by Ellie Hall
Owen’s mouth opened and closed. No one ever knew what to say, but as a cop, he’d likely come into contact with plenty of cases like hers. From what she remembered, which wasn’t much, there was alcoholism and abuse in the Powell household.
“I was probably better off with the foster families, but I never felt like I belonged. Some of them were really, really weird. Others were kind, they meant well. But I realize now, so many years later, at some point I’d built a wall around myself. The only thing I’d ever wanted was a family, but I wouldn’t let anyone in. Even John, I mean, he was the closest, but I just closed myself off. I think I was so afraid of letting myself love anyone because I feared that they’d be taken away.”
Owen’s hand stretched across the space on the sofa between them. He laced his fingers through hers and then drawing his hand to his lips, he kissed her knuckles.
They were still and silent for a moment. Brynn soaked up the warm sensation that his lips had left on her skin. The truth was free at last and he hadn’t run away. He’d drawn them closer together.
After a beat, he said, “I have four brothers and a sister, but she passed. I had a mother and father. A family. But to tell you the truth, something I’ve never told anyone, in a way, I understand. Obviously, not the part about your parents, but about being closed off and building up walls.”
She nodded. “It’s always been hard to talk about, almost impossible, but I feel better having told you.”
“Family is a powerful thing. My brothers and I haven’t spoken in about five years. We had a falling out after our father died. Well, in some ways before that when our mother left. Things were never the same. I think it hit me harder than I realized when my ex left too. It was like history repeating itself, but not only for me. For Harper too, this sweet little person I love more than life itself. I know I can’t give her everything, but I try while at the same time I have this thing—I don’t know what to call it, but it’s like I want to protect her from other people hurting her like my mother did, as her mother did...You know?” The words came out haltingly as though he was cautious even saying them.
Brynn nodded. “What tore you and your brothers apart?”
Harper appeared, smelling like strawberries and mint toothpaste. She smiled at the sight of them holding hands and then tucked herself between them on the couch. “I’m sleepy, Daddy.” Her eyes fluttered closed.
“You’re going to have sweet dreams,” Owen whispered, smoothing her hair.
The tightness that had always been in Brynn’s chest fought against the present reality. Although she may never have her own family, what she had right then was pretty great.
“I’d better get her to bed,” Owen whispered as he picked her up. Her little bare feet stuck out of pink princess pajamas. Her eyes blinked open and she reached for Brynn’s hand.
“I should say goodnight too. It’s been fun, Honey.”
“See you tomorrow at school, Bunny,” Harper whispered.
Owen appeared a few moments later as Brynn was putting on her coat.
“Did Harper call you Bunny?” he asked.
Brynn grinned. “We came up with nicknames. I call her Honey and she calls me Bunny. Originally, I thought it should be the other way around—like Miss Honey from the movie Matilda—, but she said Brynn sounds more like Bunny since it starts with B and since Harper starts with H, it’s more like Honey.” She laughed lightly at the sweet logic of the little girl.
He smirked. “That’s sweet. She adores you. And...” He licked his lips, biting his lower one with his teeth. “So do I. Coming back here, I really wasn’t sure what to expect, certainly not you, Brynn.”
The fire crackled in the background and whether from its warmth or from another source altogether, Brynn felt entirely too hot in her coat. She stepped back and he moved closer.
Her breath caught in her chest as she lifted her chin.
Their eyes met.
Her smile felt shaky. Her heart drummed in her chest.
His eyes flickered. His head tipped down.
They both hesitated. The walls were still up. The moment passed.
“I should go.” Brynn swept out the door, regretting not letting him kiss her, but also terrified of what would happen if he did. Because if the kiss on her hand was any indication, her world would change forever.
Chapter 8
Owen
Owen decided that he was an idiot. A fool. A dope.
Why hadn’t he leaned in and kissed the girl, for goodness sakes? The opportunity was there; it was perfect. A crackling fire, an intensity between them that was hotter still. He couldn’t forget her cinnamon scent or the way she looked at him with her soft brown eyes.
Brynn had reflected his longing that night. They both wanted a little something more. But he also recognized in her how he felt. Scared. Not only was a fool, but he was a chicken. Oh, his brothers would’ve had a field day with that. Of all of them, he was the most restrained, had the fewest dates, liked to take things slow. He’d always wanted something meaningful. He thought he’d found it in Nadine, but she quickly demonstrated that her own demons were more powerful than their feelings for each other.
“Hey, Turkey.” Brynn’s voice shocked him out of his thoughts.
They’d spent the last week since the almost-kiss in each other’s orbit. He’d pick Harper up early from the farmhouse, they’d have breakfast, he’d get her ready for school, and then drop her off. He’d go home, sleep a few hours, go to Room Four in the afternoon, head back to the resort with Harper and have some quality time before bringing her back to the farmhouse for dinner at six. Repeat. It was the best arrangement he could come up with to maximize time with his daughter. She seemed happier and loved the progress she and Brynn were making on the room makeover. He tried not to think about which one of his brother’s had rented her the place.
She bumped her shoulder into his. A pleasant jolt rocked him at her touch. “It looks like you’ve shredded this piece of paper into oblivion.” She took a scrap of paper he’d absentmindedly torn apart while intending to organize field trip permission slips and thinking about what a chicken he was.
Their hands brushed, sending a tingling sensation up his arm that was no less powerful than the first time they’d held hands. Harper was big on that and he found himself wanting to hold more than Brynn’s hand. Could he handle her heart? Would she let him?
“It was a duplicate.” His voice was froggy from not speaking for a while.
“I really appreciate everything you’ve been doing to help out in here. Seriously, it’s like night and day since the beginning of the year. I’d be here well into the evenings, scrambling to get things done. That’s why my bathroom redo took so long. I’d spend, like, ten minutes a day on it.”
“My father used to have this terrible saying. Well, actually, I suppose it was a question. Idiom? Maxim? Anyway, I’m not the greatest with words. It went like this. ‘How do you eat an elephant?’”
Brynn wrinkled her nose. “Firstly, ew. Secondly, you don’t. Thirdly...” She tapped her chin with one finger. “You eat an elephant with a giant fork?”
Owen’s expression relaxed into a smile. She was so adorable. Spunky and sometimes solemn. Smart and striking. Soft and secretive... He wanted to know every wonderful thing about her. Learn why she sometimes looked sad, what was hidden away in her heart, and how she always smelled so darn good.
“My father would say, ‘You eat an elephant one bite at a time.’”
She clapped her hands together and rocked back. “Oh, I get it. In other words, if you have to do something that seems tough or impossible, you just do one thing at a time until it’s done, er, eaten.”
“Exactly. So for your home remodel, you just take it one room at a time. Bit by bit. Bite by bite.” He found himself curious about the arrangement with her landlord, and which one of the other four Hawkins it was, but shut down the thought again. Facing them, any one of them, would be too difficult.
“Fortu
nately, I won’t be eating any drywall or household fixtures, but I have been starting to think about Thanksgiving.” Her gaze turned to the middle distance as though she were thinking about all the deliciousness she’d be creating in the kitchen. Then he recalled what she said about her life growing up. From the sound of it and what he’d seen, her holidays had been nothing like his when he was young—an abundance of food, laughter, and a Christmas tree that reached the ceiling. At least until everything happened with his sister and then his mother leaving.
Had she ever reconnected with her family of origin? Had she been adopted by one of the foster families? He wanted to ask, but if she was anything like him, talking about family was close to impossible. The raw emotion in her face that night at the resort in front of the fire told him it was a hard subject. The last thing he wanted to add to her life was difficulty. Considering she was a young widow, life was tough enough.
Instead, he said, “What you and the kids are doing for the families in need is tremendous. How’d you raise the funds for the food?” Each child in the class was bringing a bag of groceries and other items to a family that was otherwise short on resources for a Thanksgiving meal.
Her eyes darted around the room.
He inclined his head, waiting for her response.
She bit her lip.
Lines formed along his forehead.
“Remember how we were talking about that fundraiser a little while ago?” She squished up her face.
“The one we haven’t yet organized?”
“Well, I funded it myself. Drew from my savings.”
Owen’s jaw dropped. “Brynn, that must’ve cost you thousands.” It was clear she went above and beyond as a teacher, but that was outrageous. Not the part about her generosity, but that she’d simply paid for it herself when she hardly had the money—he had an idea of her salary and knew her finances were relatively tight.
“Yeah, well, I remember what it was like not having food for Thanksgiving. Then other years having plenty. I don’t want kids like me, growing up in difficult circumstances, to go without. I want them to feel the bounty of the season.” Brynn’s tone balanced between sadness and determination.
Since they were still in the classroom, he fought the urge to take her into his arms. She truly had the biggest heart, especially for children.
“I know I’ll figure it out.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said.
That night was quiet as he patrolled Hawk Ridge Hollow. In the distance, the resort glittered and the ski trails were like glowing stripes running down the mountain. He thought about how to help Brynn, especially with the fundraising efforts. But his mind kept tearing him away, landing on each of his brothers in turn and how they’d missed the last several Thanksgivings together. How they’d fallen away from each other’s lives. A couple of them were married. Did they have kids? He was a jerk for not knowing, but how could they ever bridge the divide? Heck, even their own mother went and left them. Maybe their family was destined to be broken.
The wind whistled down from the hills, causing the bare trees to shake their limbs. He thought of his father, the will, and how he’d desired, demanded that his sons to marry. Charles Hawkins had wanted to preserve and grow the family. That was true as he lived and even after he died. But how? How to bring them back together?
The next afternoon, Harper rushed up to Owen when he arrived for the last hour to help out in Room Four. He was also glad he was going to get to spend some extra time with her since her maternal grandparents were taking her for the weekend. They wouldn’t be able to see her over the holiday break so they flew in for a brief visit.
“Daddy, we also made cards for the families and I drew a turkey on mine.”
“I wish I’d seen it.”
“Bunny—I mean Ms. Powell took a picture.” She went on to describe the details she’d added, including alternating pink and purple feathers.
He ruffled her hair.
The next hour flew by with all the kids excited to have time off for the long break. He’d arranged with Brynn for her to look after Harper while he slept during the day since he still had to work. He knew he had to put in his time at the station, but working the night shift was tough. Though, as a single dad, he knew he was doing the best he could and Harper loved being with Brynn and vice versa—and that meant he got to see both of them more often—so it was a win-win for all of them.
Harper and Daisy were at their cubbies talking while Owen helped straighten up the classroom.
“Hey, Turkey,” Brynn said. “Thanks for all the help this week. The kids get a tad rambunctious when they know vacation is coming.”
“The worm, dinosaur, and unicorn imitations were getting pretty goofy.” He said with a laugh.
“And the fake food fight...” Brynn had brought plastic food and filled a cornucopia to help the kids learn about health and nutrition.
“Great idea to have a dance break.”
“I really liked your moves.” She winked.
He hadn’t brought out the Hawkins Hop that time, but all of the Hawkins boys could dance. It had once been a family pastime.
“Let’s not discuss the crayon crimes.”
“Actually, as an officer of the law, I must be honest, ma’am.” He spoke in a mock-serious tone. “I have to bring you in for questioning.”
“In that case, I have no choice but to be honest too.” The laughter in her eyes turned serious. “I noticed you started calling me Brynn.” She pointed it so plainly, but a smirk appeared on her lips. It caught him off guard.
Owen’s ears heated as he recalled the night at the resort, but he reminded himself not to be a chicken. “Actually, I’m wondering if you’d like to... go out... two turkeys...” He tried to make a joke out of asking her on a date, but any notion of a smooth line flew out the window. He gripped the back of his neck. “Ah. I’m no good at this. Been out of the game for too long. Well, I was never in the game. Out of all of my brothers, I was the least versed in the art of dating...”
Brynn leaned close as though urging him to continue.
The spike of vulnerability, of honesty, threatened to silence him, but he really wanted to ask her on a date. He was a grown man. A cop. It wasn’t that he was afraid she’d say no. He could handle that. No, it wasn’t rejection that he feared. It was letting her in, getting too close, and then her walking away. It had happened twice in his life. With two different women. Very different relationships. First, his mother left them. Then his wife. But Brynn was different. She had a depth to her, a history of her own, and didn’t seem like the kind of person to turn her back on anyone. She’d funded a feed-thirty families for Thanksgiving operation on her own after all. She wasn’t the kind of person to turn her back on others—strangers or otherwise.
He drew a deep breath. “Brynn, I’m wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me to the Winter Festival?”
She lit up. “I’d be delighted.”
The next day, with Harper settled with her grandparents, Owen picked Brynn up at the farmhouse. She was wearing a parka with a furry hood and stylish but warm-looking boots.
As they drove to town, they talked about Harper a bit and some of Brynn’s plans for their week together.
When they pulled into town, she fell silent with awe. Each of the storefronts of the shops lining the streets were each filled with a merry scene depicting something having to do with Christmas. Each year, the theme changed. That year it was modeled after the story “The Night Before Christmas.”
Some people complained that it was too soon to start decorating for Christmas, but to Owen, it was always the gateway to the holidays. He couldn’t wait to share it with his daughter...and Brynn.
They parked and got out of the truck. The bells attached to horse bridles, giving people sleigh rides, tinkled and hung in the air like the snow that shimmered and clung to mountainside. He gazed around, wondering if Dallen was driving any of the carriages.
The streets were closed
to traffic so visitors and children gamboled about in merriment. Carols came from the town square.
It was magical.
But it wasn’t only Christmas-themed. There were aspects related to Thanksgiving and winter in general. A sign posted some of the events and activities. There was an ax-throwing contest—his thoughts landed on Rocky—fire and ice shows, snowboarders and skiers competing and performing tricks.
“Where would you like to start?” he asked as Brynn looked around, wonderstruck.
“I have no idea, but this might just be the best thing ever. I definitely found my new home.” Her eyes shone brightly.
Without another word, she laced her arm through Owen’s so their elbows were locked together as she studied the program for the day.
“Oh, there are members of the US Olympics ski team. Would you like to go to check that out?” she asked. “I thought the festival was only this weekend. It goes until New Year’s Eve. Wow.”
Owen nodded. “Culminates in a firework display that will blow your mind.” He thought of his brother Tripp, who was a firefighter and took part in organizing that event in years’ past. “If you don’t mind seeing the skiers, that would be fantastic. According to the schedule, they’re only here for this weekend.”
They walked toward the resort where the event was being held. As they passed, booths were set up with craftspeople and food. The smell of roasting nuts, chocolate, and cinnamon filled his nose. Though that last one may have been Brynn’s delicious scent.
She stopped on the path in front of a booth. “Promise not to make fun of me, but what is a turkey trot? Please tell me that they don’t race turkeys.”
Owen chuckled. “Nope, the turkeys are us.” He made a gobble-gobble noise. “It’s a footrace. Usually a 5K run. This one is the weekend after Thanksgiving. They used to host it the day after, but must have moved it—maybe to get more participants”
“I guess that would still help to work off the meal.”