Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
VIRGIL
C hristmas morning arrives bright and painfully beautiful. Fresh snow blankets Deadfall Ridge. Every branch. Every rooftop. Every fencepost.
The world looks untouched, as if yesterday never happened. As if grief never existed, and people don't lose the ones they love.
I know better.
But Luke has other things on his mind. The kid launches himself from the couch at dawn. "Santa came!"
My eyes crack open. Every joint in my body immediately files a complaint. I slept in Bryson's recliner.
Not advisable.
The Christmas tree glows softly from the corner. Wrapping paper already litters the floor. Helen appears carrying a mug of cocoa.
"Merry Christmas, Vir-gull."
I grunt. Apparently, that's enough.
The next hour disappears beneath wrapping paper and excitement.
Luke receives a Batman action figure and nearly loses consciousness. Helen gets books, three of them. Exactly what she wanted. She immediately starts reading one before breakfast.
We eat pancakes. Drink too much coffee and hot cocoa. And for a little while, everything feels normal. Dangerously normal.
The front door bursts open around ten. Roscoe stomps snow from his boots. Behind him comes Ginger carrying enough energy for three people. "Merry Christmas!"
The children cheer. I immediately know trouble has arrived.
Ginger points dramatically. "You two."
Helen freezes. So does Luke.
"We're stealing you."
The kids blink.
"Stealing?" Luke asks.
"For fun."
"Oh." The boy relaxes instantly.
Roscoe sighs. “There’s a sleigh ride."
Now both kids are bouncing.
"A sleigh ride?" Helens asks.
"With horses?" Luke chimes in. "In the snow?"
Ginger nods.
"Can we?" Helen asks.
I nod, grinning from ear-to-ear.
Questions fly faster than bullets.
Ginger smiles. "That's the idea."
Within ten minutes, chaos reigns as they hurry into boots, coats, scarves, and mittens.
Luke somehow loses one glove twice. Helen finds it both times. The entire cabin feels alive.
I stand by the window watching the circus unfold. Across the room, Clara laughs. The sound catches me. Always does.
Roscoe notices. The bastard notices everything. His grin appears immediately.
I scowl.
It only makes him grin harder.
"Need something?" I ask.
"Nope."
"Liar."
"Yep."
I shake my head, grumbling under my breath. Acting grumpy has never been harder.
The kids finally bundle up and out the door. Luke looks like a snowman with legs. Helen rolls her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't stick.
Ginger herds them toward the sleigh. Roscoe follows. Then he pauses, looking at me and Clara. The grin returns.
"Woods are beautiful this time of year."
"Get out,” I mutter, heat rising up my neck.
"Might be gone a while.”
I scowl. “Roscoe."
He laughs all the way to the sleigh. A few minutes later, the bells begin jingling. The horses pull away. The sound grows fainter and fainter.
Until nothing remains except silence. The cabin suddenly feels enormous. Too quiet and still.
I clear my throat and immediately regret it. Clara looks up from the kitchen. Our eyes meet. Nobody speaks.
For the first time in six months, there are no children, no interruptions or emergencies. No excuses either. Just her and me.
The fire crackles softly. Outside, snow drifts past the windows. Inside, the air feels too warm. Too close.
"Well." The word leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
Clara laughs nervously. "Well."
I rub a hand over my beard, already wishing I'd said literally anything else.
A smile lingers on her face, small and mischievous. And suddenly I realize something. I'm not afraid of winter anymore, or what it’ll do to Clara and her kids. Not the storms or the ice, not anything that used to worry me.
The thing that terrifies me is the woman standing ten feet away in a red sweater, looking at me like maybe she's tired of pretending she doesn't feel it, too.
The cabin settles around us. All firelight, snow, and silence. For a while neither of us moves. Neither of us seems willing to be the first one to break whatever this is.
Clara finally wraps both hands around her coffee mug. "I didn't sign them."
I look up.
"The insurance papers."
Something inside my chest loosens. Not because I'm proud of it or because I feel like I won. Nope, because I know what it cost her to say it. "You don't have to decide today."
Her laugh comes out soft. "You've been trying to get rid of me for months."
I rub a hand over my beard. "Wasn't trying to get rid of you."
She arches an eyebrow. The woman has gotten entirely too good at calling me on my nonsense.
I sigh. "Alright. Maybe a little."
"Why?"
The question lands heavy. I stare into the fire. "The mountain's hard."
"I know."
"No." My gaze lifts to hers. "You know summer."
The words hang between us.
"I know winter." Her expression softens.
“Mild winters. Winters with Bryson.”
My words hang in the air. Her face falls with her gaze.
I inhale sharply, continuing before I lose my nerve.
"I know storms that bury cabins." I gesture toward the window.
"I know generators failing." Another gesture.
"Broken pipes. Sick livestock. Roads disappearing.
" My voice drops. "I know what happens when somebody gets hurt and help is three hours away. "
Clara doesn't argue. She doesn't interrupt.
"You were already carrying enough." The fire pops. Snow drifts beyond the glass. "I couldn't watch this place take you, too."
Something changes in her eyes, deep and vulnerable.
"You thought the mountain would win.” The words come out barely above a whisper.
I look away because the truth is ugly. The truth has been keeping me awake for months.
"Every time it stormed."
Silence.
"Every time you drove into town."
Silence.
"Every time one of those kids disappeared behind a tree." My throat tightens. "Every damn day."
The room goes still. I hadn't meant to say that much. Hadn't meant to say any of it.
Clara sets her mug down slowly. "Virgil."
Two syllables. Nothing more. Yet somehow it feels like a hand reaching across a divide.
I shake my head. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Make me say things I shouldn't."
Her eyes shine. "Why not?"
Because your husband was my friend. You're still wearing his flannel sometimes. Half the mountain probably thinks I've lost my mind. And because I already know what life looks like without you in it now.
The words stay trapped behind my teeth. But something must show on my face because Clara's breath catches. "Virgil..."
I stare harder into the fire.
Then I look up.
Big mistake.
She's already standing, already crossing the room. Already close enough that I can see the gold hidden in her irises. Close enough to remember exactly how she felt in my arms during the storm.
"You stayed." The words crack. "You stayed through all of it."
My chest hurts. "You would've done the same."
"No." She shakes her head. "I wouldn't have."
I frown. "You don't know that."
"Yes." Her voice breaks. "I do."
A tear slips down her cheek. "You kept showing up." The distance between us disappears completely. "Even when I pushed."
Another step.
"Even when I yelled." Another. "Even when I made it impossible."
I can feel her warmth now. The scent of cinnamon and coffee. Christmas. Home. Everything I never expected to want.
"I didn't know how to survive without him."
My eyes close briefly. "Clara?—"
"But I do know how to survive with you."