12. Ashley #3
“Let’s go get some fresh air,” she suggested.
His jaw tightened, his teeth clenched. “Fuck this.” His hand flew out, swatting his haphazardly built gingerbread house across the table. It crashed into Taylor's pristine two-story house with a thud, collapsing her structure.
She sucked in a startled breath, her mouth falling open before her lips fell into a deep frown. Her entire body drooped, and Cole mumbled an apology before storming in the opposite direction of Marilyn.
Another cloud of silence descended over the room. No one moved to follow Cole. Not Gabe. Not Nate. Not even Grandpa. Tori sat back in her seat. Dad placed one last red hard candy on his gingerbread house, completing the outline, as if he hadn’t just detonated the room.
Ashley could only stare. This man looked exactly like her father, but she didn’t recognize him.
Her dad would never call his own nephew an asshole, no matter how much truth was behind the words.
He would have chased after Cole before letting him leave angry.
He would have apologized for upsetting everyone, even if he wasn’t the one who started it.
Instead, he just sat there applying candy to a gingerbread house as though something inside him had finally snapped and he didn’t give a shit.
“Ah,” he said, wiping his hands together. “I’m ready to be judged.”
“Henry, that wasn’t nice,” Eleanor said.
“Oh get off it, Eleanor. We all know you were thinking it. Unlike you, I don’t need to sit there looking all prim and proper, pretending like I’m civil while horrible thoughts are running through my head.”
“You’ve gone too far,” Uncle Rick jumped up.
“Have I?” He pushed his gingerbread house to the center of the table. “Or am I taking a page from Dad’s book and finally being honest with everyone?”
Grandpa glanced at him from the head of the table.
“You said some horrible shit, Dad,” he admitted. “Pretty awful, actually. But not a single thing that came out of your mouth was a lie.”
Nobody spoke.
“We all know it. It’s why we all disappeared until we had no choice but to come back. Because if we came back on our own”—he glanced around the table—“and forgave him, we’d have to admit to ourselves what he said was true. And none of us wanted to face our own demons.”
Ashley’s stomach tightened. He wasn’t just talking about the people around the table. He was talking about her, too. Her eyes drifted to Carter before Dad continued.
“It’s easier to live in oblivion and pretend everyone else is the problem. So.” He turned to Carter. “Round everyone up. It’s time to judge.”
Carter might not have had a seat at the table, but Dad was still finding a way to make sure he belonged.
Ashley stared at the man who looked like her father in every way possible, but something about him felt entirely unfamiliar.
There was steel beneath his skin. A don’t give a fuck attitude that she’d never witnessed before.
Maybe it had been there all along, hiding underneath the polished charm and easy smiles.
Maybe she’d just never seen beneath the man who’d spent a lifetime keeping the peace. How exhausting that must’ve been.
No one moved. Uncle Rick’s jaw remained tight. Aunt Eleanor appeared as if she were about to feign a headache. Taylor was still mourning the loss of her gingerbread roof. Even Gabe looked thrown, confirming he was just as confused as she was by their father.
Only Grandpa seemed unsurprised, sitting with a smile on his face and an approving nod in Dad’s direction.
Carter cleared his throat and approached Dad. There was no hesitation in his stride, no uncertainty. He’d stepped into the chaos as naturally as if he’d been doing this his whole life. “I’m not sure now is the best time to judge the gingerbread houses.”
“Oh, I think it is the perfect time.” He stood, brushing frosting from his fingertips. “If you wait for all of us to be holly and jolly, you’ll be judging from the grave.”
A laugh slipped from Ashley’s lips, and she placed a hand over her mouth, though she doubted the smile spreading across her face could be concealed.
“Seriously?” Gabe scoffed at her.
“What?” she asked, unable to keep the amusement from her tone. “He’s got a point. A valid one.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Dad said.
“Henry is right,” Grandpa said as he stood. “Gather the staff. Judging will commence in twenty minutes.” Grandpa looked at Taylor. “Enough time to do damage control, I hope.”
Taylor glanced up at him, a smile curving her lips as she nodded. “Definitely.”
“All hands on deck!” Grandpa said, just like Grandma Lily would have.
It didn’t matter that secrets still remained buried, resentment, anger and frustration still simmered dangerously close to the surface, and unresolved tension still hung in the air like a suffocating wall, all that mattered in that moment was helping Taylor salvage her gingerbread house.
She watched Carter disappear into the hallway to gather the staff. Even after everything that had just happened, he never hesitated. Winterridge was in chaos, and he simply kept it moving.