“Emmalyn! We are waiting for you to decorate the tree,” I yell up the stairs. Dad is checking the strands of lights to make sure they work, and Mom is setting up a hot chocolate bar. I’m going through a box of ornaments when Emmalyn makes her way into the warmth of the living room. She has a Santa hat on and a pair of black-and-red checkered flannel pajamas. I smile because I still see the little girl in her, rather than the preteen that likes to drive me crazy.

“I get to put the star on top, Grandpa.” She skips toward him.

“You guys have thirty minutes to get that tree decorated before White Christmas comes on,” my mom says.

I see the moment a shadow of sadness briefly crosses Emmalyn’s face. This was Timber’s favorite Christmas movie. She started the tradition of us watching it every year. Emmalyn loves the movie, but I think this is when she feels her mother’s loss the most. I would give anything to see her mother snuggled between us, sipping on her hot chocolate, and singing the words to every song. I miss her more and more every day that Emmalyn gets older. The pain of losing her still remains, but I bury it so that Emmalyn doesn’t get lost in it. We both keep pictures of her by our beds. To this day, Emmalyn still picks it up and kisses her good night. Sometimes, I can hear her talking to her, and it almost breaks my heart.

Timber was so excited about having a baby. She didn’t get near enough time with her, but she fell in love with her the minute she laid eyes on our new baby girl. I remember her being so conflicted about leaving Emmalyn to go to her class reunion. She cried the night before she left. I’m the one that convinced her she should go. God, if I could take anything back, I would have never let her go. I live with that guilt every stinking day.

We met when my mom and dad took me on a month-long vacation to Utah before my senior year of high school. We were staying at a resort and Timber, who was two years older than me, was working in the restaurant. She waited on us, and I couldn’t quit staring at her. She was strikingly beautiful, and I fell in love with her at that moment. It took her a little convincing, but by the end of the week, we were inseparable. After shifts, we would meet up down by the lake. It was all so innocent. She would sing, and we would dance by the moonlight reflecting off the water. We made out like crazy, but she wanted to remain innocent until her wedding day.

My senior year, we wrote each other every day. My parents wanted me to date other girls, but I knew who I wanted and no one else compared to her. She drove her old Dodge Dart up to New Hampshire for my graduation, and she never left. She got a job working downtown, and a year later, we married. When my parents got to know her, they finally understood why she was my other half and looking for someone else would have been a waste of my time.

I worked for my dad and saved up money for a down payment on a stone cottage house. Timber fell in love with it the first time she saw it. She loved that it sat out away from town. It was the perfect place for her to practice with the band she wanted to start. My dad and I built her a studio out back, away from the house. Timber and I spent half our lives in that studio—either watching her play music or making love when the band left. We would both be so hyped up from the music that we were ripping each other’s clothes off as soon as the band members left.

Emmalyn was born in that house. Timber’s water broke four weeks before she was due. I was working at the time, so when she called me, I called the ambulance and headed to her. The paramedics got there just in time for Emmalyn to make her appearance.

After Timber died, Emmalyn and I moved in with my parents. I was only there a few months before I had to go to boot camp. I’ve never had the heart to sell it, so I use it for seasonal rentals. I haven’t been there in years. A rental property management company takes care of everything.

“Dad, pick me up so I can put the star on top.” Emmalyn stands with her arms in the air.

I was so lost in thought, I didn’t even see them decorate the tree. I stand and place my hands on her waist. “You are getting too big for me to do this.” I bend my knees, picking her up.

“Are you saying I’m fat?” She looks down at me.

“No.” I laugh. “Just hurry up,” I grunt, teasing her.

I set her down, and she grabs the remote from my dad and turns on the lights. “There. Now it’s Christmas time.”

“The movie is starting.” My mom turns up the volume, and we all join her on the old plaid couch.

For the next two hours, we sip hot chocolate and sing along with the movie. Well, except for my dad. His head is drooping, and a soft snore is coming from him.

Emmalyn lets a yawn escape, cuddling into my side. “I think it’s bedtime, kiddo.”

“Will you tuck me in?”

Who can say no to that? It’s rare that she lets me anymore. I nod, and we take the stairs to her bedroom. I pull back the covers, and she jumps in. “I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Dad.” She puckers her lips up for a kiss. I bend down and kiss her cheek.

“Good night.” I walk into the hallway.

“Good night, Dad.” Before her door is fully closed, I hear, “Missed you tonight, Mom. I sang all the songs for you, and I kept Dad company.”

My heart shatters. Here I’m the dad, thinking I’m taking care of her and she’s really the one taking care of me. Timber’s death tore my world apart, but Emmalyn helped put it back together. She was my reason to survive.

I lock up the house and turn off all the lights, except for the Christmas tree lights. One ornament catches my eye. I bought the tiny wooden guitar for Timber our first Christmas together. I push it with my finger, causing it to sway back and forth. I sit in my dad’s recliner and watch it until it finally stops moving.

“I love the feel of your hair when it brushes across my bare chest.” I barely breathe out the words with Timber riding me. My hands are on her sweet hips, helping her keep a rhythm.

“I think you like when any part of me touches you.” She leans down, snagging my lips with hers.

“I especially like the part that’s squeezing my cock right now,” I grit as I come inside her, and she throws her head back as her orgasm rakes through her body. When she finally comes back down to earth, she lies on top of me, keeping our connection.

I run my hands through her silky black hair, brushing it out of her face. “Now that’s the way to start every morning.”

She laughs, and her hand slaps my chest. “You say that’s the way to end every day too.”

I wrap my arms around her. “And, what’s so wrong with that?”

She looks up at me with those deep cinnamon eyes. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Dad, I’m going to be late for school.”

Emmalyn’s voice and her hand shaking my shoulder startles me. I blink a few times trying to brush my dream off. “I’m up.” I lower the footrest of the recliner. I run upstairs to change clothes and pull on my boots. I run back downstairs, and Emmalyn is standing at the door impatiently tapping her foot with a glare in her eye that would kill a weaker man. I open the door and walk out. “Come on. What are you waiting for?” I tease her. She does her typical thing and gives me her usual eye roll.

“Some days I don’t know who the parent in this relationship.”

I laugh out loud. She sounds way too grown up for her age. “I’m the parent and don’t you forget it.” I open the door to my Wrangler, and she hops inside.

Thankfully, we haven’t had snow in a few days, and I’m able to get out of the driveway. If she had to wait for me to shovel the snow, I’d never hear the end of it. “Did you grab your lunch Grandma made you.”

“Dang it.” Her fist hits the door.

I keep one hand on the wheel and pull my wallet out with the other. “Here, take what you need.” She pulls out a twenty-dollar bill. “Boy, lunch sure is expensive.” I chuckle.

“You never know what a young girl might need.” She bats her long dark lashes at me.

“You are just like your mother. She was always taking money out of my wallet.”

She gets really quiet for a moment. “I’m glad I’m like her,” she whispers.

“Me too, baby.”

I drop her off. It’s the last day of school before Christmas break. I plan on taking a day or two off, so her and I can go snowmobiling. I know how much she loves it. When I pull into the outdoor store, the parking lot is already full, and customers are waiting outside. It’s our preholiday sale. I look at my watch; we don’t open for another fifteen minutes. I pull my Wrangler around back, so I can use the employee entrance. I stop and speak to a couple of employees, then make my way to my office.

Dad must already be here because there is a pile of mail on my desk. I shrug out of my jacket and hang it on the coat rack. I sit at my desk and flip through the mail dividing it into piles. “Junk, junk, bills…Shay.” I drop the rest of the mail and tear open her letter.

I get to the part about remarrying and sit back in my chair. I’ve never thought about getting married again because I could never love someone like I did Timber. It would have been nice for Emmalyn to have a mother figure, but I would never want to risk someone dying again in her life, not at her age. Dad said she lost her shit when they were notified by the Army that I was in the hospital. He said she barely ate or spoke until she knew I was going to be okay. She was heartbroken enough over Wolfe.

I grab a pen to write her back as my dad comes barreling through the door. “I need you to come downstairs and convince old Buck to get off the ladder.” He’s huffing from running up the stairs. Such is my day trying to keep a seventy-year-old man who refuses to retire, from killing himself and giving my dad a heart attack.