Miracle Creek Christmas

by Krista Jensen

  He lifted his head. “The truth is, that day in the fire, I wasn’t thinking about being a hero. I was scared. But I followed Jay.”

  His eyes met hers again, and she knew he was reaching for her. For a friend. She nodded. He took a breath.

  “I followed Jay and borrowed his strength and his courage because he stopped at nothing—nothing—to get these boys”—he gestured to the six boys standing in front of the memorial—“to safety. To get them out. He paid the ultimate sacrifice, and I can tell you he’d do it again. I know he would. He was driven to keep people safe.” He raised his chin. “‘Courage is knowing what not to fear.’ Plato said that. Jay lived it. He was my friend. My brother.”

  He bit his lip, and Riley felt his struggle with his emotions. Then he leaned toward the microphone one more time.

  “He’s my hero.” He pulled back from the podium, and the crowd applauded, Riley clapping with them.

  Mark lifted his hand to the six boys, who each held a cord attached to the veil. They pulled at the signal, revealing a tall, redbrick pillar with a bronze plaque on the front. An image of Jay in his fire hat had been made in relief above his name and dates, and the quote Mark had just shared.

  Mark stepped to the microphone. “I know you’re all freezing, but thanks for being here today. The people of Miracle Creek have a way of driving out the cold.” He sat, and, after the applause died down, the mayor said a few words.

  Riley swallowed when Mark’s eyes found her again. She gave him two thumbs-up. He ducked his head, and she knew he smiled.

  “He did a great job,” came a voice close to her ear.

  Riley turned to see Dalton just behind her. “Yes, he did.” She suppressed the warning she felt rising inside her. Dalton hadn’t made any more advances toward her, and any interactions at work had been respectful.

  He folded his arms, leaning forward to speak quietly as the mayor wrapped up. “Must’ve been tough for him.”

  “He missed the funeral. I think this was something like that for him.”

  “Oh, yeah, that too.”

  She looked at him. “That, too?”

  Dalton frowned. “Oh, of course. I was thinking of, you know, being in front of a crowd like this. I mean, there are a lot more people here than in line at the bakery.”

  “I don’t follow you.” She suspected she did, but he couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying.

  “He’s just come a long way. You know, in showing himself.”

  The rising warning turned to irritation.

  He shrugged. “I suppose that has a lot to do with you. You have a way of making people want to be better. Try harder.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, and he smiled, almost humbly.

  People were starting to mill around now, the ceremony over. She noted a few people watching her and whispering behind their hands. “Speaking of making people want to try harder,” he said. “I was hoping I could make good on that promise I made you.”

  She searched for Mark in the crowd. He was surrounded by the rescued boys and their families. “What promise?”

  “To get to know you better. Sort of a do-over.”

  She turned to him, genuinely surprised.

  “I meant what I said that night, Riley.” He took a step closer. “I’d like to do less talking, more listening. Maybe take you to the firemen’s ball next week?” He raised his brow expectantly, his confident grin growing.

  Riley took a step back. As much as she suspected his sincerity, the idea of sharing the things in her head and in her heart with Dalton made her wall go right up. “The do-over is that we’re still civil after that night. I believe you mean well, Dalton, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to be anything other than colleagues.”

  His grin faded. “You don’t.”

  She shook her head. “Thank you for asking.”

  He frowned but nodded. “I understand. Maybe I’m a little relieved. It’s hard to measure up to someone like Gavin Darrow.”

  Riley froze.

  “Explains a lot about your interest in Rivers, too.”

  She spied Mark talking to Jay’s parents and to Nate and Gus. He caught her gaze and tossed her a wink. She swallowed.

  “I don’t even want to know what you mean by that,” she said to Dalton.

  “I mean that Rivers is your rebound. He’s safe. I’m hoping you’ll consider me as someone on a level between movie star and . . . ex-fireman.”

  She frowned at him. “Mark isn’t a rebound. And I’m starting to think you’re more on the movie star’s level.”

  Dalton studied her. “It’s true, then.”

  “What’s true?”

  “You and Rivers being a thing.”

  Her pulse picked up. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want his speculation. “Are you listening to small-town rumors, Dalton?”

  He laughed. “It’s true you’ve got the town buzzing. But, no. I know better than that. This came from the man himself.”

  “What do you mean?” A knot tightened in her chest, and she glanced around, noting they’d drawn some judgmental looks from people in the crowd.

  “Mark made it pretty clear to me that you and he had been getting on very well, if you know what I mean. I just had a hard time believing it.”

  She swallowed hard, trying to wrap her head around what he was saying. “Can you be more specific?” Except she didn’t want him to be more specific, and the knot in her chest was making her jaw clench.

  Dalton looked shrewdly over the crowd and then shrugged, meeting her glare. “Oh, just dropped hints, really. How he’s ‘painting’ your house. How you’ve spent hours together on a ‘secret project.’” He kept using finger quotes. “Even claimed to know that you slept with a baseball bat under your bed. And every­one knows he’s stayed over at your place.”

  She stared, frozen in place, replaying any scene at all where Mark would be justified in making such an announcement. They’d slept on the couch. Slept.

  “Was he mistaken, then?” Dalton asked.

  She wanted to slap his innocent look off his face. She clenched her fists, anger and frustration and foolishness whirling inside her like a cyclone. Why was this bothering her so much? It shouldn’t. Half of that was true, though she didn’t know why Mark would share any of it.

  But this hurt. They’d agreed to go slow. To keep things quiet. Friends. Friends and maybe something more. She’d trusted him.

  Mark worked his way down from the platform, putting as much distance between himself and the podium as he could. He just wanted to find Riley and get out of the spotlight.

  Finally, after a few more handshakes, the crowd broke up around him.

  He spied her immediately. She was talking to Dalton Gainer, and when she spotted Mark and didn’t smile back, a warning shot up his spine. Whatever Dalton had said to make her look like that had Mark picking up his pace.

  “Hey,” he said as he reached her. He looked between Riley and Dalton. “What’s up?”

  Riley’s frown deepened. She was upset. Ticked-off upset.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

  “Dalton just told me something very interesting,” she said.

  “Really?” He turned to Dalton. “You stay up all night practicing what to say?”

  Dalton smirked.

  Riley didn’t laugh. She clenched her jaw and didn’t meet Mark’s eyes. “He says you told him that you and I are sleeping together.”

  Mark’s stomach dropped at the underlying anger in her voice and the hush that fell over the crowd around them. Of all the things he would have guessed she was going to say, that wasn’t one of them. He looked at Dalton. “What the—”

  Riley interrupted him. “Dalton said you made sure he understood that you and I were intimate.”

  He couldn’t
help the laugh that found its way up and out. He would never have said anything like that to anyone, let alone to Gainer. But the look of smug triumph on the man’s face quickly dowsed any humor in the situation.

  Fury roiled inside Mark. He was already fighting emotions from the speech. He’d made it through. And he’d wanted nothing more than Riley’s smile, her hand—anything she’d allow. Not this.

  He turned to her, his head spinning. “Why would I—I didn’t—I didn’t say that.”

  “You certainly did, Rivers,” Dalton said, his manner cool. “Just outside the school when I helped you with those boards you were taking to the shop. Claimed your territory pretty clearly.”

  “You helped me with—?” Then it hit him. He remembered that day, how he’d felt defensive of Riley and had thrown out that stupid comment about her baseball bat. “Why you sonuva—”

  “It’s true, then?” Riley gazed at Mark, hurt evident in her eyes. Disappointment. Betrayal. “Has this been some kind of game to you?” She looked between them. “To both of you?”

  Mark rubbed his hand over his face, chuckling but without humor. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s true. I told him I knew you slept with a baseball bat under your bed. And I let him think whatever he wanted because he’s Dalton Gainer and who cares?” His anger took over. “Do you know why I told this lying, cheating piece of work about your bat, Riley?” He held up a hand. “Shut up, Gainer.”

  Dalton shut his mouth on whatever bull he was going to dish out. More people were gathering, but he wasn’t going to let this land in his lap. Not after what he’d just done. Not today.

  “He was telling me to back off. Of you. He was comparing you to points on a scoreboard and claiming he was going to win.” He breathed hard.

  Dalton opened his mouth again.

  Mark pointed at him. “Don’t think I can’t take you right now.”

  “Mark,” he heard Steph say from behind him.

  In his peripheral, he saw Gus and Lester take a step closer.

  He focused on Riley. “I’ve treated you with nothing but respect. I told him about the bat, Riley, because he was talking about my friend like a high school record he wanted to break. I told him to be careful, because I knew if you heard about it, you’d end up swingin’.” Mark backed away, watching her watch him, her eyes big and green and watery. “I just didn’t think you’d be swingin’ at me.”

  He glanced around at faces and shrugged off his dad’s hand on his shoulder. He stared at Riley. “I get it, though. Why on earth would you be with me? Wouldn’t want that rumor spreading. So you just let Dalton keep playing you. No rumors to fear there.” He turned and stalked toward his truck on the other side of the park, his insides hardening like poured concrete.

  Riley watched Mark stride away through blurry eyes, her lungs on fire.

  Dalton stepped closer. She felt his hand on the small of her back. “I’m sure he’ll be all right. Today was rough on him, poor guy. What a scene. How the hero has fallen. Are you okay?”

  As his hand slid lower, she stepped away and slapped Dalton Gainer across the face. Pain burst through her palm.

  “What the—” He held his face and spit out blood.

  “Imagine what I could do with a bat.” She turned.

  “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” Dalton called after her.

  “Oh, sure,” she heard Gus say. “Because no woman has ever slapped you across the face before, right, Gainer? Officer Lester, what do you think?”

  “Clearly self-defense.”

  Yvette touched her arm, but Riley pulled away, her feet taking her after Mark as she fought her churning emotions. She’d been a fool. Why? Why had she so readily believed what Dalton had said? What he’d implied? Mark had done nothing but respect her in every way. Was he right? Was she afraid to be linked to him in the public eye as anything more than just friends?

  Just friends. Tears spilled down her face. They were more than that. From the beginning, they’d been more than that.

  “Mark!” She picked up her pace as he reached his truck. “Mark, please stop.”

  He halted, his shoulders rigid, his head held high. Slowly he turned. He didn’t meet her gaze, his jaw working tightly.

  She slowed and stopped several feet away, afraid to scare him off. “I shouldn’t have believed him.”

  He shifted his weight, stiff.

  “When he said you’d told him—”

  “You are such a hypocrite,” he said, interrupting her.

  She faltered at the accusation in his voice. “What?”

  “You’re angry at your parents for moving you around so much you don’t know what to call home, but you won’t commit to stay in one place long enough to plan your summer. You go out with a man who cheated on his wife and left his children, then, after he takes you to Leavenworth and makes you cry, you go out with him again?”

  He stepped toward her. “I get it. Dalton’s all shiny—but it’s smoke and mirrors. Like that idiot actor you dated back in California. I thought you could see through that. I’ve done my best to show you what’s real in this valley. I wasn’t near done yet. While I was on that platform, scared out of my mind, it hit me that I didn’t care who saw us or who didn’t. I didn’t care about small-town rumors anymore. I just wanted you by my side anywhere. Everywhere.”

  She stepped toward him. “Mark—”

  He stepped back. “And at the same instant, you jump on the first excuse you can find to believe the worst of me.”

  She shook her head, wiping at a tear.

  He didn’t slow down. “You’re making the same mistakes your parents made, and you don’t even see it. You say you can see me, Riley, but you can’t even see yourself. You can’t even see what it might be like if you stayed. It might be amazing.” He shook his head in frustration. “It has been amazing. When are you going to realize that I’m not your father, Riley? I’m not some guy who couldn’t see what he had right in front of him.” He threw his hands out at his sides. “What part of any of me says that I’m going anywhere?” He laughed, half-crazy. “That I won’t be here for-freaking-ever?”

  He closed the distance between them in a few steps and took her arms, his dark eyes sparking with a mix of anger and desperation. “You make me feel real, Riley. What do I make you feel?”

  She couldn’t breathe.

  His grip tightened. “What do I make you feel?”

  A car rolled on the gravel behind her and a door opened. “Riley, baby?”

  Her head jerked at that voice. “Mom?”

  Determined footsteps came around from the driver’s side of a large SUV. “Get your hands off her!”

  “Dad?”

  Mark dropped his hands, turning their way.

  Her mother gasped, and her dad halted in his tracks. Then fury clouded his face. “What are you doing to my daughter?”

  Riley wiped quickly at her tears and stepped in front of Mark. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

  He pulled his eyes away from Mark. She’d seen the moment his anger had turned into distaste. Her mother still held her hand over her mouth in revulsion.

  “Is this man hurting you?” her dad asked.

  “No.” She sucked in a breath, which was difficult considering her chest was caving in. “The other way around,” she whispered. She dared a look at Mark.

  He was watching her, his expression dark, reminding her of that man in the hood at the backstage doors so long ago. He addressed her parents, keeping his right side away from them. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. Excuse me.” He gave Riley one last look, then walked back to his truck, kicked up the engine, and drove away.

  Riley drove blindly on roads so familiar now she could draw a map and name them, even with the snow falling hard enough she had to use her wipers.

  She’d asked her parents to return to their hotel in L
eaven­worth with a promise to call them.

  “We decided that since you weren’t coming to us for the holidays,” her mom had explained, “we were coming to you. I hear there’s a big tree-lighting tomorrow.”

  Surprise.

  The look on Mark’s face haunted her. His anger had shielded his hurt, but she was the girl who could see him. And she’d hurt him. Betrayed his trust. He was right. She’d taken the first chance she was given to push him away and made it spectacular. Congratulations, Madigan. It worked.

  You make me feel real. What do I make you feel?

  He’d been open and vulnerable, and then her parents had shown up and reminded him that there were those in this world who saw scars walking around as people.

  She wiped the insistent tears from her eyes, realizing that she’d been climbing the winding roads to Rivers Orchards on auto­pilot.

  She slammed on the brakes.

  She’d hurt Mark. Because she didn’t know how to commit. She didn’t know how to put down roots and give them the chance to grow.

  She gripped the steering wheel.

  It wouldn’t stop there. Now that people knew about her and Gavin, they’d be curious and questioning and watching. He didn’t need someone like her leading him on or using him. Because that’s all she’d been doing. She hadn’t meant to. She’d wanted to believe everything he said about hope and belonging . . .

  But how could someone like her know how to trust? How to love?

  At the thought, she crumpled forward, fighting more tears as they came anyway.

  She’d told him she could see him. But at the first real test, all she could see was a reason to run.

  She wiped at her tears again, then backed up, angling the car so she could turn around on the narrow road banked by snow. She had to get out of there. As she whipped the car around, she heard a horn and slammed on her breaks just as a truck slammed on theirs. Both vehicles slid to a halt, only a few feet from each other.