Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
CHRISTOPHER
A bby’s foot taps against the dashboard anxiously as we approach the long, tree-lined driveway of her boarding school. Abby is sitting shotgun with her phone buzzing on her lap, but she refuses to look at it, and instead keeps her eyes trained on the exit as she gnaws on her bottom lip.
“You know, if you keep biting your bottom lip like that you’re going to bleed.” I comment, my eyes darting between the road and her school. “Just say the word, and I'll whip this car around.”
Abby slumps back, looking out of the window. “I thought you said I had to go back?”
“I did, but if you’re not ready, I get it. Thanksgiving is only three weeks away, we could get your homework and take you back home.” I shrug, parking the car right in front of her dormitory.
The old bricks look like a whistle could bring them tumbling to the ground, and I almost regret ever bringing her here. I know I am raising a strong, independent girl, and I know I want her to tackle this head on, but the only thing worse than running is fighting before you’re ready. My chest squeezes at the thought of her coming back to me a little more messed up than before.
Her ginger hair is fading to brown, but falls in waves around her face, as she pulls her knees to her chest, forcing the vibrating phone to fall onto the floor of the car. “I’m ready,” she whispers, a small nod as she speaks. “ I mean I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Oh, I can tell by that smile and all that laughter,” I tease, leaning over and running my fingertips lightly along her sides. She twitches and bends, her giggles erupting uncontrollably as she squirms in her seat, desperately trying to escape the tickle onslaught.
Abby squirms and squeals, her laughter filling the car. She tries to bat my hands away, but she’s trapped in her seatbelt, her giggles bubbling uncontrollably.
“Uncle Chris!” she manages between bursts of laughter, her voice high-pitched with mock outrage. “Stop! I’m—seriously—I’m gonna?—”
I stop the tickle attack just in time, leaning back in my seat and grinning at her, feeling victorious. She gasps for breath, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright, and even though I know she’ll never admit it, I can see she feels lighter.
“That’s what I thought,” I say, folding my arms and giving her a triumphant nod. “You definitely needed cheering up.”
Abby narrows her eyes at me, with a smile on her face, despite trying to twist her lips in frustration. “You are the worst ,” she declares, pulling down the car mirror and adjusting her hair in it.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, still smiling. I lean over and press a quick kiss to her temple, and she doesn’t pull away, which makes my heart clench in that way only she can manage. “You’re ready, Abs. You’ve got this.”
“Actually, yeah, I do.” She replies.“And it’s not because you just tickled me! It’s because Josie gave me some good advice.”
“Did she now?” I try to hide the smile creeping onto my face, but Abby sees right through me.
“She said the mean girls here aren’t worth my energy,” Abby explains, crossing her arms with a smirk. “That I should focus on the things I do like. You know, stuff that makes me happy.”
My chest swells with pride, and I can’t help but reach over and ruffle her hair, earning a squawk of protest. “Josie’s a smart one. Glad you listened to her. But hey, I’m also pretty wise myself, right?”
Abby rolls her eyes, a small chuckle on her lips. “Sure, Uncle Chris. When you’re not trying to beat Josie’s advice with some boring inspirational quote.”
I hold a hand to my chest in mock offense, as I fish my wallet out of my pocket. “Boring? How dare you say that about the man who holds your lunch money in his wallet!”
“Just telling it like it is,” she shoots back, eyes twinkling as I slide out three a hundred dollar bills, and she swipes it out of my hand with a smile. She slides the money in her pocket, before taking a deep breath, her eyes softening. “I like Josie. She’s really good for you, you know.”
Her words strike me deep, making me pause. I glance over, our eyes meeting for a beat. Her approval means everything—hell, it’s the foundation of every choice I’ve made since she came into my life. As much as Josie has become my entire world, Abby’s happiness will always come first. She may biologically just be my niece but in all reality, she’s my daughter, even if she doesn’t call me Dad, we both know it.
I let out a slow breath, my grip tightening around the steering wheel. It’s true, though. I’d been terrified to introduce them, worried that Abby might not like Josie, even though I know in my heart there’s nothing about Josie that’s easy to dislike. But still, if they didn’t get along… if I had to choose…
I don’t know if I’d survive that choice. Because as much as I’ve always prioritized Abby, never in my life have I wanted someone the way I want Josie. It’s different, deeper than anything I’ve felt. I’ve never been obsessed with anything except hockey, but Josie? She’s in my bones, my lungs, under my skin.
I want her like I need air. I want her like she is my only salvation. I want her like she is something I’ve been waiting for my entire life. I fucking need her.
I love her.
I clear my throat. “Yeah?” I ask, keeping my voice steady. “You really think so?”
She nods, and her gaze hardens as she looks me in the eyes. “Yeah. She makes you happy, Uncle Chris. Happier than you’ve been in... a long time.”
I feel a lump forming in my throat, but I swallow it down, offering her a crooked smile instead. “Thanks, kiddo. That means a lot.”
She shrugs, her playful energy returning. “You’re welcome. Now hurry up and run back to your girlfriend ,” she adds with a dramatic wiggle of her eyebrows. “You’ve been dying to get back to her since we left!”
My jaw drops, and Abby bursts out laughing. “Hey now,” I protest, fighting to keep a straight face. “Who taught you to be such a little punk, huh?”
“Definitely not you,” she says between giggles, leaning over to kiss my cheek, before hopping out of the car.
I’ve never driven so fast in my life. My foot is heavy on the accelerator, and I weave through traffic with a reckless abandon I haven’t felt since my wild college days. The realization that I’m deeply, undeniably in love with Josie is a wildfire inside me, igniting everything in its path. I feel like a goddamn teenager again, like I’m breathing for the first time, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Every red light feels like a deliberate challenge, testing my patience. And if I weren’t so damn selfish—if the thought of Josie moving on, dating someone else after mourning me, didn’t claw at my chest—I might just blow through every intersection as if green lights were my birthright. But I don’t. Because I have to get to her, alive and whole, and claim what’s mine.
By the time I pull into the driveway, I barely remember to put the car in park. The front door swings open under my heavy hand, and I’m breathless, not from the drive but from the sheer need to see her. To be close. Rushing through the house, the smell of lemon and pine cones direct me to the kitchen.
Josie leans over the counter, her back to me as she cleans up breakfast, and I pause looking my girl over. I lean on the door frame for a moment, watching her every move, just like I did for a year between the time I first saw her at that winter showcase and transferring to Northbrook University. Her blonde locks are pulled up in a messy bun, with some strands framing her face. She's wearing my hockey jersey that reaches almost to her knees, which hangs loosely on her body, showcasing the smooth curve of her collarbone as the neckline slips off one shoulder. My oversized socks are bunched up around her ankles, but somehow my clothes look perfect on her.
She looks perfect, and happy, and mine. So fucking mine, that I’m struck silent, my heart pounding like I just finished a sprint on the ice.
Josie turns when she senses me there, her big eyes lighting up with surprise and warmth. “Chris? How’s Abby? You know I told her--”
I take a step forward, and I know I look half-crazed, still trying to catch my breath from rushing over here. I don’t even know how to put everything I’m feeling into words. So I just say the first thing that bursts out of me, raw and certain. “You’ll be with me for Thanksgiving.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and her spoon pauses mid-stir. “Thanksgiving?” she echoes, her lips twitch into a small smile. “Well, can my mom join us…I know this is so early, but she’s already coming and--”
“Yeah,” I murmur, stepping closer. The sweet, lingering aroma of cherries mixes with the familiar, earthy scent of my soap on her skin, a combination that messes with my head in the best, most dangerous way. My hands find her hips, and I ground myself, forcing down the wild energy coursing through me. “Whatever it takes.” My voice comes out rough, laced with an unmistakable edge—possessive, unwavering, the promise of a man who’s decided he’s never letting her go. “I need you there. I need you with me.”
Her lips part for a second, but then her expression softens, and a smile breaks through, beautiful and radiant, looking every bit like she belongs exactly where she is.
“Okay,” she whispers, eyes shining. “Well, I agreed to be with you for Thanksgiving, and you agreed if I waited until the morning that you would…you know.”
“I would…what princess?” I ask, leaning in forward to whisper in her ear.
Her breath catches in her throat as she shifts on her feet. “Your exact words were to leave me breathless, and promised that I would be begging you for more and more.” She twists to speak against my lips as she continues. “And you promised even when I felt like I was done, that my body would want you again, and again.”
A chuckle rolls through my chest, as I flash her my golden boy smile. “Well, your wish is my command, princess.”