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He’s playing with my hair, running his fingers through it. “Play hooky with me today. We’ll go pick out a Christmas tree from the Kringle place.”
Something about his words bothers me, but I can’t put my finger on what exactly. Instead, I find myself whispering, “OK.”
Rogue gets up to make me breakfast, and I frown. “What happened to West Kringle? He was supposed to play Santa Claus.”
“He couldn’t make it. He had the flu,” he explains before grinning. “And I’m damn glad he did.”
“Me, too,” I whisper as my cheeks heat.
After I take a shower, the two of us go out. Rogue made me a big breakfast, but he still stops at Courage Cookies to grab me a hot chocolate. When he gets back in his truck, he hands it to me, and I can’t help smiling. This man is perfect. He thinks of everything I need.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
He stares at me for a moment too long, not starting the truck or putting it back in drive.
“What?” I ask, wondering if I have a hot chocolate mustache.
“Spend Christmas with me,” he blurts out.
I freeze, my heart squeezing in my chest.
“Unless you have other plans.” He reaches for the key in the ignition.
I put a hand on his arm, stilling his motion. “I was a foster kid.”
“Me too. The holidays hit you the hardest,” he says, somehow knowing exactly what I’m feeling and putting it into words for me.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. I can no longer taste the sweet drink on my tongue. I stare out the windshield, lost in the past. “When I was nine, this wealthy couple took me in a few days before Christmas. They spoiled me with fancy dresses, beautiful gifts, and extravagant dinners. I thought after being unwanted and overlooked for so long that I finally got the parents I always wanted. I found people who cared about me.”
Rogue unbuckles my seatbelt and pulls me into his arms. He cradles my head against his shoulder, like he’s trying to hug away all the pain.
“Then they got the call from the hospital. It was for their daughter who had been in a coma. She woke up.”
He swears under his breath.
“She was the same age as me, and well, I got sent back. After that, no matter what the social worker said, I never tried. I never wanted to be wanted again.”
“I want you, baby girl,” he whispers.
As I cry, years of rejection come flooding back. All those times when I thought I’d get a family of my own. All those moments when I desperately yearned to have people who loved me.
He holds me through the tears until I’m softly hiccupping.
“That’s a yes to spending Christmas with you, if you still want a mess like me,” I add awkwardly.
He gives me a soft grin. “I’d love to have you for Christmas, mess or no mess.”
He cleans my face with a napkin, then we sit in the cab of his truck. We talk for another hour before we eventually make our way to the Kringle Ranch. I’m feeling so much lighter as he parks the truck.
West comes out to greet us, bouncing his two-month-old son in his arms. “How did the event last night go? When Hale called to say he wanted to be Santa, I was surprised. Then again, it gave me more time with this little guy.”
Rogue and I exchange a look. “You didn’t have the flu?”
“Hale said you had the flu,” Rogue says, his eyes narrowing.
West breaks into a fake coughing fit. “Oh yeah, terrible flu.”
Baker chooses that moment to let out a loud cry, and West takes advantage of it. He points to the barn a few feet away. “Chainsaws and gear are in there. Put them back where you got them, and don’t forget to lock up when you’re done.”
