I approach the barn with my heart thudding like a jackhammer and an apology ringing in my ears. I don’t know why Brandon wants to talk out here, but I’m game for meeting him anywhere. I’d join him at a slaughterhouse if it meant I got the chance to say I’m sorry.

“Why are you bringing me?” Amber whispers. She blows on her gloved hands as she trudges beside me, boots crunching in the snow. “Shouldn’t you do this alone?”

“He asked for you,” I tell her. “Maybe he wants a witness in case I flip out again. Or maybe he wants to talk about—oh.”

All my words, all my theories vanish as my eyes land on the scene beside the barn. Brandon stands with a flashlight beam trained on Tammy. She’s facing away from him, the outside tines of her massive antlers pressed against the barn to form a sort of makeshift prison cell.

A cell that currently contains one miserable-looking photographer.

“Zak?” Amber steps forward, brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on here?”

Brandon toes a gas can on the ground at Zak’s feet. “Want me to take a guess?” he asks. “Or you want me to just tell you what the police chief shared a second ago when I texted him a photo of this?”

“Chief Dugan was out here taking fingerprints off the south gate this morning.” I stare at Zak, who has the good sense to stare at his feet. “I have a hunch I know whose they are.”

Amber takes two more steps forward and rests a hand on Tammy’s neck. That makes two furious-looking females with their eyes trained right on Zak. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Babe,” he says. “I can explain.”

“No, you can’t.” Amber shakes her head. “Not to me, anyway. To the police, maybe.”

Zak shoots a pleading look at Brandon. “Help me out here, man,” he says. “You know what it’s like to do stupid shit over a woman.”

“You’re right there,” Brandon says, and my heart does a funny little lurch. “But you passed stupid a few miles back and headed down the road to certifiably nuts.”

“What the hell are you talking about, anyway?” Amber demands. “How does screwing up our farm—”

“—and their website,” Brandon adds.

“—and our ODFW paperwork,” I add. It’s a guess, but I can tell from the flush in Zak’s cheeks it’s the right one. How many times has he ducked into my office to recharge camera batteries? And I’m ninety-five percent sure he has a sister who works for the post office.

“All of that is beside the point,” Amber says. “How on earth would any of that help you out?”

Zak tries to move, but Tammy stomps a hoof in the dirt at his feet. She shifts her head a few inches, bringing her sharper eye-guard tines within inches of Zak’s throat. Her antlers are much too long for him to reach out and grab her halter, but one of us could do it.

We could, but we choose not to. The reindeer headlock is working just fine.

“Did you do all of that, Zak?” I demand.

He doesn’t answer right away, which is fine. I’ll leave it to the cops to question him properly.

“Look, Amber and I were supposed to get married,” he mutters.

My sister stares at him. “We were?”

Zak gives an exasperated snort. “Well, we would have,” he snaps. “We were on our way to that point before you got this crazy idea to open a reindeer ranch. If it weren’t for this stupid farm and these stupid reindeer and—gah!”

Tammy shifts again, all four-hundred pounds of her pressing forward. I don’t know if she’s pissed about Zak’s words or the role he played in harming her calf. Could be that dinner’s a little late.

“Look,” Zak gasps. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. I just thought if Amber realized this whole thing was a bad idea, she’d come back, and we could pick things up where we left off.”

“I can’t believe you did this.” Amber shakes her head, and I can tell she’s in that zone between hurt and fury. That place where you’re too damn angry to cry. “I trusted you,” she chokes out. “And you risked my family, my livelihood, my animals—”

Tammy moves again, and it’s enough for Zak to see an opportunity. He ducks between the tines of her antlers and takes off running, his boots slipping in the snow as he tears across the paddock toward the gate.

“Stop!” Brandon takes off after him, more sure-footed in the slush than Zak is. Zak bobs left, then right, zig-zagging across the pen. But he’s no match for Brandon’s speed and power, and definitely no match for a guy who knows how to tackle.

Down they go, a tumble of limbs and curse words, with Brandon landing on top of Zak in an undignified heap.

“Get off me!” Zak grunts.

“No way.”

The two men flail as Amber and I hurry toward them with Tammy right behind us. While there’s no longer any question what sort of guy Zak is, I’m still dismayed to see he fights dirty. Turning his head to the side, he bites Brandon’s arm.

“Son of a bitch!” Brandon yelps.

Zak struggles again, nearly tipping Brandon off his body.

A gunshot cracks the inky night. Everyone freezes.

I turn to see my sister holding the .357 overhead, its snub nose aimed at the sky. She draws it down like a goddamn gangster, and I half expect her to blow smoke from the barrel. She turns and looks at me.

“I grabbed the right gun this time,” she says.

I nod and stare at her. “Yeah, you did.”

“Jesus,” Zak sputters, and I turn to see him spit dirt out of his mouth. “You guys are fucking crazy.”

“Ha!” Amber stomps through the slushy bark until her boots are inches from his face. Tammy follows behind like a bodyguard with antlers. “That’s rich, coming from the asshole who thought he could win a woman by ruining her life.”

She’s not pointing the gun at him, but she’s still holding it. Zak’s gaze stays fixed on the muzzle, and he seems to rethink the idea of saying anything else.

Brandon looks at me, then at Zak, then Amber. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”

He heaves himself off Zak and stands up, brushing dirt off his jeans.

“Fucking rent-a-cop,” Zak mutters. “Running around here like a ‘roided out security guard.”

“Good, since that’s what I hired him to do,” Amber snaps. “And I wouldn’t have had to if it weren’t for you and your bullshit, Zak.” She turns to me and frowns. “Um, sorry.”

I look at my sister and wonder why I’m not more surprised. “You asked Zak to be Security Santa?”

She nods, looking sheepish. “Are you mad?”

I shake my head, flooded with a hundred different emotions, but none of them anger. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “We needed help. And I needed to pull my head out of my butt.”

A disco flutter of red and blue lights dances across the pasture, and we all turn to see a police cruiser coming up the driveway. Brandon must have summoned them, or maybe it was the gunshot. Instead of feeling annoyed, I’m filled with gratitude.

“Brandon,” I whisper, turning back to him. I need to get the words out fast before we have company. “I’m so sorry about our conversation this morning. The things I said to you. I was hurt and lashed out and—well, anyway. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” He shakes his head, looking genuinely baffled. “What on earth for?”

“For being a bitch,” I say. “For not giving you a chance to help when that’s all you were trying to do.”

“No, Jade, I’m sorry.” He steps forward and takes my hand. “You had every right to be upset. I understand why you felt disrespected and threatened and—well, you shouldn’t feel that way on your own property. Or anywhere, ever.”

He’s looking at me like he wants to say more, and I wonder what it is. I wonder if he knows about high school, about why Matthew’s words poked and pinched like barbed wire around my heart. Something tells me he does. Something tells me we’ll have time to talk about it later. To spread our stories out on the kitchen table and exchange them like Christmas cards.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I can stand up for myself.”

“I know you can.” He squeezes my hand. “And I’m so damn proud of you for that.”

I shake my head, still needing to apologize. “I could have been more tactful,” I tell him. “And I definitely shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“No, Jade—couples argue. It happens. It was a simple disagreement we could have resolved like adults. I’m the one who stomped out of here like a toddler having a tantrum. That’s not me. I can promise that won’t be me ever again if you give me a chance to prove it.”

He takes my other hand, and we stand there with our gloved fingers interlaced as lights from a second police car dance across the snow.

“I definitely believe in second chances,” I say. “For both of us.”

“Good,” he says. “Because I love you. I love you, and I want to make this thing work between us.”

Something pings through my chest like a lightning bolt going off in a hay field. Tears sting my eyes, and I squeeze Brandon’s hands so hard I hear a knuckle pop.

“I love you, too,” I breathe. “So much.”

“Oh, puke,” Zak grumbles.

“Shut up!” Amber snaps, pointing the pistol at him.

Beside her, Tammy bends her knees in a slight squat and offers proof of our commitment to ensuring the livestock are well-hydrated. Rivulets of reindeer pee trickle through the snow-caked dirt in a direct path toward Zak’s head.

“Gah!” he grunts and tries to roll away.

My sister plants her boot on his chest and waves to the cops trudging toward us through the pasture. “Over here! Hurry!”

I turn back to Brandon, breathless in the cold air. “I love you,” he says again. “So much.”

“Me, too.”

As far as romance goes, it leaves something to be desired. My toes are frozen, and we’re standing in barn muck and reindeer pee while my sister holds a gun on her ex. This isn’t the love scene of my youthful fantasies.

Somehow, it’s better.

And as Brandon draws me into his arms, I can’t think of anyplace I’d rather be.