“He always does.”
He pulled me in, strong and solid. The hug was quick, grounding, everything I needed.
“We’ll sweep the area, make sure he’s gone,” he said quietly. “Then everyone’s going home with their men. No detours. Kipp’ll drop Tayla off.”
“Got it.”
He pressed a kiss to my hair and stepped away. His hand brushed mine once before he turned back toward Fred, already speaking low.
Outside, the snow fell harder, covering the tracks and hiding the evidence that anything had happened at all. But the tension in the air didn’t ease. Not completely.
Somewhere out there, a man in a black truck was still moving. Still watching. Still waiting.
And deep down, I knew this was only the beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LINC
Nora’s kitchen looked like organized chaos by the time everyone showed up. Boots thudded across the porch, doors slammed, and voices rolled down the hallway like a flood no one bothered to stop. The smell of woodsmoke mixed with coffee, cider, and the faint sweetness of cinnamon. Jackets piled on hooks, gloves landed on the counter, and someone’s scarf was tossed across the table like a flag of surrender. The air shimmered with warmth, with breath, with the hum of a dozen conversations happening all at once. It should have been overwhelming. Instead, it felt like the first real breath I had taken all day.
After the hours of silence that followed that black truck on Main Street, I needed this. I needed the sound of people I trusted filling every space that danger had touched. Dealing with something other than her situation was a more than welcome reprieve.
Kristin was right in the middle of it. Her sleeves were rolled, her braid had half fallen apart, and loose strands curled against her neck. There was a faint smudge of flour on her cheek, though she hadn’t baked anything. She smiled at the right times, laughed when Fallon cracked a joke, but I could see the truth inher eyes. That tension didn’t leave her shoulders. She was still hearing that café door click open, still seeing the dark shape across the street. Still wondering if it was really over.
Fred came in last, snow dusting his shoulders. He stamped his boots clean and leaned his shotgun against the wall beside the door. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. The look he gave me was enough. We’ll talk later. He went straight for the coffeepot and poured a cup without asking.
“Alright,” Nora said, dropping her notebook on the table with enough force to rattle the saltshaker. “If we’re actually doing this Christmas Eve rodeo, we need a plan before we run out of time and sobriety.”
Tayla smirked. “We’ve got a few days left, and we know what we’re doing, and I think sobriety’s clinging by a fingernail.”
Fallon snorted and poured steaming cider into mugs. “So, business as usual.”
Laughter rolled through the room. The sound was sharp at first, then softened into a steady tone. Even Kristin laughed, her shoulders loosening a fraction. She brushed her hand across mine as she passed, fingers warm from the mug she was carrying. I caught her hand and gave it a small squeeze. She squeezed back without looking up, and for a second, it felt normal again.
Nora cleared her throat. “We’re hosting, which means we’re responsible for everything. Arena setup, concessions, lights, music, livestock, parking, crowd control. And no one mentions last year’s fiasco.”
Kipp raised his hand. “You mean when Griff fell off the hay wagon into the cocoa table?”
Griff frowned. “Are you planning to bring that up every Christmas or just until I die?”
“Both,” Kipp said, grinning.
Nora pointed her pen at him. “Exactly the attitude that cost us a fifteen-hundred-dollar cleaning bill.”
Kristin’s quiet laugh slipped out again, the sound more real this time. I leaned back, arms crossed. “You know what I think?”
“Here we go,” Nash muttered.
“I think if we’re doing this, we make it count. Not just another rodeo and auction. We go big. Lights, music, a bonfire, food enough for the whole town. Something that feels like everyone belongs.”
Fred looked up. “That’s what Miller used to say every time we planned one. Make it matter.” The words hit hard; we all missed Kipp, Fallon, and Tayla’s dad every day. This entire place was standing because of him, and it took five of us to fill his boots. For a moment, nobody spoke. Kristin rested her hand on the back of a chair, tracing the grain with her thumb.
“He’d want that,” Tayla said softly.
I met her eyes. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Nora cleared her throat and brought everyone back to work. “Alright then. Griff, Kipp, Nash, setup. Pens, fencing, bleachers, lights, sound, all of it.”
