Eight
Theo
T he line for Santa winds through the town square, weaving past booths stacked with artisan goods.
Isla, Jovie, and I are caught in a blur of colorful coats, wind-flushed cheeks, and wide-eyed anticipation.
The warm aroma of roasted chestnuts and spun sugar permeates the air, unleashing a wave of nostalgia.
It hits hard—even for a Grinch like me.
Jovie skips ahead, twirling to a mash-up of a nearby carousel’s lullaby and a jazzed-up “Jingle Bells” blasting from the main stage.
The sparkling garlands draped overhead catch the sequins on her coat, scattering light in every direction.
Powered by her frosting-fueled high, she’s fireworks personified .
“Reindeer! Reindeer!” She points toward the massive wooden sleigh at the head of the line where carved statues of Rudolph and his crew stand on guard. “Can I pet them?”
“Soon, sweetheart.” I catch her mittened hand, steadying her before she barrels straight into the stroller brigade ahead of us. “Almost there.”
We’re five families away from meeting the big guy in red. Jovie’s countdown started at twenty. An hour in, her math skills are still going strong. Her patience, on the other hand, is fading fast.
“Can Santa bring me a unicorn?” She jumps so high I’m starting to suspect her boots are spring-loaded. “One with wings and a sparkly horn that shoots out hearts?”
“Like Stardust?” I ask.
My sister has been keeping me in the loop on Jovie’s latest cartoon obsession about a globe-trotting unicorn that teaches kids problem-solving skills, emotional resilience, and how to sparkle with confidence.
There’s a theme song. And catchphrases. I’ve been forced to perform both on numerous occasions.
“Yes! Just like Stardust!” She beams up at me. “But not too big. She has to fit in my bed so we can snuggle.”
I let out a low whistle, eyeing the determined set of her chin. “You’ve thought this through, huh?”
On my other side, Isla huffs out a quiet laugh. “You know,” she says, crouching to meet Jovie’s twinkling gaze, “Santa has a lot of skills, but a real unicorn might be a stretch—even for him. What would you say to a stuffy version instead?”
“ Umm …” Jovie scrunches up her nose in consideration. “Can it still fly?”
“Of course,” Isla says gently. “I had one growing up. I’d snuggle it tight at bedtime, and it would fly me to magical dream worlds. Every night was a new adventure.”
Jovie nods. “That sounds like fun.” She pauses, eyes narrowing. “Yes. I’ll tell Santa about the stuffy. But I’m still asking for a real unicorn, too.”
I blink, impressed. “Did you just negotiate a two-unicorn clause into your Christmas contract?”
“Smart move.” Isla taps the pompom on Jovie’s hat. “You take after your uncle’s business savvy, huh?” she says, glancing over her shoulder at me.
As our eyes meet, my niece launches herself at Isla with a tackle-hug fierce enough to make a linebacker flinch. Isla reacts quickly, shooting her hands out to catch Jovie. They collapse on the ground in a giggling heap, Isla’s ass taking the full brunt of Jovie’s enthusiasm.
Their laughter rings out through the cold air, piercing a part of me I keep firmly on lockdown.
Before I can fully process the warmth unraveling in my chest, the line shifts. Jovie scrambles to her feet and bolts, making a break for Santa.
“Get back here, little elf.” I catch her under the arms and swing her onto my shoulders. She squeals like it’s the best rollercoaster ride she’s ever been on.
I keep one gloved hand steady on Jovie while offering the other to Isla. It’s a simple, friendly gesture. The intention behind it is chivalrous enough: help her to her feet. But as she rises, her coat brushes mine—deep red against gray—and her cinnamon scent curls into my lungs.
Heat hits first.
Cold regret follows .
Jovie, still perched high on my shoulders, lurches forward, reaching for Isla.
The sudden shift in weight throws off my balance. I take a small step forward, and Isla’s palms fly to my torso to steady me—one landing on my chest, the other lower on my stomach. Even through thick winter layers, her touch burns.
The three of us are a tangled mess. And somehow, for one fleeting moment, I feel completely at peace.
“Jovie’s lucky to have you,” Isla whispers.
The softness in her eyes soothes an old, deep wound on my heart. One I’ve left unattended for way too long.
“You didn’t hesitate when Willow asked you to babysit.” Admiration laces her words. It’s a sound from another lifetime.
“I’d do anything for this kid,” I say honestly.
Jovie experiencing even a fraction of the pain I grew up enduring would destroy me.
The absence of a father’s love cuts deep.
Her sperm donor—the deadbeat doesn’t deserve the privilege of being called dad —abandoned her before she was even born.
As long as I’m breathing, my niece will never doubt her worth in this world.
“You’re so good at everything you touch. Of course you’d also be a natural child-whisperer. Do you—” She hesitates, biting her lip as if unsure whether to let the rest of the sentence out. “Do you want kids? Someday, I mean?”
“My past makes me hesitant,” I admit. “But when I think about my mom and Graham, I sometimes wonder if…with the right person—”
Don’t go there, asshole.
Shut up. Step back.
Her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip. “Ever come close to meeting the right person? ”
My pulse kicks up in warning. We’re standing way too fucking close for this conversation.
“No,” I lie, my tone sharper than necessary.
Her smile falters, but she instantly recovers, pulling up an even brighter grin. “I see.”
“How about you? Picked out any names for your future Greene-Thorne brood?”
Knowing my brother, he’d want a whole damn van full.
“I…” A burst of pink stains her cheeks as she bites down on her lip.
So, she has thought about kids with Asher.
Apparently, I’m a masochist, because I let myself picture it. The two of them, so bright together, building a life full of joy and sunshiny babies.
A searing surge of envy cuts through me, mixing with a possessiveness I have no right to feel.
You missed your shot.
Handed it to your little brother on a silver fucking platter.
“Santa!” Jovie wiggles on my shoulders, boots digging into my chest. “Santa! Santa! It’s our turn, Teddy! Let’s go!”
I lock my grip around her shins before she faceplants into Rudolph. As soon as I set her down, she bolts toward Old Saint Nick—or rather, Nicholas Nightingale—whose jolly “Ho, ho, ho!” snaps me back to reality.
Though Nick has grown out his white beard for the season, the belly is all padding. Despite trying to eat his way through half the Spoon & Slice menu on the daily, the town librarian is still a wiry wisp of a man.
“Come on, little lady!” His kind eyes crinkle above the rim of his silver glasses as he waves Jovie over, motioning to the space next to him. “Tell me what’s on your wish list! ”
She squeals as I lift her into the sled. Thankfully, Santa visits no longer require lap access. A much more inclusive—and hell of a lot less creepy—move.
As Jovie and Santa chatter like old friends, Isla pulls out her phone and drops into a crouch to preserve the moment. She expertly toggles between photo and video modes, capturing a variety of angles. We both know all too well how much it hurts Willow to miss any moments with her daughter.
“Last one! Big smile for Mommy!” Isla chirps, laughing as Jovie strikes another pose worthy of a red carpet. “Perfect!”
Nick chuckles, adjusting his fluffy red hat. “Looks like we’ve got a star in the making.” He grins and shifts his attention to Isla and me. “Your turn!” He pats the bench behind Jovie. “Get over here for a photo, you two.”
“Us two?” Isla frowns, lowering her phone.
“That’s right! Let’s snap a nice family picture, then I want to hear all about your list.”
“We’re good,” I bite out. “Too old for lists.”
“Oh, poppycock!” Nick chortles. “There’s no age limit on Santa’s magic.” He turns to Jovie. “Did you know I make grown-ups’ wishes come true, too?”
My naive niece’s mouth pops open in awe. “Really?” She bounces in her seat, evidently thrilled by the idea. “Tell him your wish, Teddy Bear!”
“Yeah, Teddy Bear .” Isla’s lips curl into a teasing smile. “Go on.”
“Seriously? You’re buying into his scam, too?”
“Santa’s no scam. Stop stalling and tell the man what you want for Christmas.”
Fuck me.
“Fine,” I mutter, sweeping my hand out in front of me. “After you.”
“Oh, no,” she says with a headshake. “It’s okay.”
“No?”
“He said family .” Taking a few backward steps, she begins to retreat. “So, you and Jo—”
“Get in the sled, Isla.” It comes out sharper than I intended.
She freezes, hazel eyes widening, glossy lips parting.
The air shifts, but it has nothing to do with the winter breeze blowing between us.
She hesitates, gaze darting between the sled and me. Then something in her expression shifts. Defiance eases into interest, which melts into submission.
My pulse stutters when she nods her agreement.
I have no clue what just transpired. The only thing I’m certain of is that it feels immoral to take pleasure in the additional layer of tension it brought on. It’s probably also criminal that I don’t simply delight in her surrender —I’m inspired by the damn thing.
Jovie cheers as we approach. Nick helps Isla in first, and I follow, trying to keep my distance. The tight quarters make the feat impossible. Our legs brush, and every nerve in my body flares to life.
Nick, never one to miss the subtlest of details, flashes a sly grin my way. “Wrap your arms around your lady, son, so we can take a proper picture.”
I stiffen, jaw clenching as I shoot him a warning look.
The bastard winks in response.
“Hurry!” Jovie twists around, her little hand tugging insistently at the sleeve of my jacket. “Santa can’t wait! He needs to get my unicorn!”
Isla shrugs one shoulder, as if to grant consent. “You heard the boss. ”
Inhaling sharply through my nose, I shift closer, letting my arm settle around her shoulders. The curve of her body fits too perfectly against mine, and for a fleeting second, my self-control wavers.
Her trust feels like a sin.
“Everyone say: candy canes !” Nick instructs, flipping Isla’s camera to selfie mode. “Let’s do sleigh bells next. Good. Last one— reindeer games !”
Isla adjusts her posture, tilting her head just enough for her temple to brush against my shoulder. The contact is feather-light and innocent, but it shifts my world off-axis. Heat skims up the back of my neck as I fight to keep still.
Being this close to her is a twisted kind of torture.
Nick’s voice comes from some distant place, urging me to quit scowling. I muster a passable smile, but my focus is shot. Isla laughs beside me as Jovie hams it up in front of us. Their voices disappear under the loud hammering of my heart.
“Okay, got it!” Nick announces, lowering the phone. “Now, who’s ready to share their wishes?”
“All done with wishes.” I spring out of the sleigh, scooping Jovie into my arms.
Keeping my gaze locked straight ahead, I ignore the pull to glance back at Isla. The ache in my chest dares me to push past resolve, but I won’t risk reading too deeply into the look in her eyes.
And I definitely can’t allow her a glimpse of what’s written in mine.