“Well, I hope you’re ready for the rest of the holiday events. Oh, and if Gladys asks you about being on a show, decline immediately.” I pull him in for another hug and see my parents behind us, crying from happiness, of course.
Gram is eating gingerbread and shrugs. “I already saw my grandson when he walked in. We’re proud of you, boy.” She lifts her cookie in a “cheers” motion and then nods toward Jace, her gaze conveying her meaning to me.
I turn with a smile, eager to unite two of my favorite men besides my dad. “Freddie, this is Jace.” But my smile instantly falters, alarm entering my heart.
Jace looks like he’s seen a ghost, his hands clenched so tight that his knuckles are turning white. I can almost physically feel Freddie stiffen behind me, his amusement gone. When I glance back at him, I realize this is the look he must have when he’s on duty. It both frightens and startles me.
“We’ve met,” my brother says sternly, staring at Jace.
“I’m sorry. What’s happening here?” I speak from between the men. The noises around us and the mingling of the townspeople through the space fade like background noise in an airport.
“Let’s go, Emmy,” Jace says to his daughter kindly, though his eyes are suddenly distant, the warmth in them faded. He nods politely to my parents and Freddie, then his gaze turns to linger on me for an extra second. “See you around, Ivy. Congratulations on your win.”
Jace smiles sadly and walks away, picking up Emmy after a moment when her shorter strides can’t match his. My stomach clenches, wanting to run to him, but I realize I’m being held back by Freddie as he lightly touches my arm.
“Let him go, Ivy,” he instructs, and because he’s my brother, I listen.
Tonight, I won the gingerbread contest. But as my anxiety deepens and the tension in the room intensifies despite my brother’s return home, I watch Jace and Emmy disappear from sight, and suddenly, I’m questioning if I really won anything at all.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jace
So, her brother is back.
Walking swiftly back to Angie’s apartment—or at least, as swiftly as Emmy’s legs can keep up after she insisted she could walk once we got outside—I cringe. It’s been a long day and an emotional trainwreck—the likes of which I haven’t been on in a long time. Seeing Ivy so happy about winning the contest made me realize that if I could choose anything I wanted for the future, all I’d want to do for the rest of my life is make sure she smiles as much as she did tonight. We were the type of team that made me believe winning would be found in being together.
Freddie’s arrival instantly diminished the momentum I felt as we approached the upcoming holiday. He could easily take my place and cause any contribution of mine to not only vanish but also be unwelcome. He can help her finish the sets. He can walk her home from rehearsals. Understandably, she may not have as much time for Emmy and me this coming week. When I learned Ivy’s last name, I was able to familiarize myself with her family tree. Her brother is an actual, national hero. I looked him up and discovered that he was awarded a Silver Star Medal for valor in combat. Once, Freddie warned me to stay away from Ivy, and of course, she’s going to listen to her hero-brother over me.
Once we return to Angie’s, I put my troubling thoughts aside with a sigh. I boil pasta for a pot of homemade mac and cheese. The hour is later than Emmy usually eats dinner, but I didn’t have time to make anything before the gingerbread house contest, and I’m hoping the sugar was able to hold her over until I can feed her a proper meal, although I know that’s as likely as me fitting into a size small shirt.
Emmy is practicing her dance in the living room, the song playing from my phone on repeat. My mind is racing. If I could, I would go to In the Ring to get some nervous energy out, but I know how that ended last time. My knuckles still have light-pink marks on their edges.
“Bro, what are you doing?” Angie walks in, a clump of flour stuck to her hairline. Her eyes blink against the overhead kitchen light. I wet a paper towel and stand over her, wiping the white smudge away. “Thanks,” she says gratefully. “I was so tired after working on those extra pie orders for the holidays that I came home and crashed.”
“Sorry if we woke you up.”
“You didn’t. I set an alarm so I would eat something, shower, and not wake up at four in the morning.”
“Auntie A!” Emmy yells, registering that her aunt has joined us.
“Hey, kiddo.” My sister lifts her up and holds her tight.
Emmy immediately relaxes in her arms. “Will you braid my hair right now?” Her little hands frame my sister’s face, and I see the love between them.
Angie has been amazing during this transition. My daughter may not have her mother, and she may not ever have Ivy as more than a dance teacher, but she’s deeply loved.
“Of course I will! Get the things!” Angie sets her feet on the floor, and Emmy runs off to grab her hairbrush and what I know will be all kinds of sparkly hair accessories.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Okay, we have approximately thirty seconds.” Angie ignores my gratitude. I’d tease her, but she’s clearly on a mission. “What happened to you? You were fine when you left the apartment this morning.” She stares at me. “Never mind Grandma. You look like the one that got run over by a reindeer.”
“I hate that song,” I grumble.
Angie wears an instigating smile. “I know. That’s why I said it.”
I grab the pot of pasta and drain it into the colander I had waiting in the sink.
