Amy woke early, her arm stiff from being beneath her all night, but loving the feel of George being the “big spoon” behind her. She stretched, then snuck out of his arms and to the kitchen, where she started making coffee and quietly put bacon in a pan on the burner. It didn’t take long and George came up behind her. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“You need a big breakfast. We have a long drive ahead of us.”

“We do?”

“Yep. Today’s the second half of your present. Christmas dinner with my parents.”

“Oh.”

She reached for his arm, understanding the wariness in his voice. “It’s okay. I went down there this week, and had a long talk with them, and they really want to see you, George. You were his best friend. Now you’re my best friend. It’s time you came home for Christmas.”

Amy was pleased when he didn’t argue. Instead they ate bacon and eggs and toast while the sun was just coming up, and then she waited for him to throw a few things in an overnight bag. If they left now they’d be home by mid-afternoon. Just in time for her mom’s turkey and mashed potatoes and special sausage stuffing. When they got outside, she handed him the keys to her car. “You can drive if you want.”

“You’re sure?”

She laughed. “I’ve driven there and back already this week. I don’t mind being the passenger. Or we can swap at lunchtime. Whatever.”

The drive provided more opportunities for them to talk, and Amy loved the pride in his voice when he told her about his promotion and all the people who had brought presents. “I didn’t even open them yet,” he said, shaking his head. “I got distracted.”

“They’ll be waiting when you get back.”

“I didn’t know people felt that way. That they even noticed me.”

She reached over and took his hand. “People see you. I see you, George.”

He pulled the car over and kissed her for about five minutes, and then they hit the road again.

He got quieter, though, as she directed him to her neighborhood and they dealt with heavier city traffic. “You can see why I use the train to commute,” she said quietly, looking over at his tense face. “I love my neighbors and my job, but I have to tell you. I understand why you like Darling. There’s room to breathe there.”

When he pulled up in front of her parents’ house, he killed the engine and they sat there for a few moments. Her heart ached for him. This was a big deal, but she also knew what waited for him inside. He just had to be ready to take the step.

“You thinking about the last time you were here?”

He nodded, and she saw his throat bob as he swallowed.

“Ian was full of it. And the last time you were here you kissed me on the back step.” She grinned at him. “If you’d made your move, I’m not sure I would have been able to resist.”

His gaze locked with hers. “I wish I had. Maybe it all would have turned out differently.”

“Maybe. But we’re here now, right? And I’m happy, George. So let’s just be thankful for second chances.”

“I am,” he said, reaching for her hand. He lifted it and kissed her knuckles. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Okay. Then let’s go inside.”

* * *

George tried to keep his hands from shaking as he walked to the front door of the Merck house. It was just as he remembered; an older bungalow with a little front porch, but the paint wasn’t peeling at all, there was a wreath on the door, and Ian wouldn’t be waiting inside.

He looked over at Amy and gathered strength.

And when they reached the front door, it opened before he could knock. Mrs. Merck stood there, an older version of the woman he remembered, lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, but the same warm, welcoming eyes.

“Welcome home,” she said, and held out her arms.

He stepped into them and felt something beautiful slip into place. All the years of running, of wandering, of feeling in the way . . . it all evaporated with a hug from his best friend’s mother. This was what had been missing. Family. That they still invited him into theirs after all that had happened was the most humbling moment of his life . . . and he’d been humbled a lot.

When he finally let go, Amy and her mom both had tears in their eyes. Ian’s father stood behind, unsmiling, his expression filled with emotion. George held out his hand. “Sir,” he said quietly. “Merry Christmas.”

Owen Merck took his hand and gripped firmly. “We’re glad you’re here,” he said gruffly.

Amy cleared her throat. “Okay, then. Now that we got all that over with, let’s lighten things up. I’d say this constitutes an eggnog toast.”

Amy showed him to a spare room—not Ian’s old room, thankfully—and he stowed his overnight bag. When he got back to the living room, she handed him a glass of eggnog and invited him to sit down and relax. Their tree was a stunner, full of those glass balls he loved so much. Picture perfect, with white twinkling lights and a beautiful white angel on the top. Beneath it were presents, all opened, tidily arranged. There was one left, though, a little cloth gift bag with a wide ribbon and a tag on it. He leaned closer to try to read it. His name was on it.

Mrs. Merck saw the direction of his attention and got up from the sofa. “We have something for you, too, George.” She picked up the bag and took it to him where he sat on the sofa beside Amy.

“You really shouldn’t have done this.”

“We wanted to,” Owen said. “We’re just so glad to see you, son.”

Son. George’s heart constricted and he looked over at Amy, who was smiling wistfully. “Open it, honey,” she said, putting her hand on his knee.

She’d called him honey. This whole day, the last two days, were like something out of a dream. If it was, he wanted to open this last present before he woke up to reality.

He untied the bow and reached inside the silk bag. There was another box inside, smaller than the one Amy had given him, a little tin one like he’d seen in stores to put gift cards in. He carefully took off the lid and looked inside.

It was a card, the size of a business card, with a doctor’s name and appointment time written on it.

“I don’t understand.” He looked up.

“I told you I was good at red tape. This is an appointment with a counselor in Montpelier. He comes highly recommended, particularly with EMDR therapy.” Amy squeezed his hand. “That’s for PTSD. I thought you might prefer a male doctor to a female for this, but if you want to change we can find someone else.”

“But . . .” George looked down at the card. Yes, he was going to have benefits now, but would they even cover something like this or a portion of it? “I don’t know how to say this. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not sure I . . .”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. That his salary plus assistance allowed him to pay the bills but not have a lot leftover.

Owen spoke into the silence. “It’s paid for, George. For as long as you need.”

George put down the card. “I can’t accept that. I’m sorry, and it’s a wonderful thought, but I can’t.” They couldn’t know about what really happened that day if they were being so kind and generous. The eggnog churned in his stomach.

“We never did anything with Ian’s life insurance,” Owen explained. “Never felt right. But this . . . he’d approve of this. He’d want it for you. He’d want you to stop blaming yourself and for you to have a happy life.” Owen’s gaze slipped to Amy. “And if you’re going to date my daughter, I have a vested interest in your health. So let us help you, George. It’s what we want more than anything.”

George’s lip quivered but he regained control of it. “It’s so much more than I deserve.”

“Maybe someday you’ll see that’s not true,” Amy’s mom said softly.

“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know what else to say but thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Amy nudged his arm. “Why don’t we go set the table for dinner?”

“Sure.” He got the feeling she wanted to talk to him, in private, and the chore was just an excuse.

Once they were in the kitchen, she hugged him. “You’re not upset with me? I kind of took over and strong-armed you into everything.”

He shook his head, put his hands on either side of her face, and kissed her square on the mouth. “I’m not mad. I’m humbled, but not mad. No one has ever fought for me like you have.”

“Fought with you, you mean.”

Her saucy smile made him grin. “Tomato, to-mah-to.” He got serious again, though, because this mattered too much. “Growing up, I was scared to let anyone help me. Afraid that I’d get too attached to a place, or the people, and then have to give it up again. I’d act out so that I’d get moved . . . it was somehow easier if I rejected them before they could reject me. But Ian was different. I didn’t feel that way with him, and then I lost him. Letting you in should have been difficult, but it wasn’t. It was easy. And even when you were angry with me, it was because you were fighting for me. I just couldn’t see it. So thank you, Amy. I’m sure I’m not worth it but you sure as hell seem to think I am, and that changes everything. I won’t let you down.” He swallowed tightly. “I’m so done with running. I’m ready to have a home.”

She reached up and touched his face. “People occasionally let each other down,” she whispered. “But then they take each other’s hands and help them back up again. I’m good at loving people, George. Let me love you.”

His breath came out in a rush as he hugged her close. “God, Amy. You’re so easy to love. It’s way harder to let someone love me. But I’ll try.”

“Then kiss me and seal the deal,” she said.

He touched his lips to hers, his heart hammering against his ribs. How had this happened? Three weeks ago he’d been rebuilding his life, step by slow step. And Amy had blown in with a snowstorm and changed everything.

“Hey, George?” She kissed his cheek and he felt her lips curve against her skin. “You know that night we first kissed? At the bridge?”

“Yeah.” Like he could forget.

“I know what the legend says.”

He did, too. That whoever kissed on the bridge would have their love last forever. He gave her waist a squeeze. “Aw, that’s just fairy tales. Besides, we weren’t even on the bridge. We were across it, remember?”

She leaned back a few inches and grinned at him, her eyes dancing. “Well, I might have stumbled a bit, and put my hand on the railing . . .”

He laughed, and kissed her again, lifting her off the floor and spinning her around a bit.

The sound of the television came from the living room; some holiday special that had ‘Deck the Halls’ playing. “That’s Mom’s cue that we’re going to have company soon,” she whispered, giggling. “We’d better start rattling some dishes so she knows we’re not making out in here.”

And as George set plates around the dining table, he realized that living was better than existing, and loving was the greatest blessing of all.