The tow truck guy is waiting by my parents’ car, hauled out on to the shoulder, when we get there. There’s a little dent up front, but otherwise it seems like the snow cushioned the blow. My dad steps out and pays him, and I unlock the doors and reach in for the ice scraper, going to work on the front windows. My dad pulls his own out of the back of his car and helps me. It takes a couple of minutes at most. Then he scans the car for any signs of damage and gives me a quick hug.

“See you back home?”

“I’ll meet you there. There’s—something I need to do first.”

My dad gives me a sly grin and heads back toward his car.

“Dad.”

“Yes?”

His eyes are wide, waiting.

“Dawson’s a good guy.”

He nods, like he’s spent a long time considering this. “Yeah,” he says, finally. “You’ve always been a good judge of character.” He gives me one last smile. “See you at home, honey.”

Then he slides into the driver’s seat, turns on his blinker, and pulls out onto the empty road.

My heart thuds loudly in my ears, and I take in a deep breath, letting it out. I can’t see from here if Dawson’s car is in the driveway. But what the hell. I’m going to go anyway.

I get behind the wheel and scan the road behind me, waiting way too long to make sure it’s clear, then I pull a U-turn and steer the car down Dawson’s driveway.

As soon as I turn in, I see his car.

He’s home.

My throat goes tight. It’s only been a few hours since we parted ways, but what does that matter when you’ve spent ten years apart only to discover that what you were missing was waiting here all along?

I park carefully beside his Jeep and take one last deep, cleansing breath. I’m hot underneath the collar of my coat, and the bitter air is a balm against it. Once again, I’m wearing the damn red hat. I could have at least done something—

Well, I didn’t, so this is where we are now.

At Dawson’s front door, the chill finally registers, and even the nervous heat I’m radiating under my coat can’t fend it off. If this were the middle of the summer, I’d probably stand here for ten minutes working up the courage to knock, but it’s damn cold out and Christmas Eve, so I raise my hand to the hard surface and bring it down three times. It’s a way more chipper knock than I planned, but fine.

There’s silence from inside the house and I strain to hear any hint that he might be coming to answer the door.

It’s less than thirty seconds later when he does, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at a collection of bills and credit cards in his pocket.

“Sorry, I just realized—”

“Hi, Dawson.”

His eyes fly to my face, his forehead wrinkling in confusion, and then the blue eyes widen. “India.”

“It’s me.”

“You’re not the pizza guy.”

We’re both trying so damn hard that it just about kills me.

I raise both palms up. “No, but if you want, I could go get some.”

“I ordered two.”

“Sounds good.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’d invite you in for some, but—”

“But I was an idiot earlier.” The words come out in a rush. I can’t wait anymore. I can’t drag this out. “I’m sorry, Dawson. It wasn’t pointless, what happened between us, and—”

He holds up one hand. “Come inside. It’s freezing out there.”

I step over the threshold, desperate to keep the conversation happening. “I never forgot about you. I never did, I swear. And when I saw you outside my car window, I was so—I was so relieved, and so damn ashamed, and—”

Then Dawson’s hands are on my face and he’s pulling me in for a kiss so soft, so unbelievably tender, that I melt right into him, throwing my hands around his neck, red hat be damned, puffy coat forgotten.

The kiss lengthens, deepens. He tastes like home. He tastes like being together at every holiday. He tastes like never having to worry again.

Tears slip out from underneath my lashes. “I’m sorry,” I mumble against the side of his cheek. “I should have come after you. I should have—”

Dawson pulls back to look into my eyes, his green eyes shining. “That is pointless. Don’t think about that fucking ten years anymore. We both should have gone after each other. But luckily—” He lets out a laugh. “Luckily you crashed your damn car into my ditch.”

I laugh then, too, a lightness suffusing my entire body, and then I kiss him again, pulling him in so close.

“But seriously,” I say when we break the kiss again, gasping for air. “You could have come found me at any time. All those other men—” I shake my head. “They were worthless.”

“I’m not worthless,” Dawson says with a wicked grin. “I own a bar. You could be the bartender’s wife.”

“Whoa,” I say, opening my eyes wide. “Don’t you think you’re going a little fast?”

He doesn’t hesitate, but he also doesn’t respond like it’s a joke. “Not. At. All.”

Another deep kiss, and when we come out of this one, he threads his fingers through mine, holding my hand tight.

“So, for Christmas,” he says, taking in a deep breath. “Your place or mine?”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care.” His tone is skeptical.

“As long as I’m with you.”