"We're not alone, we have each other." My mother's voice came from over my shoulder, and I turned to find her standing there, lovely and tall as ever.
"Mum." I stood and hugged her, noting the thinness of her frame, the way she clung to me longer than I would have expected.
"Happy to see you, son," she said. "Merry Christmas." She stepped back and looked up at me, her eyes scrutinizing my face, picking out details I wasn't sure I wanted her to see. "You're sad," she said. She'd always been able to see through me. It was one of the reasons it was sometimes easier not to be around her. "Someone has broken your heart, too."
"I broke my own heart," I told her. "I didn't listen well enough when the girl told me she didn't want me."
"In my experience, women are rarely good at saying exactly what they want. I have no doubt this girl is regretting her decision even now." Mom sat down and signaled for tea.
We spent an hour eating and catching up, and then Mom surprised me. "We're ready," she said. "Let's go see this mountain home you love so much."
I'd written one letter and mentioned Kings Grove to each of them maybe once on the phone. But I did love the place, so maybe that had seeped through between the lines of my writing, whispered from beneath my words. "You want to go to Kings Grove?"
"It's part of why we came," she said. "To see your new home."
Her use of the word home rubbed me a little wrong—hadn't I been in the midst of feeling aimless and unanchored? But sitting here with my family after all these years, I did feel my soul yearning to get back to the clear air, the big trees, the warmth of my adopted village. I even found I wanted to show it to them. "It's a drive," I told them.
"Let's go," my brother said.
Mom insisted we pick up groceries for a proper holiday dinner as we drove through the last major town before turning up toward the foothills, and I found myself feeling better about everything. The pain of my misunderstanding with Annie would haunt me, I was sure, and seeing her would be difficult in the face of my dashed hopes. But this was Christmas, and I had my family with me. I wouldn't be alone.
14
Annie
Despite the bright, cool weather, despite the twinkling lights on every house, and despite the cheer everyone around me seemed to feel, I didn't want to celebrate Christmas. As Christmas day approached with snow in the forecast, Dad and Johnny both seemed happier than I'd seen them in years.
I wanted to join them in their cheer—Johnny seemed to be settling, finally. Though he was not a naturally calm and easygoing person, the meds and his avoidance of his triggers were helping. His paranoia wasn't gone, but he thought he could control it now that his life was mostly stable.
My heart didn't feel cheery, and it didn't feel stable.
The more I thought about Tuck's departure, the worse I felt about everything.
Why hadn't I been honest with him? Why had I pushed him away?
I had no idea when he'd gotten on a plane or how long the flight would be, but as we neared the time when I needed to get dressed to go to Cam and Harper's for Christmas Eve dinner, I sent him a quick text, unable to help myself. Tuck, thank you for the movie. It's perfect. And I'm sorry. For everything. Merry Christmas.
It didn't say what was in my heart, not really. But what good would it be to tell him I'd been blind when he was already thousands of miles away? There was nothing I could do.
"Ready?" Dad asked at four, standing in his best slacks and the ugliest Christmas sweater I'd ever seen. It had pompoms hanging off of it, and Dad informed me there was actually a button in one of his sleeves that activated twinkling lights.
"That's awful," I said, unable to lie.
He grinned.
The three of us bundled up, loaded our arms with the wine, food, and gifts we were contributing to the festivities at Cam and Harper's place, and walked the short distance to the house. We climbed the driveway, and my heart stopped as we topped the little rise. Tuck's car was here.
Tuck was here.
I shoved the wine I held into my father's overfull arms. "I'll be there in a minute. I need to do something first."
"But . . . okay," Dad said, watching me with his mouth open as I nearly sprinted toward Tuck's front door.
I knocked firmly, setting Zappy and Yoga Pants off in a wild frenzy of barking, but Tuck didn't answer. Wasn't he here? Where would he have gone?
I spun, staring up at the brightly lit house ahead of me. He must be at Cam's.
I hurried to the big front door of Cam and Harper's house and knocked.
Harper pulled the door open and stepped out to embrace me, a big smile on her face. "I thought you'd changed your mind when your dad and brother arrived without you!"
"Of course not," I said. "It's just, I saw Tuck's car, and I . . ." I trailed off, spotting an unfamiliar man just over Harper's shoulder, talking to Cam. He was practically a carbon copy of the man who'd taken up residence in my heart and mind, only, he had dark hair. "Who is . . . ?"
"Come inside," Harper laughed. "Meet Tuck's family."
Tuck's family? My eyes scanned the room, which was full of laughter and conversation as people ate and drank. “White Christmas” played somewhere in the background, and an enormous tree stood next to the tall windows up front, festooned in ornaments and glittering lights.
Maddie and Connor were laughing with Chance, Sam, and Mike near the tree, where Mike’s son Finn was investigating every ornament. Maddie's adorable baby bump was obvious now under the figure-fitting red dress she wore. Miranda was bustling through the space, handing out drinks to Adele, Frank, and Dean, who was sitting with his parents in a corner of the couch.
The older couple from next door, the Trenches, were here, his arm slung easily over her shoulders. And the dogs wove in and out of people's legs in excitement. There were plenty of other familiar faces mingling and chatting, and a few folks I didn't know.
There was the man who looked like Tuck, and next to him, a tall slim woman with striking features and blue eyes. And at her side stood Tuck.
I couldn't help staring—he looked so handsome in a dark-green button-down shirt with a crisp white T-shirt showing just above the collar. His dark jeans wrapped his long legs, and just the look of him made it a little harder for me to breathe. When I looked up to his face to find him grinning at me, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
He crossed the crowded space and stood in front of me with that warm smile before I'd had time to formulate words.
"Hey, doc," he said. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," I managed. My voice was strange and reedy. I swallowed and cleared my throat. I was going to need my voice. There was a lot I needed to say to this man. "Tuck, I—"
"Come meet Mum and my brother."
My mind spun as he took my elbow and steered me across the space to where they stood. His warm touch on my arm had my heart stuttering, and heat climbed my throat. How had I let him go? And why couldn't I manage a single word?
"Mum, August," Tuck said, pulling the attention of the strangers, who regarded me with friendly interest. "Meet Annie, the pet doctor I was telling you about."
"Hello, Annie," August said, reaching out to shake my hand. "It's a pleasure."
"Hello, dear," said Tuck's mother, squeezing the hand I managed to offer her despite my total inability to act like a normal person.
"Hi," I said, my mind suddenly blank as my stomach flipped. "Welcome to Australia," I said, earning me a questioning smile from all three of them. "I mean, it's a long trip. I mean, welcome to here from there."
"Take a breath, dear," Tuck's mother suggested as my cheeks threatened to burst into flames.
I stared at the floor and tried to get a grip on myself. Tuck's hand remained on my elbow.
"You okay?" he asked, leaning in and making everything worse with his gentle attention and the warm breath that tickled the side of my neck.
"Hey!" My brother's voice came from behind me, and I turned around. "There you are, man." He
grinned up at Tuck, clapping him on the back like an old friend. "Glad to see you. Merry Christmas. Sorry if I was a dick before."
Even my brother had apologized, I thought, as Tuck introduced Johnny to his family. I still hadn't managed it. When my brother strolled away, I tried again to say something appropriate to his family.
"It's so nice to have you visit," I managed finally, and a look of muted relief passed over Tuck's mother's face. She had probably been worried she'd be stuck in conversation with me all night, trying to make sense of everything I said. "I'm sure it was a long trip," I added.
"Just over fifteen hours," August confirmed. "Long enough to wish you'd had a better invitation at home."
"I didn't know you had an invite here," Tuck said, but his smile was huge, and he dropped my elbow to pull his mother to his side. "But you're always welcome."
"Tuck," I began. "Do you think we could talk for a minute?"
Tuck looked at me, something wary in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to answer as a bell began to ring from the middle of the space.
"Dinner is ready," Cam proclaimed. "Please grab a plate and help yourselves before it all gets cold!"
Everyone began moving around, putting drinks at spots on the long table, which was made up with silver and candles, and I realized my apology would have to wait.
Tuck looked down at me, his expression a mixture of uncertainty and disappointment, and then he covered with a bright smile. "We'll talk right after dinner, okay?"
The meal was a happy clamor of conversation, cutlery, and celebration. Voices rose and fell, laughter was abundant, and as plates were pushed away, Finn cried out, drawing everyone's attention. "It's snowing! Look!" The boy leapt up and rushed to the big windows framing the tree, and soon everyone was pressed up against the glass, watching as the first big, fluffy flakes of winter fell down around Kings Grove.
"It's beautiful," I said, without meaning to speak it aloud. The dark night sky glowed from the lights blooming from Cam's windows and deck, and each snowflake seemed to filter down from eternity, drifting lazily out of the darkness to sparkle brilliantly and settle on the ground, the railings, and the trees outside.
"Guess we got that white Christmas," Tuck said, appearing at my shoulder.
"I guess so," I breathed, loving the nearness of him. I was about to turn, to suggest again that we talk somewhere quiet, to do my best to apologize for my selfishness, for my words, my mistakes, but Harper was gathering everyone to the coffee table to play a game she called "Steal a Gift."
"That's the Christmas Spirit," Chance joked, but she shot him a look as everyone settled into spots on the couch, the chairs, and the rug and waited for Harper to explain the rules. Everyone took a number, and we took turns choosing gifts from the center of the table or stealing gifts from others who'd already chosen and unwrapped one.
It was fun, and the joke gifts a few people had brought made it even more hilarious, but I couldn't enjoy it fully. I watched Tuck across the table as he laughed and joked with his brother, and felt the hollowness in my chest where the warmth I'd shared with him had been.
As the evening finally wrapped up and families said their goodbyes and pressed out the door, bundled against the cold and steadily falling snow, I finally had my chance. I approached Tuck as he helped his mother into her coat. "Tuck, can we talk for a moment?"
He turned to me, his gaze still wary, and I wanted more than ever to clear the air between us, to tell him I'd been wrong, that my family was his, that I was his—if he wanted me.
"You go ahead, dear," his mother said. "August and I can set ourselves up. We've had enough practice moving into new houses at this point."
"Are you sure?" Tuck asked, looking at his brother.
"Go on, mate," August said. "Good night, Annie. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," I said, and, after assuring my own family that I'd be right behind them, Tuck and I thanked our hosts and walked outside and down to the deck of his little house as his brother and mother went inside.
The snow was falling hard around us now, and it made the world feel hushed and private. I struggled to find the words I wanted to say as Tuck's blue eyes held mine.
15
Tuck
Annie stood in front of me, her dark eyes shining as the snow fell thickly around us. I had no doubt the ground would be blanketed in the morning, and my heart felt just a little bit lighter at the thought of my first real white Christmas.
Having Annie in front of me helped too, though I didn't know exactly what she'd been trying to say to me all night. Part of me was glad to have put her off a few times—the last conversation we'd had still rang in my ears and pierced my heart if I thought about it too much.
"Tuck," she breathed, and I could hear that she was struggling to find the words she wanted. It made me want to lean forward and pull her into my arms, but that didn't seem appropriate, so I just stood, hands shoved deep into my pockets.
"I was wrong," she began, shaking her head slightly. "I know I hurt you. And when I discovered you'd left Kings Grove, I realized how wrong I'd really been."
I shook my head lightly. I hoped I knew what she meant, but I needed her to be crystal clear.
"When I thought you'd gone home to Australia—when I thought I might not see you again, I realized how sad that would make me," she said, and my heart lifted with hope. "You've become such a good friend to me." She paused and looked around, as if the words she wanted might be scrawled in the snow.
"That's not it though. I mean, I treasure your friendship, but you're more than that to me. More than a friend. When I'm with you, it's the only time I'm not thinking constantly about my responsibilities, about all the things I've always worried about. You make me feel like life can be fun, carefree—like maybe sometimes it's okay to let everything go and just laugh. You make me feel taken care of."
I smiled. "I'm glad, Annie. I'm happy we're friends, too."
She shook her head. "That's not what I'm saying." She wrung her hands, turning her head for a moment. Then she seemed to gather herself up as she took a deep breath and held my eyes. "Tuck, I think I'm in love with you."
Despite the fact they were the words I'd dreamed of hearing, I guess I hadn't been quite prepared to hear them. "What?"
She sighed. "I'm in love with you. I know I said you weren't part of my family, but I was wrong. You're part of what makes me love Kings Grove, part of everything up here that makes me love my life. But you're not just a part of it—you're the best part of it. When you left, I felt alone—like I'd lost my family, my place. My center. I'm sorry, Tuck. The things I said to you were wrong. I made you feel like you were secondary, and you're not. You've become fundamental for me, and if you're gone, I come undone."
She was crying softly now, tears tracking down her beautiful, dark skin. She dropped my gaze, seemed to gather strength, and then met my eyes once more.
"It's just . . . I thought it was all stuff you didn't want. I thought you liked your uncomplicated life, and I'm definitely not that."
She looked at me desperately, her eyes shining with tears, her mouth open slightly, and her breath coming in little puffs.
"Oh, Annie," I said, finally putting my arms around her and pulling her near. "I don't want a simple, quiet life. I want you. I want the complications of caring for you, of having to consider your desires and needs. I want the complexity of finding the way we fit together. Life might be simple on my own—it's easy to control everything when I'm the only person I'm worried about—but there's no joy in it. Life," I went on, "love . . . it's messy. And that's part of what makes it beautiful—the unpredictability of it." I smiled down at her, and the light shining from her eyes gave me the courage to say the words that had been in my mind for a long time. "I'm in love with you too, Annie."
She tilted her chin toward me as flakes of snow landed on her hat, her nose, her lips. Her beautiful mouth turned up in a little smile, and before I leaned in to kiss it, I whispered one more thing. "M
erry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Tuck," she whispered back.
I looked down into Annie’s eyes then, and felt everything inside me tighten in anticipation as she gazed up at me. When Annie looked at me, when she smiled, it was like the stars had come out just for me, like the world narrowed down to a laser point of focus. This, it said, this is your purpose.
Annie slid her arms around my back as I pulled her close in the frigid darkness. The snow was blanketing the world, and it was quiet except for the beating of our hearts and the rapid pace of our breath, coming in cloud-like puffs in the cold night air.
I lowered my head as Annie rose up on her toes, and everything in my world snapped firmly into place as our lips met. When her soft skin brushed mine, when she pressed herself against my body and her arms gripped me tightly, it was like the universe promised that this time, things would be different.
I felt complete—warm and whole—as I held her in my arms and showed her everything my heart was overflowing with. When she opened her lips slightly, and our tongues met, teasingly at first and then in a kind of dance, every cell in me ignited with certainty. It wasn’t only that this was the most complete I’d ever felt, or that I’d wanted this woman since I’d first met her. It was that for the first time in my life, I felt like I’d found the place I belonged, the person to whom I belonged.
Every fear I’d had about falling in love faded and time stopped as we kissed on that open deck at the edge of the wilderness, the massive trees standing by as witness to our new love. The cold night air ebbed and swelled around us as snow fell thickly, coating the trees and the houses, and blanketing the lives of everyone who lived in the little village with the promise of warmth and cheer—and a white Christmas.
Epilogue
Annie
Five Months Later
Christmas in Kings Grove: Kings Grove, Book 5 Page 8