Mama tries to hide her tears but fails, wiping at her cheeks.“I just cannot bear the thought of them going back,” she whispers.
I pull her into a hug.“They will not,” I promise.“I will not let that happen.”
She nods, sniffling.
“Christmas is in a few days,” I say, the idea forming before I know it is there. I lower my voice, like Summer might somehow hear me from upstairs.“I want to give them the best one they have ever had. Something that takes the sadness away, even if it is just for a little while.”
Mama touches her hand to her heart.“What did you have in mind?”
I smile, small but real.
And we start to plan.
Christmas is going to be so good they will not have room left to worry about Kevin.
Summer
Ethan is taking Mia and me out for lunch. He straps Mia carefully into her princess car seat, tugging on the buckle twice just to be sure it is secure, then rounds the truck and climbs behind the wheel. When he turns the key, cheerful music bursts from the speakers, bright, bouncy, unmistakably Mia’s favorite cartoon soundtrack.
Before I can tease him about it, Ethan starts nodding along to the upbeat rhythm. Mia joins him, bopping her little head and kicking her sparkly boots, and the sight hits me straight in the chest.
Then Mia starts to sing, her tiny voice high and sweet, and two seconds later Ethan joins in like it is completely normal for a six-foot firefighter cowboy to duet with a four-year-old princess. He knows every word. Every lyric. Every ridiculous key change.
When the high notes come, he exaggerates them just to make her laugh, eyes widening comically as he forces his voice up two full octaves. Mia bursts into giggles, delighted, and something inside me cracks open.
He has her playlist on his phone.
He knows the words.
He wants her to laugh.
And suddenly I know in my bones that I am not letting Kevin take this from us. Not now. Not ever.
So I breathe out, smile, and sing along with them. Mia’s grin somehow gets even bigger, and Ethan reaches over, finds myhand without ever breaking tune, and brings my knuckles to his lips.
My heart flips.
The bell above the diner door jingles as we walk in, letting in a swirl of cold air and the smell of frying onions and cinnamon rolls. The place is busy, ranch hands at the counter, a couple bundled up in thick coats near the window, the Christmas tree in the corner glowing warm and golden. Ethan places a hand on the small of my back, guiding Mia and me toward a booth like he always does, steady, protective, without making a show of it.
Mia climbs onto the red vinyl seat, bouncing once before settling, her little boots knocking together under the table. Ethan hangs his hat on the hook, slides in beside her, and hands her a menu even though she cannot read half of it. She beams like she is making very important life decisions.
“Milkshake?” she asks Ethan, eyes big and hopeful.
He taps her nose.“After lunch, bug. Real food first. Your mom will throw me in a snowbank if I fill you with sugar.”
I roll my eyes.“He is not wrong.”
The waitress comes over, Patty, who has worked here since the Jurassic period, and she lights up the second she spots Mia.“Well, if it is not our little Christmas angel. You want your usual?”
Mia nods, swinging her legs.“And ketchup.”
“You got it, sweetheart.” Patty scribbles, then turns to Ethan and me.“Burgers?”
Ethan grins.“You know us too well.”
While she walks off, the warmth of the diner settles around me. The chatter, the plates clinking, the smell of grease and hot coffee, it is ordinary, but it feels like home. Like safety.
Mia chatters without taking a breath, about her friend who lost a mitten in the snow, about her teacher’s sparkly earrings, about the Christmas craft she made that had“too much gluebut it is okay.” Ethan listens like her stories are national-level importance. He nods at all the right moments, eyebrows lifting, mouth curving into a soft smile that makes something in my chest unclench.
