“Who might not notice I’m here or…” He gave Red a hopeful look. “Might want to come back here with me. Park City was her home until my dad decided he wanted to ‘retire’ in Vermont, which made no sense. Now he’s gone and if I were…” His voicetrailed off. “Doesn’t matter, Red. Cindy’s moved on, built a life. Nicole, too. They don’t need me.”
Red rooted for the words to tell him how very wrong he was. But Jack was sixty years old—a grown man who didn’t need his former father-in-law telling him he was a fool.
“Are you sure of that?” Red asked, hoping to get Jack to see straight.
“I’m sure that I don’t know how to tell Cindy how I feel and what I want. I just don’t know how to tell her.”
The man’s voice cracked, and for once, Red saw not the smooth talker, not the championship athlete or the ESPN commentator, but just a man who loved a woman and had probably never stopped.
Red clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Son, you don’t need a sales pitch. You don’t need perfect timing. You just tell her. Straight as skis downhill. You love her, you say so. You want your family back, you say so. Cindy deserves that kind of honesty.”
Jack swallowed. “You make it sound easy.”
“’Cause it is. Hardest part’s stepping up. The rest is her call.”
They reached the cabin porch. Warm light glowed through the crack in the curtain. Red paused, letting the words hang.
Jack dragged a hand through his hair. “For what it’s worth, Red—I want to be a family again. I’m still in love with her. I always was and always will be. I love Cindy the way I did the day I married her. I just don’t know how to tell her.”
The cabin door creaked open, making them realize it hadn’t been fully closed.
Cindy stood there, cheeks flushed from the fire inside, cradling a bundle of light brown curls that squirmed in her arms. She’d clearly been tending to the pup, but her gaze was fixed on Jack, steady and unwavering.
“You just did,” she said softly.
Jack froze.
Red’s heart gave a satisfied thump. He stepped back into the snow, leaving the porch to them. “Guess my work here’s done,” he muttered, turning toward the lodge lights.
Behind him, the puppy yipped, Jack stammered, and he heard Cindy laugh, sounding a lot like that girl on the day she married Jack Kessler.
What do you know? Maybe Christmas still had a miracle or two up its sleeve.
Cindy hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She’d only opened the cabin door because the puppy fidgeted like a live wire in her arms and needed to go outside. But then she heard Jack say he loved her the way he did the day they got married—helovedher.
The words landed like a lit match in her chest, catching on old kindling.
Now, in the hush that followed, the tiny puppy wiggled and wormed, a warm bundle of teddy-bear fluff that smelled faintly of the fireplace he’d been sleeping next to.
Her father had muttered something and disappeared into the darkness, leaving them alone. Jack blinked at her, snow caught in his lashes, looking suddenly twenty-five and hopeful.
She pressed the puppy into his coat so she’d have an excuse to break eye contact, then laughed when the little guy climbed up and tried to chew his ear.
“He likes you,” she managed.
“Poor thing has no taste.”
She smiled up at him. “I don’t agree.”
He looked at her for a moment, then sighed. “Come in for a minute?”
She nodded. “Gimme a second.” She glanced at the puppy, using him as an excuse, but really, she needed air more than the little guy needed to find his favorite patch of snow.
Setting him on the ground, she took a deep breath and centered herself.
Jack still loved her. What did that mean? Where did that leave them? Guess she was about to find out.
Scooping up the puppy, she went back into the cabin. In the warm glow from the fireplace, she could see the emotions playing over Jack’s handsome features—a little fear, a little hope, a lot of…yes, love.
