“You can’t know how glad I am to have you back. In one piece.” He swallowed, searching for the next part. “But I need you to know… I have feelings for Tessa. I care about you. I always have. But?—”
She shook her head, a small, crooked smile already there.
“Scout, I know,” she said. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”
He went still.
“I had a lot of time to think,” Sara said. “And I get it now. We love each other, yeah. But it’s… family. That’s what you are to me.”
Something in his shoulders eased.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Same.” She turned to go, then glanced back over her shoulder. “Hey, Wilson?”
“Yeah?”
She wrinkled her nose. “You two make me sick, by the way.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, well. Join the club.”
Her smile went real then, crinkling the corners of her eyes. They both laughed, the knot between them finally gone.
From his spot near the coffee bar, Burke watched his people scattered through the café—Sara back on her feet, Tessa with Scout, volunteers and neighbors filling the room.
Caitlin slipped her hand through his arm. He pulled her in, pressing a kiss to her hair.
Rosie settled at their feet, bandanna askew, a crumb stuck to her whiskers.
Around them, the town talked and ate and refilled coffee cups while the music played on.
Sylva was still here. So were they.
62
Christmas Morning — Scout & Tessa
Snow dusted the windowsill. The world outside Black Bear Ridge was quiet.
Tessa woke first, tucked against Scout’s good shoulder, his breathing slow beneath her cheek.
She smiled against his skin. “Merry Christmas.”
His voice came rough with sleep, warmer than she’d ever heard it. “Merry Christmas.”
He shifted carefully, and she helped him sit, tucking a pillow behind his back.
“No gifts under the tree,” she said. “Unless you count still being here.”
He caught her hand with his good one, thumb brushing her knuckles. “That’s enough for me.”
They made coffee, moving around each other in an easy, careful rhythm. A few minutes later they were on the worn sofa—Scout stretched out, Tessa tucked under his arm, mugs warm in their hands, the fire crackling low.
Hisgaze dipped to her mouth. Hers caught on his throat, the curve of his jaw.
The fire snapped softly.
Nothing in the room was urgent.
He ran his thumb slowly over the inside of her wrist.
