A trembling breath leaves me.“But Kevin…”
“Kevin is a coward hiding behind lawyers and headlines. He clearly knows you’re the better parent for Mia if he is stooping this low.”
“But he’ll twist this,” I whisper.“He’ll say I ran off to play house with a cowboy. He’ll say…”
“Let him,” Ethan says quietly.“Because I’ll be right there proving every word is a lie.”
Snowflakes melt on his lashes. His breath clouds between us. His voice is low, rough with protectiveness.
“You didn’t leave your‘husband.’You escaped a man who broke you. And you didn’t kidnap Mia, you took your daughter out of the emotionally abusive environment you grew up in.” His chest rises sharply.“And if the world wants a fight, they can fight all of us. You hear me? Every Hawthorne in that house would burn the world down before they let you or Mia get hurt.”
A small laugh slips out of me.“I noticed.”
“Grace nearly tackled me when I took too long to follow you out the door.” He smirks.“You’re one of us now. That comes with… enthusiastic levels of overprotection.”
Snow crunches under his boots as he steps closer, pressing his forehead to mine.
“I hate that you saw that article today,” he murmurs.“Christmas should be joy and ugly sweaters and Jace cheating at Monopoly.”
“Hedoescheat,” I whisper.
“He absolutely does.” Ethan smiles softly.“And tomorrow we’ll tell my lawyer. And we’ll handle it. But tonight…” He brushes my hair back, fingers gentle.“Tonight is Christmas. And you’re here. With me.”
My throat tightens.“Ethan…”
“Yeah, Venus.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.” He kisses my forehead.“But you’re not alone.”
He takes my hand again, lacing our fingers. We start walking toward the barn lights glowing warm in the distance, snow settling on our hair, our clothes, on the trail behind us.
I’m still scared, so scared, but I also know I’ll fight this with everything I’ve got, and Ethan will be right there with me.
CHAPTER 29
Ethan
It’s the day after Christmas, one of those quiet mornings where the whole world feels softened, as if wrapped in wool. The house still smells like cinnamon and leftover peppermint cocoa. Outside, a thin layer of snow dusts the porch railings, untouched, perfect.
I’m halfway through restocking the wood basket when the mail truck shudders to a stop at the end of the drive. The mailman steps out, his breath fogging in the air, and hands me a single envelope, thick, official, heavy. Addressed to Summer.
My stomach drops like a stone.
I carry it inside, the weight of it burning against my palm.
Summer is curled up on the couch with Mia pressed against her side, the two of them wrapped in the fuzzy reindeer blanket they got yesterday. Mia is completely absorbed in the animated movie on the screen, clutching her new ballerina doll with both hands. Summer strokes her hair in that soft, absent way she does when she feels safe enough to let her shoulders drop.
I hate that I’m about to shatter that peace.
“Baby,” I say quietly.
Her head lifts immediately. Her eyes are bright, her smile warm, until she sees the envelope in my hand. The color drains from her cheeks as if someone pulled a plug inside her.
“This came for you,” I whisper.
She presses a soft kiss to the top of Mia’s head.“I’ll be right back, sweet girl.”
