Summer
Ethan is taking Mia and me out for lunch.
He straps Mia carefully into her princess car seat, tugging on the buckle twice just to be sure it is secure, then rounds the truck and climbs behind the wheel.
When he turns the key, cheerful music bursts from the speakers, bright, bouncy, unmistakably Mia’s favorite cartoon soundtrack.
Before I can tease him about it, Ethan starts nodding along to the upbeat rhythm. Mia joins him, bopping her little head and kicking her sparkly boots, and the sight hits me straight in the chest.
Then Mia starts to sing, her tiny voice high and sweet, and two seconds later Ethan joins in like it is completely normal for a six-foot firefighter cowboy to duet with a four-year-old princess. He knows every word. Every lyric. Every ridiculous key change.
When the high notes come, he exaggerates them just to make her laugh, eyes widening comically as he forces his voice up two full octaves. Mia bursts into giggles, delighted, and something inside me cracks open.
He has her playlist on his phone.
He knows the words.
He wants her to laugh.
And suddenly I know in my bones that I am not letting Kevin take this from us. Not now. Not ever.
So I breathe out, smile, and sing along with them. Mia’s grin somehow gets even bigger, and Ethan reaches over, finds my hand without ever breaking tune, and brings my knuckles to his lips.
My heart flips.
The bell above the diner door jingles as we walk in, letting in a swirl of cold air and the smell of frying onions and cinnamon rolls.
The place is busy, ranch hands at the counter, a couple bundled up in thick coats near the window, the Christmas tree in the corner glowing warm and golden.
Ethan places a hand on the small of my back, guiding Mia and me toward a booth like he always does, steady, protective, without making a show of it.
Mia climbs onto the red vinyl seat, bouncing once before settling, her little boots knocking together under the table. Ethan hangs his hat on the hook, slides in beside her, and hands her a menu even though she cannot read half of it. She beams like she is making very important life decisions.
“Milkshake?” she asks Ethan, eyes big and hopeful.
He taps her nose. “After lunch, bug. Real food first. Your mom will throw me in a snowbank if I fill you with sugar.”
I roll my eyes. “He is not wrong.”
The waitress comes over, Patty, who has worked here since the Jurassic period, and she lights up the second she spots Mia. “Well, if it is not our little Christmas angel. You want your usual?”
Mia nods, swinging her legs. “And ketchup.”
“You got it, sweetheart.” Patty scribbles, then turns to Ethan and me. “Burgers?”
Ethan grins. “You know us too well.”
While she walks off, the warmth of the diner settles around me. The chatter, the plates clinking, the smell of grease and hot coffee, it is ordinary, but it feels like home. Like safety.
Mia chatters without taking a breath, about her friend who lost a mitten in the snow, about her teacher’s sparkly earrings, about the Christmas craft she made that had “too much glue but it is okay.” Ethan listens like her stories are national-level importance.
He nods at all the right moments, eyebrows lifting, mouth curving into a soft smile that makes something in my chest unclench.
When our food arrives, he helps Mia cut her burger into tiny bites, and she leans into him like she has known him her whole life. Maybe she has, not in years, but in the way kids just understand who is safe. Who loves them.
I watch them, the way Ethan wipes ketchup off her cheek, the way she giggles when he steals one of her fries, the way he looks at her like she is a miracle he gets to keep witnessing. And I feel it again, that fierce, bone-deep certainty that this man is one in a million.
Ethan glances up and catches me staring. He does not tease, does not look away. Instead, he reaches across the table, palm up. An invitation.
I slide my hand into his, and he brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss across my knuckles. Gentle. Sure. Mine.
My throat tightens.
Every day, I think I cannot possibly love him more.
And every day, he proves me wrong.
Later that evening, I am tucking Mia’s letter to Santa carefully into my purse when Ethan walks in. Everyone is here, Cas, Penny, Grace, Caleb, Dex, Jude, Jace. The whole Hawthorne clan packed into Lily and Josh’s living room.
“My babies all in one room,” Lily beams.
“We are all grown, Mama,” Jace laughs.
“She was talking about you, you big baby,” Dex shoots back.
Josh claps his hands. “All right, let us load up. We will meet in front of Summer’s shop for hot cocoa and marshmallows before the carnival.”
We pile into trucks. The air outside is crisp and smells like pine and chimney smoke. The streets are lined with twinkling lights, the whole town glowing with Christmas.
When we reach my shop, I hurry to unlock the door, flip the lights, and everyone gasps.
Yesterday, after closing, I pushed all the small tables together into one long farmhouse-style row.
I draped it with red and white gingham runners, then strung warm Christmas lights in looping patterns above them.
Ribbon-tied jars of marshmallows and candy canes line the center.
Sugar and vanilla swirl through the air as the speakers hum to life with old Christmas classics.
It feels like magic.
Like belonging.
Like home.
“Summer, sweetheart,” Lily breathes, stepping closer. “You outdid yourself.”
“This is nothing compared to the help and love your family has shown me,” I whisper.
Lily shakes her head and cups my cheek with a gentle hand. “What are you talking about your family? You are part of this family now. Family takes care of family.”
I blink hard, throat tightening.
Josh joins her. “You thought we only adopted Mia? Sugar, you have been one of ours since the day you stepped into our home. Even before you started dating my son.” He grins. “I could not wish for a better woman for him.”
Warm arms slide around my waist from behind, grounding me. Ethan presses a kiss to my cheek, and my eyes sting.
“Who wants hot chocolate?” I call out, my voice wobbling.
The whole family cheers.
We scatter around the long table, wrapped in golden light.
Dex flicks marshmallows at Jace, who pretends to be outraged but eats every single one.
Penny helps Mia build a whipped cream mountain on her cocoa, while Cas sneaks extra chocolate chips into Ethan’s cup.
Grace and Lily laugh so hard at Caleb’s story about Jude trying to untangle Christmas lights that Jude actually blushes.
Mia dances between everyone, bright, safe, adored.
And I stand there, hands warm around my mug, heart stretched so full it hurts, watching a life I never thought I would have.
A life Kevin could take away with one stamped document.
The fear sits behind my ribs like a shadow, but Ethan catches me watching Mia, his eyes softening. He crosses the room, touches my waist, and presses his forehead to mine.
“You are safe,” he whispers. “Both of you. We are not losing this. I swear it.”
I nod, inhaling cinnamon, cocoa, and the familiar warmth of him.
I really want to believe him.
By the time the parade ends, Mia is fighting sleep with every blink. She makes it two steps toward the truck before her little head tips against Ethan’s shoulder, her hat sliding over one eye again.
“She is out,” Ethan whispers, his voice soft like he is afraid to wake her.
I run my hand down her back. “Long day.”
“Best one,” he murmurs.
He shifts her gently into his arms, her cheek pressed to the thick layer of fleece on his jacket, her tiny mitten clinging to his shirt collar even in sleep. His whole body softens around her. Protective. Careful. Like she is the most precious thing he has ever held.
We walk through the snow-dusted parking lot to his truck, our steps quiet, our breath visible in the cold. The world feels hushed, like the night itself wants to keep this memory safe.
Ethan opens the back door and moves slowly, so gently, as he buckles her into her princess car seat. She barely stirs, just sighs and curls deeper into the pink blanket he tucks around her.
I love watching him with her.
I love it so much it hurts.
The drive home is quiet. Mia sleeps the whole way, and Ethan rests one hand over mine on the console, his thumb tracing slow circles that keep me breathing.
When we reach his parents’ ranch, he kills the engine and comes around to get her. Snowflakes cling to his hair as he lifts her against his chest again, her little face tucked under his chin like it belongs there.
We climb the steps as silently as possible. Inside, the heater hums softly, and the Christmas lights I hung on the railing cast a warm glow over Ethan’s shoulders as he carries her up to her bed.
He lays her down like she is made of something fragile and sacred. A kiss to her forehead. A soft brush of her curls away from her cheek.
And then he turns to me.
We walk downstairs together, but as soon as I open the front door to walk him out, everything inside me cracks. The cold air hits my face and I break.
Ethan barely steps onto the porch when the first sob slips out.
His head snaps toward me. “Hey, come here.”
I fold into him before I can think. His arms lock around me, strong, sure, warm. He holds me like he is holding up the entire world.
My voice shakes. “I am so scared, Ethan. I cannot… I cannot lose her. I cannot lose this.”
He cups the back of my head, pulling me in tighter. “Listen to me.” His thumb sweeps my cheek, catching tears faster than I can spill them. He searches my eyes, steady and fierce. “We will fight them with everything we have got. Every lawyer, every resource, every ounce of strength we have.”
My breath catches.
“But,” he whispers, voice dropping low, “if it does not end like we want… we run.”
I freeze. “Ethan…”
“You, Mia, and me.” He presses his forehead to mine, grounding me. “I mean it, Summer. I do not care where. I do not care how far. If they try to take her, we go.”
My tears spill harder. “But you love it here. You told me you would never leave Lander.”
He smiles softly, painfully, like the truth hurts but he would still choose it. “The only thing I could never live without is my two girls.”
My chest cracks open. He brushes a soft kiss to the tip of my nose, tender in a way I thought men only were in books.
“I have money saved,” he murmurs. “Enough to disappear if we need to. We will change our names. Start fresh. Someplace we are safe. Someplace Mia grows up happy and free.”
I flinch. “But your family. Ethan, I could never make you leave them behind.”
He takes my chin gently and lifts my face back to his. His eyes are steady. Certain. Unshakeable.
“You and Mia are my family now,” he says. “Whatever it takes to keep us together. No matter the cost.” His thumb drags across my cheek again. “Trust me?”
My breath trembles out of me. “I hate them,” I whisper, every ounce of fear, helplessness, and rage spilling out at once.
His expression softens in that way that always breaks me open. “I know, baby. I am sorry. I am so damn sorry.” He pulls me against his chest, arms banded around me like he will never let go. “But you are not alone. Not anymore.”