now, and will be here for you in the future.”
My stomach twists. I keep my smile fixed for the children lining the sidewalks, but my voice is tight. “Did you say something to him?”
“I didn’t need to.” He waves at a family in the front row like he’s the real Santa, like he owns this. “He sees how good we are together. That’s all it took.”
Anger pricks at the corners of my eyes. I refuse to let him see me break. “Do I need to remind you that you’re engaged?”
“Sloane and I broke up.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing, but my heart hurts for her. “There’s nothing standing in our way now. Not even Penn.” His grin slices through me, and I swallow hard against the bile rising in my throat. I really, really need a phone.
“Everything I said about him was right,” he adds smoothly. “He’s a thug. You’ll see soon enough.”
I turn away, my smile faltering but still there, because if I let the mask slip, the kids will see. And this moment—the lights, the joy, the magic of Christmas—isn’t mine to ruin.
The street is strung with twinkle lights, red and green bulbs glowing against the dusk. Wreaths sway from lampposts, the air filled with the scent of pine and hot cocoa. The crowd is beaming, faces lit with pure holiday wonder. Everything looks perfect. Everything should feel perfect.
But it doesn’t. Not even close.
When we pass my parents, I spot Jaxon with Rowyn at his side. Their smiles falter, confusion etching across their faces as they realize it isn’t Penn riding beside me. Whispers ripple through the nearby crowd, curious eyes darting toward me, toward us.
I close my eyes for a heartbeat, wishing the earth would open and swallow me whole. Just get me through this. Just get me off this float.
Dylan doesn’t notice—or doesn’t care. He keeps talking, spinning out his future as though it’s already written in stone. Him as president, me running his campaigns, the two of us unstoppable. His voice is a steady drone, a nightmare lullaby I can’t tune out no matter how hard I try.
Minutes stretch like hours until at last, the float lumbers into the town square.
The massive spruce tree towers above us, its branches heavy with ornaments, waiting for the moment the lights will blaze to life.
Children are bouncing on their toes, clapping their mittened hands, shrieking with excitement as they line up for their turn on Santa’s lap.
The driver pulls the reins, and the horse slows to a stop. The float shudders, and Dylan rises to his feet with a booming laugh, as though this is his moment. He leaps down, playing the role to perfection, reveling in the applause.
Then he turns, all gallantry, and extends his hand to me.
His smile is for the crowd, but the glint in his eyes is for me alone, warning me that if I do something, I could destroy any chance at a real career.
Every instinct in me screams to recoil. To refuse.
To let the world see just how false this is.
But the children are watching. Wide-eyed. Believing.
So, I swallow the revulsion clogging my throat, press down the panic clawing at my chest, and slip my hand into his.
For them, I play the part of the adoring Mrs. Claus.
Even though it feels like betrayal.
The crowd in the square is electric, humming with anticipation. Children cluster at the base of the towering spruce, their mittened hands clasped as they chant, “Santa, Santa!” A hundred little faces watching, waiting for magic.
Beside me, Dylan basks in it. He puffs his chest, waves like a celebrity, and soaks in the attention as though he earned it. He leans closer, his voice a low murmur. “This is our moment, Jaylynn. Don’t ruin it.”
I don’t answer. My heart is hammering too loudly, every nerve in my body stretched tight.
And then—I see him.
Penn.
He’s cutting through the crowd at the edge of the square, no costume, just jeans and his dark leather coat. His jaw is locked, his shoulders rigid. Anger radiates off him, a storm barely contained. For a heartbeat, relief crashes over me so fierce my knees weaken. He’s here. He didn’t leave me.
But when his eyes find Dylan at my side, his expression darkens.
“Jay.” His voice cuts through the chatter like a blade.
Dylan turns, his mouth curling into a smug smile. “Well, well. Speak of the devil.”
Penn strides forward, stopping just short of the float. Children squeal at the sight of him—some recognizing him as one of the town’s hockey heroes—but Penn doesn’t break his glare. His hands clench at his sides, the only sign of the restraint it’s costing him not to grab Dylan.
“What the fuck, Dylan?” Penn’s voice is low, dangerous. He’s trying, for the kids’ sake, but I hear the fury under every word.
Dylan spreads his arms, Santa suit gleaming under the lights, playing to the crowd. “Someone had to step in when you didn’t show. Can’t disappoint the children, right?” He smirks.
“That’s not how this happened, and you know it.” Penn’s chest rises and falls with a sharp breath, like he’s wrestling the urge to lose control. His gaze flicks to me, and that’s when I see it. Penn Bradford. Radman. Madman. The enforcer.