Chapter Sandy
SANDY
Snow still clung to the edges of the world outside, the kind that refused to melt even when the sky went pink with the setting sun.
Inside Sandy’s little house, everything smelled like cinnamon and sugar, and the tree she’d decorated alone the week before now glowed against the window, reflecting in the glass like something out of a memory she hadn’t let herself hold in years.
For the first time since her mother's death, she was ready to celebrate Christmas, and that had everything to do with the biker taking up space in her living room.
Nick was on the floor beside the couch, legs stretched out, an empty mug on the coffee table next to him.
He’d ended up here without either of them really planning it, and there was no way that she’d change anything about her current living situation.
If Sandy could use her Christmas wish to keep him there forever, she would.
One snowstorm, a few burned cookies, too many Christmas movies later, and he felt stitched into the walls like he’d always belonged there with her.
She wore one of his old flannel shirts that she found in his suitcase of things that he brought along with him to spend Christmas with her.
The sleeves rolled to her forearms; her hair was still damp from the shower and pulled up in a messy bun.
She never thought that she’d find a man she felt this comfortable with, but she had—Nick.
She felt at ease in a way she hadn’t ever felt before.
Sandy curled up at the other end of the couch, a blanket wrapped around her legs, watching the soft light from the tree catch on the lines of his face.
He wasn’t wearing his usual armor—no sharp edges, no guarded stare.
His walls were finally down, and she saw the real Nick.
He was still a little tired from their road trip and a whole lot undone from the rollercoaster that they had been on with his mother.
But they survived—together, and that was how she planned on doing everything in life now—with him by her side.
She just needed to get up the nerve to ask him to stay with her once Christmas was over.
“Do you always make too many cookies?” he asked, one brow raised as he eyed the mountain of sugar cookies cooling on the counter.
She had stayed up baking most of the night before, after they got home from the hospital.
Stress baking was her go-to move, and now, she had a biker with a hearty appetite to eat all the cookies she made. Honestly, it was a win-win.
“Only on holidays,” she said with a grin. “And sometimes on Tuesdays. Honestly, it depends on how much stress I’m under. If I’ve got a big deadline looming, I bake. So, yes, I make too many cookies every other week.”
He huffed out something that almost counted as a laugh. It made her chest warm. “I’m sorry if the hospital and my long-lost mother stressed you out, but I’m loving the sugar cookies, honey.” He had already downed a plate of them.
“I’m glad that you like them. And I’d go through all that stress again to be with you while you needed me.” She looked him over, hoping that he’d tell her just how much he needed her, but instead, he just nodded his head and shoved another cookie in his mouth, causing her to roll her eyes.
They had watched It’s a Wonderful Life earlier that day.
She’d half-expected him to make some sarcastic comment through the whole thing, but he’d stayed quiet.
She didn’t think he’d realized how tightly she’d held his hand during the end until she felt him squeeze back.
Now, the movie was long over. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the wind whispering against the windows.
Outside, snowflakes drifted down slowly, and Sandy knew that it was now or never for her to finally tell Nick how she felt about him.
She glanced at him again. “You know,” she said softly, “I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel alone on Christmas Eve.”
Nick’s head tilted, eyes finding hers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her fingers worried at the edge of the blanket.
“This used to be my favorite night of the year. My mom and I would stay up late baking cookies we didn’t need and singing Christmas carols until our throats hurt.
But after she died, it just felt hollow.
” He didn’t look away. Just listened, making what she wanted to say next even harder to get out.
“But this,” she said, nodding toward the tree, toward him, and toward the quiet warmth filling the house, “this doesn’t feel hollow.
” He smiled up at her, taking her hand into his own.
He didn’t say much, but he shifted closer, sliding up onto the couch beside her.
His arm draped across the back of the sofa, not quite touching her, but just there.
“Good,” he said simply. “’Cause it doesn’t feel empty for me either.” She leaned into him. Just enough to feel the solid weight of him against her side. For a long time, they just sat there, watching the lights blink, breathing in sync.
“I think that this is the part where I tell you that I’m falling for you, Nick,” she said. She let out the breath she was holding, and damn if those words didn’t tumble out too. He wrapped his arm around her and tugged her closer, until she was practically sitting on his lap.
“Well, that’s good, because I’m in love with you, Sandy.
I don’t need to fall—I’ve already fallen and all I can think about is how to ask you to spend the rest of your life with me without you telling me that it’s too soon to talk about things like forever.
” Honestly, it was too soon to talk about forever between them, but she didn’t care.
“After losing my mother, I learned that life can be fickle. If you don’t take what you want when you can, you might lose it and never get another chance at it again.
I don’t want to lose you, Nick. I don’t want to wait for my chance at love to come around again just because we’ve only known each other for less than a month.
Getting assigned to your story was the best thing that ever happened to me.
I just never planned on falling in love with Santa. ”
He chuckled, “Well, every Santa does need a Mrs. Claus,” he teased.
“I’m betting that Mace and Brandi will be thrilled to have both Santa and his Mrs. at the party next year.
That is, if you’ll marry me, honey.” He stood from the sofa and dug into his pocket, pulling out a small black velvet box.
When he popped it open to show the most beautiful diamond ring that she’d ever seen, she couldn’t help her gasp.
“When did you have time to buy a ring?” she asked.
“I stopped on my way to my place after the plows came through. I was damn lucky that the jewelry store was open after that storm. I knew then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Having you stick by me through all this shit with my mother only showed me that my instincts were right about wanting you to be my wife. So how about it?” he asked.
She swiped at the tears that fell down her cheeks and quickly nodded her head. “I’d love to marry you,” she breathed. He put the ring on her finger, picked her up, cradling her against his body, and carried her up to the bedroom. “What are you doing?” she squealed.
“I’m consummating the marriage,” he said.
“Um, I think that we do that after the actual vows,” she said.
“Well, I think that we should start practicing then, don’t you, honey?” he asked.
“I do,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck. She couldn’t wait to give him those same words when they exchanged their vows because all Sandy wanted now was to marry Nick—her Saint Nick, her Santa Claus, and the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
A fresh blanket of snow had covered everything while they slept, making waking up on Christmas morning magical.
The rooftops, the trees, the roads, even the sharp edges of the world seemed quieter beneath the thick blanket that fell through the night.
Sandy stood at the living room window, a mug of hot cocoa cradled between her palms, as she admired Mother Nature’s handiwork.
Christmas morning sunlight pushed through the glass in a hazy gold wash, warming the hardwood floors beneath her bare feet.
Behind her, the house smelled like cinnamon, butter, and coffee.
Her favorite Christmas records played low from the old speaker on the shelf, the sound crackling just enough to make it feel real.
Nick was sitting on the couch, his legs stretched out, an arm slung lazily over the backrest like he belonged there — like he’d always belonged there.
His flannel shirt hung open over a white T-shirt, his hair still damp from a shower, cheeks rough with the shadow of a beard.
It hit her then, quietly but completely—she wasn’t alone this Christmas, and she wouldn’t have to spend another Christmas alone again. Not the way she had been last year. Or the year before that. This time, someone was there with her—her someone, her Nick.
She turned from the window and crossed the room, curling up on the couch beside him.
He shifted easily to make room, his arm falling around her shoulders, pulling her in until her head fit against the warm, solid line of his chest. The steady beat of his heart filled the quiet spaces between the faint Christmas music.
“Morning,” she murmured.
Nick’s voice was rough with sleep. “Morning.”
She admired the engagement ring that he had picked out for her and smiled over at him. “Did I thank you for asking me to marry you?” she asked. She hadn’t given him his Christmas gift yet, and she was going to have to stall until one of the guys from the Road Reapers showed up with it.
“I believe that what you did last night was thanks enough, honey,” he teased, playfully swatting her ass. She giggled and leaned into him, giving him a quick kiss before getting up to resume her position at the window.
Mace had promised that one of the guys was going to deliver her gift to Nick by nine in the morning, and it was quarter past nine now. She worried that her little present was causing trouble for the biker, unfortunate enough to deliver her to Sandy’s house, but she was too excited to care.
Nick had told her that all he wanted for his sixth Christmas was a golden retriever puppy, and when Santa didn’t bring it, he knew for sure that there was no Santa.
He said that he had been extra good that year, to seal the deal with Santa to bring him a puppy, but instead, he got nothing.
But this year, she wanted to change all of that for him.
Sandy was lucky enough to find a golden retriever puppy up for adoption, about two hours from her house, and when she enlisted Mace’s help to get her, he quickly agreed.
He said that he owed Nick for playing Santa, and that he’d send one of the guys to grab the puppy and deliver her to the house on Christmas morning.
Sandy was a bundle of nerves waiting for the gift to show up.
“You’re up to something,” Nick said, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
She turned in his arms, hoping to distract him long enough to get him away from the window.
He stood in front of her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.
His hand came up, rough and warm, cupping her jaw like she was something he’d been holding back from touching for far too long.
“Me?” she asked. She looked in his eyes and noted the devilish grin on his lips.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, drawing her in.
The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate.
It was slow and deep and steady, like a promise that didn’t need to be spoken.
Outside, the rough hum of a truck’s engine told her that Nick’s gift had finally arrived.
But inside, she melted into him, and he into her, the world narrowing to just the two of them.
Nick broke the kiss when he realized that someone was there. “What the fuck is Cyclops doing in your driveway dressed as Santa, and holding a fucking puppy?” he asked. She couldn’t help but squeal and clap her hands.
“He’s delivering your Christmas gift,” she said. Sandy ran to the door and opened it, letting the biker wearing a Santa suit and eye patch into her home. “You must be Cyclops,” she said.
“Nope,” the big biker said. “Today, I’m jolly old Saint Nicholas,” he teased. “Merry Christmas, Nick,” he said, handing the squirming puppy over to Nick. “Congratulations, it’s a girl.” Before Nick could take the puppy, she peed on Cyclops’s Santa Suit, and he cursed.
“Sorry about that,’ Sandy said.
“It’s a rental,” he grumbled.
“I’ll cover the dry-cleaning costs,” Nick said, taking the puppy from the biker. “You got me a fucking puppy?” he asked Sandy.
“Well, you have been a very good boy, Nick,” she said, giving him a saucy wink.
“That’s my cue to take off,” Cyclops grumbled.
“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night,” he said on his way out the door.
Sandy yelled her thanks, and he waved back over his shoulder at her as he hopped into his pickup.
Poor Nick stood in the middle of the living room, holding the rambunctious puppy as though he was trying to figure out what to do with it.
“You really got me a puppy?” he asked. Nick looked like he wanted to cry, and Sandy already was.
“Is that okay?” she asked. “I mean, I thought that you and I both deserved some Christmas magic.” She held up her ring as evidence that he had delivered just that for her, and he cradled the puppy against his chest when she finally settled down.
“I’d say that we both got some Christmas magic this year, honey,” he said, crossing the room to pull her into his body.
“Merry Christmas, Sandy,” he whispered. “I love you.” Sandy’s breath caught, her fingers curling against his shirt. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed those words until they left his mouth.
For the first time in years, Christmas didn’t feel like a reminder of everything she’d lost.
It felt like the start of something new, and Sandy finally let herself believe that some stories don’t end in hollow spaces.
Some stories end right where they’re meant to begin.
That’s how it was with her and Nick. They had found their beginning with a story that she didn’t want to write, but was now so happy that she did.
He wasn’t just her news story anymore, though—no longer a headline.
Nick was her future, and because of him, she’d always believe in the magic of Christmas.