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SIX YEARS EARLIER: CHRISTMAS FESTIVAL
MARCUS PALMER
Perfection.
Marcus stared down at the little glass display with wonder. This Christmas present was six months in the making, and he knew Wynter would love it. They’d only recently graduated from high school, and this was the first Christmas she’d be back from studying at Cornell University. New York was too far away. Marcus had hoped Wynter would have stayed closer to home and studied in Colorado Springs, but they didn’t have the right program.
Wynter was a wiz with bugs. She had been ever since she’d been a kid. And when they met two years ago, she’d shared her strange fascination with him.
Marcus handed over his credit card to the young woman behind the counter. It had been a gift from God that he’d found someone who knew how to pin bugs to pieces of cardboard anddisplay them correctly. Not that he hadn’t given it his best shot, but YouTube videos made it look far easier than it really was. He’d had it done this summer. Today, he was picking up the custom-built case that would ensure nothing would happen to the delicate bug inside.
He stared down at the purple butterfly he’d managed to catch a few weeks after Wynter had left for college. There was a slight nick in the right wing, but other than that, it was exactly what he’d hoped for.
Wynter was going to love it.
Marcus got his card back and hurried out of the store. Wynter was already in town, and he’d barely made it to the shop before they closed.
The summer Wynter had moved to Copper Creek had been the same year that Marcus had convinced his own parents to let him move to the town with his siblings. He’d still had two years left in high school, so it had taken a great deal of convincing, but Mateo had been up for the challenge.
That year Marcus and Wynter had attended the Christmas Festival together and promised that every Christmas Festival that came after would be the same. It might have been a ridiculous pact, but so far they were three for three, and Marcus had no intention of breaking it. For the next four hours, they would wander the town and sample what the Copper Creek Annual Christmas Festival had to offer.
In his truck, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, his nerves getting the better of him. Christmas music played on the radio, but it was nothing more than a faint buzzing sound as his excitement over seeing his best friend continued to grow.
He loved his family. But Wynter was his person. God had brought her into his life at the perfect time. She’d been there for him when he’d rolled his ankle and couldn’t play in the last football game of the season junior year. She’d broughthim her grandmother’s famous chicken noodle soup when he’d caught the flu during homecoming senior year. And when he’d been a complete mess after getting his wisdom teeth removed, she’d kept him company and prevented his siblings from taking embarrassing recordings of him coming out of anesthesia.
Yes, she was not the typical high school girl. He’d heard the words awkward, weird, and other terms describing her when he’d walked through the halls at school. But he’d put everyone who attempted to bully her in their place. No one knew Wynter like he did. And he’d been determined to protect her from everyone who couldn’t appreciate her for who she was.
When he arrived at Wynter’s grandmother’s home, which was where Wynter lived when in Copper Creek, he practically burst from his truck. With gift bag in hand, he hurried toward the front door. The small ranch house was built on a hill. There was a workshop and a barn, but Wynter’s grandfather only had one horse. He enjoyed working with his hands and making things.
The house sat on about five acres of land, and Wynter’s grandparents did well at maintaining it. One day, Marcus wanted something like this place. While he loved living with his siblings, he still wanted to move on and carve his own path. Maybe it was the fact that he was the youngest one in the Palmer family. Maybe it was because he felt like they didn’t need him as much. Either way, Marcus looked forward to a time when he’d find the right girl, settle down, and start a family.
He rapped his knuckles on the door and held the gift bag behind his back. Heavy footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor of the house, creaking with the weight of who could only be Wynter’s grandfather.
Marcus steeled himself to come face-to-face with the only man who had ever intimidated him. Most people in town werescared of Zeke Callahan. But he was nothing compared to the formidable man who opened the door.
Mr. Delaney’s white bushy brows lowered as he scrutinized Marcus with eyes that were capable of reading a man’s soul. His face was filled with lines of experience. There was something in his expression that always made Marcus feel as though Mr. Delaney thought he wasn’t trustworthy. Or maybe he wasn’t good enough to spend time with Wynter.
Two years of friendship hadn’t been enough to prove to the man that Marcus would always be there for Wynter.
Straightening his back and lifting his chin, Marcus smiled at the man. “Hello, sir. Is Wynter here?”
Mr. Delaney’s eyes narrowed. Endless seconds ticked by. Marcus shifted. He would have understood the man’s penchant for judging him if Marcus were here to go on a date with his only granddaughter. But that wasn’t what this was. They were only friends.
Bestfriends.
“Gramps.” Wynter sighed with exasperation, pushing past her grandfather. “Let Marcus in. It’s cold.” Her deep blue eyes flashed with amusement when they landed on him. In the right light, they almost looked violet. But then Marcus would get a closer look and the blue would return. Maybe it was the reflection in her wide-framed glasses. Her hair was dark, like his own, but long and wavy. When she wore it down, it reached her waist. Today, she had it braided.
“I’m okay,” he assured her. “Just wanted to give you this before we leave. I don’t think it would be a good idea to leave it in the truck.” He hoisted the gift bag.
Those eyes flashed bright and she grinned even wider. “Marcus! We agreed on no gifts this year. You’re saving up to move out.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t much.”
She eyed him skeptically and reached into the bag.
“Won’t you come inside, Marcus? It’s too cold out there,” Mrs. Delaney called from inside the house.
