by Melody Grace
The passion. The white-hot chemistry. And more than that, the feeling of total ease and safety when she was in his arms—where she belonged. A man could go his whole life never feeling that bond, and what did he do when he was finally blessed enough to have it right there for the taking?
He shut down. Turned on her. Ran scared, because the thought of facing the unknown there in Sweetbriar with her was more terrifying to him than taking the easy way out here. Without her.
Damn, he’d been a fool.
Was it really too late for them?
Jake paused, a small flash of hope cutting through the darkness.
He wasn’t a quitter. That was what had made him a relentless player: whatever it took to make it happen, no matter how long he had to train, no matter how punishing the process. He fought, and he won, every time.
So why wasn’t he fighting for her?
He turned on his heel and stepped back inside, already pulling out his phone to call a car. It was forty minutes to the airport, six hours on a plane, another two on the road to make it to the Cape, but that was nothing compared to a lifetime without her.
He was late already, and there was no time to spare.
26
Christmas Eve dawned bright, with an icy-blue cloudless sky and the perfect thick layer of snow on the ground. Mackenzie leapt out of bed, determined not to let her heartache ruin her favorite time of year. She was going to take her traditional stroll around town to see everyone’s festive displays, and then the whole town closed early for the final day of the festival. Sleigh rides and carol-singing, and the famous Sweetbriar nog-off tasting contest.
She was going to find her holiday cheer if it killed her.
“Look at you, Ms. Klaus!”
When she stepped out of her door, she was surprised to find Eliza just approaching, bundled up in a massive parka with two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. “Love the outfit,” she grinned, and Mackenzie did a little spin. She was wearing a red knit dress with thick tights, winter boots, and a white faux stole, with a Russian-style fur trapper hat to finish the ensemble.
“Is that coffee?” she asked eagerly.
“Yours is vanilla with whipped cream,” Eliza announced, thrusting one at Mackenzie. “Mine is black, like my heart.”
She took it. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on deadline, trying to keep your job.”
Eliza waved her concern away. “They sent us all home early for the holidays, which I’m sure is a great sign for my continued employment. Besides, I need to make sure you don’t disappear in a pile of takeout boxes and despair. Wait, that’s my way of handling a breakup. You seem remarkably healthy,” Eliza frowned.
“I’m past shock, and into denial,” Mackenzie said cheerfully.
“Sounds good to me.” Eliza laughed, and the two of them began strolling towards town. “Now, I’d tell you to be gentle with me with all this holiday stuff, but I’m guessing that’s not an option.”
“It depends,” Mackenzie grinned. “Does ‘gentle’ include a sleigh ride and making our own gingerbread houses?”
“Uh oh.” Eliza began to look worried. “I don’t think there’s enough coffee in the world for that.”
But despite her anti-holiday stance, Eliza didn’t protest as Mackenzie dragged her around town, sampling everything the Starbright Festival had to offer. From photos in Santa’s grotto, to a bracing sleigh ride through the snow, they tried it all. Mackenzie was glad for the whirl of distraction, and it was fun to share her beloved traditions with a newcomer. By the time the sun was setting, even Eliza was humming along with Bing Crosby in the pub—in her new holly-trimmed holiday hat.
“Not you too!” Riley exclaimed, pouring them both a mug of mulled wine. “I thought if anyone could stand strong against the tide of festivities, it was you, Eliza.”
“Sorry, not sorry!” Eliza grinned.
“I took her to the dark side,” Mackenzie gloated. “Or rather, the red-and-white side.”
Brooke joined them, leaning up to give Riley a kiss. “Aww, are you playing Scrooge again? He won’t tell you, but he watched Love Actually last night,” she added with a wink.
“For you!” Riley protested. “Because a good boyfriend makes sacrifices.”
“Sure,” Brooke teased. “That’s why you had me pause it while you got up for snacks.”
They all laughed, just as Summer and Grayson entered, bearing a shiny trophy. “I did it!” Summer announced, striking a pose. “You are now looking at the official title-holder of the best eggnog on the Cape.”
Mackenzie led the applause. “Congratulations!”
“Does this mean you’re getting a liquor license for the bakery?” Riley asked, looking worried. “Because let’s be honest, I can’t compete with those pastries.”
“No, your business is safe. For now!” Summer beamed. Then the door swung open again, and Poppy and Cooper arrived, looking so happy and in love that Mackenzie let out a little gasp.
“Is it official?” she asked, looking back and forth between them.
Cooper cracked a smile, and then Poppy thrust out her hand, showing off a gorgeous engagement ring.
The shrieks were deafening.
“Oh my God, when did you do it?” Mackenzie demanded, smothering Cooper in a hug.
“This morning.” He looked bashful. “I was planning on waiting until New Year’s, but, well . . .”
“That’s not the only thing,” Poppy added, practically glowing. “I’m pregnant. Officially,” she added with a grin.
This time, the wave of congratulations included almost everyone in the pub. Mackenzie hugged her tightly, overwhelmed with excitement for them. She’d known Cooper for years, and for a while, it had seemed like he would grow old and bitter, alone. But his good heart had just needed the right partner, and Poppy was the perfect fit.
“I’ve finally got an excuse to take up knitting,” Eliza exclaimed. “This baby’s going to have onesies for days.”
Poppy laughed, and then her expression grew teary. “I can’t believe it,” she said, looking around. “This time last year, I had a whole different life. And now here I am, and it feels like I’ve been home forever.”
“This place has a way of changing everything,” Mackenzie agreed. She suddenly felt choked up, and had to step away to get a glass of water from behind the bar.
Jake should be here.
It was silly to think. After all, he hadn’t spent long in town, not this time around, and he’d only just met her friends. But somehow, Mackenzie felt the space where he should be: shaking Cooper’s hand and congratulating Poppy. Part of her world, here.
Part of her future.
She swallowed back the pain. It wasn’t the day for it, not with so much good news to share in. So, she put it away, safe in a box in her heart for later, and went to celebrate with her friends, linking arms as they all bundled out into the cold again and followed the stream of people towards the town square. The trees were all lit up, blazing in the night, and the local choirs were starting to sing, the clean, crisp notes of the carols soaring through the dark sky.
Mackenzie noticed that Eliza was tapping on her phone. “Put that away!” she scolded her. “Unless you’re looking up the lyrics to join in, no phones allowed.”
“You’re right.” Eliza tucked it away and turned to Mackenzie with an innocent smile. “It’s so busy out, let’s go find a spot to sit and enjoy the singing.”
“OK,” Mackenzie agreed. The crowd was getting massive now, and she could use a little room to breathe, so she followed Eliza to the edge of the green and along the path to the gazebo. The structure was lit up, strung with a hundred tiny lights, all illuminating the—
“Snowflakes,” Mackenzie breathed, recognizing the gleam of the ornaments, dangling from the roof in a shimmer of stars. She didn’t understand. She’d searched that basement high and low, and they were nowhere to be found.
“Look—” she started, turning to Eliza, but her friend h
ad vanished into thin air, and Mackenzie was alone. She climbed the steps, and looked around in delight. It was just the way she remembered, a frozen corner of the world, full of magic.
“But how . . . ?” she wondered aloud.
“I called every gift shop and décor place in Massachusetts.”
Her heart stopped.
She almost didn’t want to look, in case she was imagining things, but when she finally forced herself to turn, there he was, standing with his hands bunched nervously in the pockets of his coat, with snowflakes melting in his ruffled hair, and his eyes—those eyes that always took her breath away—looking at her with such a naked hope that Mackenzie forgot how to breathe.
Jake was here.
He’d come back. For her?
“I found them in a little store in Boston,” he continued. “Luckily, the owner was a football fan, so she opened especially for me, on my drive down.”
“They’re beautiful,” Mackenzie whispered, unable to drag her eyes away from him. “But . . . why?”
Jake gave her a bashful smile. “You said it wasn’t Christmas without them.”
She took a shallow breath, and then another, forcing herself not to leap into his arms. She couldn’t do it again, not until she knew what he was doing back here, looking at her that way.
She loved him too much to settle for anything less.
“I’m sorry.” Jake’s voice was raw, and he took a half-step closer. “I messed this up, I know I did, I just . . . I couldn’t deal with failing again. I spent so long with football at the center of my world, and then, after the injury, the only thing I knew for sure was that I had to get it all back. Until you.” Jake paused, his gaze searching hers. “I’ve never known anyone the way I know you, Mackenzie. And I’ve never loved anyone like this either.”
The world stopped spinning. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she almost didn’t believe she’d heard him right. But then Jake moved closer and caught her hands in his.
“I love you,” he said again, smiling this time. “And I know I don’t deserve a second chance after the way I hurt you, but I swear, I’m not going anywhere this time. I don’t care how long it takes, if you tell me there’s even half a chance of making this right with you . . .” His voice caught with the urgency of his emotions, but she saw it written on his face.
Awestruck and reverent—the way she felt whenever she looked at him.
Her heart caught fire, blazing so hard she could have sworn it lit up the night sky. “But what happens now?” she whispered, still not quite believing it. “I told you, I’m not moving to LA, and long-distance—”
Jake shook his head. “I don’t want you to,” he vowed. “You were right, you belong here. Sweetbriar is your home, and . . . And, I want it to be mine, too. If you’ll let me. I love you.” He said it again, fiercely, moving to cradle her cheeks in his hands. “I love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you. And if our future is here, then . . . well, you couldn’t drag me away,” he said, his breath whispering her skin with the promise she’d spent half her life waiting to hear.
“I’m here, Mackenzie. I’m yours.”
It was simple, in the end. It had always been simple with him. She knew his heart—every brave, strong, gentle, passionate beat—and Mackenzie knew she would gladly spend a lifetime loving him with every part of hers.
She pulled him closer and kissed him, holding tightly as the carols soared around them into the night.
“I love you,” she whispered, coming up for air. “I think a part of me has always loved you.”
Jake held her tenderly. “Then I guess I’ve got some catching up to do,” he said, and she laughed, feeling gleeful and bold. She had everything in the world, right there in her arms.
“We’re back where we started,” she suddenly realized, looking around. The gazebo was a winter wonderland, twinkling with a hundred fragile snowflakes, but she could remember the pumpkin patch and the scent of hay bales that first night they’d kissed. “Do you remember?”
“How could I forget?” Jake smiled. “That was the night a mysterious assassin stole my heart.”
Mackenzie laughed, but his eyes were true.
“I mean it,” he said, dipping to kiss her cheek again, her forehead, her nose, and even her eyelashes, lavishing her with tenderness. “It’s yours, sweetheart. It’ll always be yours.”
She felt choked up, overwhelmed by how precious the moment felt, like snowfall in her palms. But instead of melting away, she knew this was just the beginning: the first of a thousand nights in his arms, the first of a lifetime.
“Come on,” he said softly, taking her hand. “Let’s go see the rest of the show.”
She shook her head. “Next year,” she said, knowing in her heart there would be a next year for them, and a next after that. The years stretching out like the jewels of streetlights strung through the square, full of possibility. She drew him back to her again. “This one’s just ours.”
So he wrapped her in his embrace, and they held each other there as the snow fell softly, and the candlelight shone, and all was calm and bright.
27
This year, New Year’s Eve was different.
Usually, Mackenzie closed the store early and spent the afternoon busy in her studio with music playing and a cup of hot cocoa at her side. It was a tradition of sorts, throwing the first pots of the year and planning her collections to come, before she wrapped up, stopped by a local party, and shared a celebration with her neighbors and headed home, greeting the new year in front of the fire with a solitary glass of wine.
This year, she was anything but alone.
“Touch gently . . .”
“Like this?”
“Yes, feel your way along. Softer, softer . . . Yes, Jake, that’s right.”
“I told you, I’ve got magic hands.”
Mackenzie laughed, and gently guided his touch on the clay. She was sitting behind him at the potter’s wheel, showing him firsthand how to throw his very first bowl.
Jake half-turned to drop a kiss on her cheek. “I can see why you like this,” he said. “I’m feeling all Ghost here.”
“That would make me Patrick Swayze,” Mackenzie giggled, her hands intertwined with his as the clay spun and shaped on the wheel. “And you’re Demi.”
She felt the rumble of Jake’s laughter against her chest, and then he was kissing his way up her arm with hot, molten kisses that made it hard for her to concentrate on shaping the clay. “It’ll fall,” she warned him breathlessly, as his lips reached her shoulder.
“There’s no danger of that,” Jake teased, pressing closer. She laughed, and then willingly surrendered, shutting off the wheel as Jake lifted her around to straddle his lap. He brushed hair back from her face, and she didn’t even care about the smears of clay from his dirty hands, not when his body was flush against her and he was smiling at her with those laughing blue eyes.
“You’ve got a little something . . .” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her shoulder. She shivered as his lips trailed over her skin.
“So do you,” she whispered, tracing the trail of clay down over his biceps. She closed her eyes happily as his lips found hers for a slow, hot kiss. She was learning the shape of him by heart, the way she knew the curves of her clay, every ridge and hollow of his torso, every smooth expanse of muscle and knot of sinew. Still, she never tired of exploring, savoring the rise of his body and the tantalizing slide of his tongue against hers.
Her phone buzzed in her bag, and then again.
“That’ll be Eliza,” Mackenzie said, dragging her lips away.
“So?” Jake kept kissing her. She giggled.
“So, we’re late for the party. We’ve been hermits all week . . .”
He stole her words with another kiss, and Mackenzie sank into him, reminded of the reason why. They’d barely come up for air since Christmas, wrapped in their cocoon at her cottage, eating and sleeping and laughing and making up for that lost time. It was thril
ling and delicious, but it still almost felt like a dream to Mackenzie to have everything she wanted right there in her arms.
Finally, Jake drew back. “One hour at the party, then I get you home,” he bargained, his hands still sliding over her body with a possessiveness that made her pulse skip.
“Done.” She detangled herself from him, and went to the sink in the corner to hastily wash away the scandalous fingerprints he’d left behind. When she was done, she turned to find him examining the sculptures in the corner.
“You changed this one,” he said, tracing the third one. She was surprised—and touched—that he’d noticed.
“I wanted to give the series a happy ending,” she said, assessing the way the figures bent towards each other now, love joined, instead of denied. “I sent some photos to Vivian in New York, and she really likes them. So, I guess the exhibition is going ahead.”
“You guess?” Jake echoed. He shook his head, clearly amused. “We’re going to have to work on your confidence.”
“I’m plenty confident!” she protested, laughing as he picked her up. “I’m the town charades champion. I make a killer spaghetti—”
“And you’re an amazing artist.”
“If you say so.” Mackenzie flushed. She knew she would have to get used to sharing her work eventually, but it still meant a lot that Jake was behind her 100%. He set her down again, and she reached to pass him his coat. There was a crinkle of papers in his pocket, and she paused.
“What’s this?”
Jake looked bashful. “Just some things from the realtor.”
Mackenzie paused. “The realtor . . . here?”
“Where else?” Jake looked blissfully confused. “I told you, I’m staying.”
She exhaled, that warmth spreading from her chest to every part of her. “I know. But I like to hear you say it.”
Jake smiled and tugged her closer. “I thought in the new year we could start looking for a place. For us. I know you love your cottage,” he added, looking apologetic, “but—”