A few weeks later…
We sat in front of my brother Stone’s house, the engine still running.
I glanced at Crew. His jaw was tight as it always got when he was doing something outside his comfort zone. And meeting my entire family was definitely outside his comfort zone, even if he was a combat veteran. “It’s not too late to turn around.”
He turned off the engine. “No. We’re doing this.”
I leaned over and kissed his jaw. “I’ll make it up to you, tonight, I promise.”
He cupped my face, kissing me back. “You better.”
I grinned, imagining his reaction later on. I’d bought a sexy set of Christmas lingerie complete with white fur and a red ribbon. “Okay, here’s the cliff notes about my family so you don’t feel ambushed. Last year, my family barged in without knocking and found Evie and Stone mid-decorating—spent the next twelve months turning an inside-out sweater and misplaced garland into a holiday legend. Grandma runs the hot chocolate like a military op—she pretends it’s so good because of the cocoa, but we all know it’s the peppermint schnapps she sneaks in when no one is looking.”
Crew gave a short laugh. “Breathe, baby.”
I smiled at him and continued. I wanted him to like my family. “Jake and Connor heckle like they get paid per jab. Dad pretends he doesn’t cry when someone says something profound. And Mom pretends she doesn’t notice. Grandpa naps exactly when you need him. There’s probably a betting pool on something none of us agreed to. And if Jake says red lace, we are changing the subject.”
Crew’s mouth tugged at one corner. “Noted.”
“I mean it,” I said, and my voice softened before I could stop it. “They’re loud. They’re a lot. But it’s the good kind of a lot.”
He slid his palm to the back of my neck, thumb stroking once where my pulse jumped. “I can handle loud,” he murmured. “I just need to know where you are in the room.”
Something in my chest loosened. “With you,” I said, and opened the truck door.
The front door opened before we even got to the porch and the Christmas chaos hit all at once—the heat, the pine, the warm thrum of voices layered over the crackle of the fireplace. Jake and Connor materialized at Crew’s elbow like the ghosts of Christmas past and present wearing matching smirks.
“New lumber in the stack,” Jake announced, eyeing Crew like he was rating him for durability. “Think he knows the rules?”
“Rule one,” Connor said, counting on his fingers. “Don’t argue with Grandma’s cocoa ratio. Rule two, if Stone scowls, it means he’s happy. Rule three, if you hear family meeting, run.”
“Rule four,” Stone said, coming up behind our younger brothers. “Go help your grandmother.”
Jake groaned. “But we just—”
“Now.” Stone’s voice carried that big-brother authority that still worked even though they were all adults.
Evie came in behind Stone with a dish towel over one shoulder and that light in her eyes she only gets aroundChristmas. “Ignore them,” she told Crew, kissing my cheek and squeezing my hand. “We’re thrilled you’re here.”
I watched Crew take it in—all the overlapping threads that had always been my life. He didn’t shrink back or puff up. He set our bag by the stairs, shrugged out of his coat, and rolled up his sleeves like a man who’d decided he belonged in the picture and wouldn’t apologize for it. That did something to me. The confident way he moved, always wrapped in quiet.
Then the next wave hit. Grandma commandeered the stove for her cocoa, and Mom deputized me on cookie duty. Dad and Grandpa commandeered the remote and argued good-naturedly about whose team choked harder. Stone muttered something under his breath and then secretly adjusted the tinsel when he thought no one was watching. Jake and Connor continued to circle like cheerful wolves, tossing out commentary and ducking when I aimed a dish towel at their heads.
“So, Crew,” Jake said, leaning against the counter with that trademark smirk. “Charlotte says you’re temporary. That true?”
Crew’s hand found the small of my back, possessive and sure. “Not anymore.”
“Good answer.” Connor grinned. “Because if you hurt our sister, we know where to hide a body in these mountains.”
“Connor!” Mom scolded, but she was smiling.
“What? I’m just saying—”
“Boys,” Dad warned, but his eyes were twinkling. “Leave the man alone. At least until after dessert.”
Through all of it, I felt Crew’s attention like a hand between my shoulders—never clingy, never gone, just there, steady as a heartbeat. He fetched wood without being asked, lifted the cocoa pot when Grandma pointed with her spoon, fixed the loose chair leg with a quarter-turn of his wrist, and gave Mom the kind of yes, ma’am that earned him an instant seat at our table.
When our eyes met across the room, his softened—just a fraction, just for me—and it undid me faster than any pretty line.
