The small town is a sight to see year–round, but they really go all out during the Christmas season.
As we pass the welcome sign, there is garland strung above the road in red, white, green, and gold, crisscrossing and zigzagging this way and that. There are baubles hung haphazardly within it. The baubles aren’t the only things hanging from the garlands though. There are also icicles, snowflakes, and tinsel.
I fucking hate tinsel.
I’m sure that also strung in all of that mess, is an obscene amount of Christmas twinkle lights.
And we haven’t even gotten to the center of town yet.
As the tires crunch over the soft snow, still lightly falling all around us, I look over to tell Anya something, but all the words freeze in my chest. I don’t even remember what I wanted to say.
Though the snow is swaying in the light breeze, the sun is doing its best to shine through the minimal cloud coverage, and is coming through the windshield, making her look like an angel that deserves to be set on top of the town’s tallest Christmastree for all to see. Seeing her like this, and the look of wonder brightening her usually serious face, is a sight to behold.
The sight settles me even further and my polar bear preens with a self-satisfied huff that I interpret as “She loves our home.”Smug bastard.He’ll never let me live this down.
Soaking in all of her emotions steadily streaming through our bond, I take my turn in resting my hand on her thigh with a squeeze. “Do you . . . do you like it?” I ask, already knowing, but needing her to say it.
“I love it.” Her voice is small and watery, but full of happiness, with a trace of excitement, as we continue moving through the streets of the small town.
As we get closer to my childhood home, I feel the need to warn her. “I don’t know what you’re expecting but the house is . . . it’s a bit much.”
She laughs it off until the corner it comes into view, and she chokes on her words . . . or spit, I’m not sure.
The monstrosity of a house looms at the end of the street, looking like something out of a seasonal, sappy movie. The large log cabin wouldn’t look like a Christmas disaster without all the extras, but as the resident Santa, the house checks every box you’d expect, the fresh snow adding to the ultimate Kringle vibes.
Lining the massive structure, is a puffy, white silicone trim that makes it look like a real-life gingerbread house. The front details and the main ridge of the rooftop are also outlined by huge decorative pieces that look like gumdrops. There are giant candy canes lining the drive and up the front walk to where two, two-foot green, red, and white peppermint wheels are perched on either side of the front door. Above the threshold is an oldwooden sign declaring “The Clause’s” even though our legal last name is Northerly.
“You grew up here?” Anya breathes beside me.
I can feel her eyes on me, and because my voice isn’t working, all I can do is nod.
Hastily parking the SUV off to the side of the driveway, not blocking in anyone’s vehicle, I get a prickling beneath my skin telling me they know I’m here. We may not have our direct familial bonds anymore, but my instincts are still strong, albeit stronger now that I’m back home.
“Let me get out first and make sure everything’s okay. We can stay in the lodge in town if they’re not happy with us being here,” I request pleadingly.
I should have known not to waste my breath. The second I’ve pulled myself away from our vehicle and positioned myself in the center of the path to the door, she slams herself into me, wrapping her arms as far around my middle as she can, and leaning her head back to stare into my eyes.
While I allow myself to get lost her in her eyes, the door creaks open and my body stills, locking tight beneath Anya’s grasp, letting my focus slowly swivel to my . . .“Mam.”
A broken sob slips past her lips, nearly bringing me to my knees where I stand. “Kodiak?” She begs me to confirm my presence, but all I can do is nod as her watery gaze volleys between Anya and me.
I open my mouth to speak, but everything stills once more as Father walks up behind Mam on the porch. I’m sure she’s informed him of our arrival through their bond. His face gives nothing away. I don’t even know if we’re welcome here.
I’m shaken from my worries by a small shiver moving through Anya, reminding me that my little mate is human and it’s barely two degrees out here.
I’m once again opening my mouth to say something when I’m halted by Father. “Why don’t you come in out of the cold?” he says before turning and stalking back into the house, dragging Mam with him. He’s always had a way of making suggestions sound like anything but.
Anya pulls me into motion and we make our way up the candy cane lined pathway and into my childhood, gingerbread house home.
30
Anya
My brain, eyes, and heart are moving a mile a minute, taking in everything as we step over the threshold into the cutest house I’ve ever seen, as the cutest little woman scurries to take our coats.
Kodi’s mother isadorableand so small that it’s hard to believe she gave birth to my mammoth mate. But the resemblance is there. The way their eyes crinkle when they smile. The white-blond hair they both have. His dimpled chin and black eyes come from his father though, who is definitelystruggling with his emotions . . . he looks pained and confused but I think he’s just sorting through his thoughts.
“Here, here, let me take those,” his mother says as she continues to worry over us and our extra layers.
