Molly

“Mommy, Mommy! Wake up!” Little hands grip my arm and shake me. “Hurry, you’ve gotta wake up or we’ll miss it!”

I squint at the clock on my bedside table through one eye and groan. It’s seven a.m. I didn’t come to bed until after three, and the idea of pulling myself out now makes me want to sob with exhaustion. “Hey, baby.” I pat the mattress beside me. “Why don’t you climb into bed with Mommy and see if you can fall back to sleep?”

“No sleeping, Mommy! You need to wake up. Lilly’s here. She’s going Christmas tree hunting.”

I push myself up, letting my blankets and their delicious warmth fall away as I try to figure out what Lilly and Christmas trees and hunting have to do with me waking up.

I blink at my son, who’s practically bouncing he’s so excited, and then spot Brayden leaning in my bedroom doorway. “Sorry about this,” Brayden says. “The guys told me the plan last night, and I meant to invite you when you got home from work, but it . . . slipped my mind.”

I rub my eyes and look at the clock again to make sure I didn’t read it wrong the first time. No, it really is seven a.m.

Brayden was up as late as I was. How the hell does he look so . . . conscious?

“What’s going on again?” I do my best to infuse my voice with a little enthusiasm for Noah’s sake, but . . . tired. “Lilly’s going hunting?”

Noah climbs on the bed, his eyes alight with excitement. He takes my face in his little hands. “For Christmas trees, Mommy! Brayden says I can come help!”

“If it’s okay with your mom,” Brayden says gently.

“You already have a Christmas tree,” I tell Brayden stupidly. I mean, obviously he knows that, but I’m tired and I’m going to need someone to explain this to me in short sentences. Preferably with caffeine.

“We all go together to pick out the tree for the family cabin every year. This is the first chance we’ve had to do it.”

“Oh. That makes more sense. I guess.” God, I’d kill for a cup of Shay’s coffee right now, and I’m pretty sure I can smell it brewing downstairs.

“You don’t have to come if you need to sleep, but we’d be happy to take Noah along.”

“Please, Mommy?” He takes my hand and squeezes it between both of his, and his unadulterated enthusiasm tugs hard at my heart. This kid is everything. “Please?”

“Of course.” I ruffle his hair with my free hand. Christmas tree hunting.

I always made a big deal of our traditions when we were in New York. We went to the Christmas tree lighting every year and ice skating in Central Park, and Noah has helped me decorate the tree since he was eighteen months old and barely had enough coordination to slide the ornaments onto the branches.

“And you’ll come too?” Noah asks.

Exhausted or not, there’s absolutely no way I could deny him such a simple pleasure. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Then hurry and get dressed. Lilly’s already here!” He scrambles off the bed and past Brayden, no doubt rushing back down the stairs so he doesn’t miss another moment with his beloved Lilly.

Brayden folds his arms and watches me climb from the bed. Closing my eyes, I stretch up onto my toes, reaching my arms high above my head. The little sleep I managed last night was definitely not enough. When I open my eyes, Brayden’s are skimming over me in my sleep clothes—just a red tank and a pair of flannel pants, but one would think I was wearing red lace from the heat in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” he says. “I planned to, but I didn’t remember until I was alone in my bed.”

“You could have woken me up.”

His lips curve into that sexy half-smile that could make me drop my panties in a heartbeat. “If I’d come in here and woken you up, something tells me I would have quickly forgotten again.”

“How long has Noah been home?” I feel like a bit of a slacker mom this morning. I’m pretty sure I was sleeping like the dead.

“Your mom got here about fifteen minutes ago. She’s still here, talking to Ava.”

Downstairs, the front door opens, and I hear a familiar female voice call out good morning, and Levi grumbling about how early it is. “Is that Ellie?”

“Oh, yes, it is. Levi went to her art show in Indiana yesterday, and they’re officially back together. Another piece of information I got last night and forgot to tell you.”

Warmth floods my chest. “It was only a matter of time.”

Brayden grunts. “Pretty sure it felt like forever for Levi.”

“Probably.”

He glances over his shoulder, maybe checking the hallway, and then steps into my bedroom. He closes the door behind him before prowling toward me. “Can you forgive me for being so irresponsible and forgetting to tell you about Jackson current events?”

I smirk. Sure, he could have remembered to tell me, but he wasn’t the only one desperate to get naked when I got home last night. And with him looking at me like that now, I’m wishing his family weren’t gathering downstairs.

He takes another step forward and slides his hands under my tank, his rough callouses scraping the sensitive skin on my belly as he looks down at me. “I’m glad you’re coming, but keeping my hands off you all day might be a bigger challenge than getting Levi out of bed before eight.” One thumb skims over my navel, and he lowers his mouth to my ear.

I arch into him, wanting his hands and mouth and . . . anything, anything he can give me in this little time we can steal before going downstairs.

But he steps back with a grin. “I’ll see you downstairs. Dress warm.” His gaze flicks to my breasts, so intense it’s like a physical brush against my nipples. “It’s cold out there.”

He walks out of my bedroom and closes the door behind him. The thought of waiting until after Noah goes to bed before I touch Brayden again makes me whimper, and despite the chill waiting for me outside, I rush to the bathroom to take a very cold shower.

Brayden

Noah is in heaven. He chases Lilly up and down row after row of pine trees as my siblings debate the merits of the shorter, fatter tree or the taller, thinner one.

Molly stands near Shay, delight all over her face as she watches her son race through the snow. She’s barely looked my way once today, and I’m more than a little impressed with her poker face. I’ve always been a private person, so I didn’t think keeping this secret would bother me, but it’s been less than twenty-four hours since we agreed we were doing this, and I already hate it.

I want to stand behind her and wrap my arms around her as we watch the kids play. I want to kiss her in front of my family and make sure they understand how important Molly is to me.

“I think Lilly’s found the first member of her entourage,” Ethan says, coming up to stand beside me.

“Noah idolizes her.”

“It goes both ways.” Ethan’s grin grows as Lilly doubles back and Noah turns so fast to follow that he falls on his face in the snow. Unfazed, he pushes himself up and resumes his chase. “She might not admit it, but she adores Noah. She’s been desperate to have more kids around.”

“She’ll be thrilled when Ava and Jake’s baby is born.” I eye my sister-in-law, who’s cradled in Jake’s arms as he stands behind her. He lowers his head to whisper something in her ear, stroking her rounded belly, and she grins.

“She will,” Ethan agrees. “You know how obsessed she is with babies. But it’s not the same. She’s already seven, and that age difference will mean that all the little cousins she has coming will be too young to be playmates.”

“Lilly the cousin-slash-babysitter.”

“Maybe in six or seven years.” Sighing, he shrugs. “I’m glad Noah’s around. He’s a good kid, and I’m grateful Molly lets him be a part of all this.”

As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Molly meets my eyes from across the clearing and gives a tentative smile. She’s gorgeous today. Every day. But there’s something about seeing her a little unraveled—no makeup, save for a little gloss on her lips, her hair in a sloppy bun on top of her head. When she came downstairs in a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie, I nearly tripped. Even my mom got quiet next to me. Molly couldn’t know what her appearance means to us, how important it is to everyone in my family that the people we call our own feel comfortable enough to be casual when it suits them. It’s something so minor that proves so much.

I return her smile and, while I have her attention, drag my gaze over her with slow, meaningful intensity. When I bring it back to her face, those pink cheeks have flared bright red.

“Daddy!” Lilly screeches. She stomps toward Ethan in the snow, Noah hot on her heels with his arms wrapped around his chest and his lip stuck out in a pout. “Daddy, tell Noah that Santa does not give presents to naughty kids.”

My gaze flicks to Molly, who’s gone pale, even with the frigid nip of the wind on her cheeks. She covers her mouth and her eyes go wide.

“She’s lying,” Noah says.

“Am not!” Lilly says, spinning on the poor kid. “And if you throw snow at me again, Santa won’t come.”

Ethan looks between his daughter and Molly but keeps his mouth shut while Molly jogs over to us.

“Noah said Santa brings presents to kids even if they’re naughty. Tell him that’s wrong!”

Ethan cringes, and I recognize the face of a parent who feels stuck.

I stoop and crook my finger to Lilly until she stomps closer. I lower my voice so only she can hear. “You know Santa’s going to bring you presents this year, right?”

She wrinkles her forehead, and I can see that stubborn calculation in her eyes. She doesn’t like to be wrong. “I know.”

“And be honest, kiddo, did you break the rules at all this year? Sneak an extra piece of candy from your Halloween bucket or run by the pool when your dad told you to walk?”

“Yeah, but I’m not naughty!”

I nod. “I know you’re not. In fact, you’re awesome, and I think you learn from your mistakes. I think Santa believes that too. I think Santa believes that about all kids.” I turn to Noah and signal him to join us. His bottom lip quivers, and he and his mom come over together.

Molly squats so she’s eye level with her son. “What do you have to say to Lilly?”

“Sorry I throwed snow,” he says. “I won’t do it again.”

Lilly lifts her chin and pats Noah’s head, clearly seeing this as her moment to shine as the big kid. “I forgive you, Noah.” She looks at me and then back to Noah. “And I’m sorry about what I said about Santa. I’m sure he’ll still bring you presents.”

I squeeze Lilly’s shoulder. “I think Nana is waiting for you over by the car. She needs some help pouring the hot chocolate.”

Lilly lights up. “Come on, Noah!” And they race away in a burst of flying snow and giggles.

Molly is staring at me.

“You handled that like a pro, Brayden,” Ethan says, already heading after the kids to meet them and Mom at the car. “Well done.”

I shrug, trying to read the look on Molly’s face, to understand the caution in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

“Are you okay?”

She shifts that worried gaze to Noah, whose eyes are big as my mom fills his mug with hot chocolate from the canister she brought. “I’m fine.”

I want to wrap my arms around her, to reassure her that whatever has her upset will be okay. But my family is watching. She doesn’t want them to see us together like that, and I hate it.

Molly

“Why have you never been married?” I ask Brayden Sunday night in bed.

“Why have you never been married?”

I huff out a breath. “I think that’s pretty obvious.” I pull back so I can see his face, but he’s completely serious.

I should be exhausted. I’ve been Christmas tree hunting on only a few hours of sleep, followed by meetings with three different couples interested in having receptions at the Jackson Brews Banquet Center, and then spent an evening decorating at the Jackson family cabin—because Noah was floating when we were invited and, honestly, I didn’t want to say no. I got Noah in bed later than usual and should have fallen right into my own bed after, but instead, I found myself naked in Brayden’s room.

“It’s not obvious to me,” he says, his eyes searching my face.

“Noah is my priority. I made a decision to put him first. But what about you? Are you a consummate bachelor, or what?”

He sighs heavily and rolls to his back, where he stares at the ceiling for several long beats of silence. “My siblings would tell you that I’m too closed off. That I haven’t had a serious relationship since Sara, because I don’t let people in.”

“Interesting.” Sara. I haven’t heard anything about her since I saw her at the tasting room Thursday night. I wonder what ever happened with that. Did he call her? Did she leave town again? “And what would you say?”

“I would say that you don’t grow up in a house like mine, seeing the way my parents loved each other, without being really damn picky about who you’re willing to share your life with.”

I study his profile, and something heavy presses on my chest. “You deserve to be picky.” Then, because I realize we’re talking about the possibility of him finding someone else, I jump to change the subject. “Thank you for what you did today—at the tree farm.” I sit up and lean back against the headboard. “You handled it perfectly.”

“It was nothing.”

It was everything. “Your family is pretty amazing.” I stretch my legs out and flex my feet. “I was always so jealous of that.”

Brayden rolls to face me. “Your mom’s great. And you have Ava and Colton.”

I huff out a breath. “Yeah, and Ava and I are great now, but she pretty much hated me the few years we lived together in high school, and Colton and I were never close.”

“Because he wanted you?”

I cringe at the reminder. Colton hasn’t felt that way about me in years, but his old crush combined with an instinctive protectiveness caused him a lot of trouble last summer. I shrug. “So he says, but I think he always liked the idea of me more than anything. I’m grateful for Ava and Colton, but if you walked into that stupid mansion when Nelson was alive, you would have understood why I envy your family.”

He sits up and cups my face in his big hand. “I don’t have to experience the chill of a house under Nelson’s rule to understand that. I know my family is special—have always known, even when I was a selfish teenager who wanted to escape their constant presence.”

“I’m grateful . . .” I swallow, measuring my words. “I’m grateful for your family. The way they include Noah. I want him to experience that. Even the fight with Lilly today—it’s like they’re cousins. My dad left when I was six, and every year after that until Mom married Nelson, I’d ask Santa for a family.” Brayden’s still watching me, so I drop my gaze to my lap and study my hands. “Maybe a ten-year-old is too big to believe in Santa Claus, but I did. I believed with the fierce passion of a child who needed to believe in magic to survive. Then Mom married Nelson, and I got a dad and stepbrother and stepsister in one fell swoop. I told everyone at school that Santa was real. They laughed at me, but I didn’t care. I knew.”

“But your new family wasn’t much of a gift at all,” he whispers.

I still can’t look at him. I pick at my nails. “The first time Nelson touched me, it was Christmas Eve. He told me I had to be quiet or Santa would hear and he’d take my presents away.”

The whole bed shifts as he tenses beside me. “That sonofabitch.”

“I knew then that there was no such thing as Santa or magic. Just adults who used the story to manipulate little kids. But I also knew that my mom was happy for the first time in years, and if I told her . . . if I admitted what happened, I’d be taking that from her.”

“Jesus,” he says, and anger comes off him in waves.

“That’s why I tell my son that Santa will come regardless of his behavior. Because Santa is love, and love is unconditional.” I shake my head. Almost without exception, I don’t talk about Nelson. I’m not sure what made me do it tonight. I could have explained this to Brayden without the details. And yet . . . “Maybe I shouldn’t have done the Santa thing with Noah, but we all need a little magic in our lives.”

“There’s nothing wrong with letting your child believe in magic. In something better for the hard days,” he says. His voice is so tight that I force myself to look at him and see his jaw is hard and those dark eyes are cold.

I don’t know what to make of his expression, but I’m already wishing I hadn’t shared so much, hadn’t let him see more of my broken self. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

His eyes flash to angry in a heartbeat. “I’m glad the sonofabitch is dead.”