No. "Yes."
We made our way to the sanctuary. Already packed, pews filling fast, families squeezing together. The scent of pine boughs mixed with melting candle wax and old hymnals, someone's perfume—roses and powder—drifting past. Candles waited on windowsills. Poinsettias flanked the altar. The massive Christmas tree in the corner sparkled with handmade ornaments.
Mee-Maw found seats near the middle, and I tried very hard not to scan the room for a tall, dark-haired cowboy with a little boy in tow.
I lasted maybe thirty seconds.
There. Three rows up, across the center aisle. Dark jacket, white shirt, no tie. Dash sat beside him in a miniature matching outfit,little boots swinging off the pew. Next to them, his parents plus his brothers Shane and Dusty with their girlfriends.
The Starrs—his whole family.
As if he could feel me staring, Shep's head turned. Our eyes met across the crowded sanctuary, and the noise—rustling programs, murmured conversations, organ music—faded into background static.
My breath caught. His hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at his collar. He'd shaved, and even from here I could see the sharp line of his jaw. When his hand came down to ruffle Dash's hair, the movement was so tender something squeezed in my chest.
What was he thinking? That last night had been a mistake? That he was relieved I'd made it easy?
Or—
Dash tugged his sleeve again, and Shep turned away.
All through the service, I was hyperaware of him three rows up. When we stood to sing "O Come All Ye Faithful," I strained to hear his voice. When Pastor Bright talked about unexpected blessings and finding light in darkness, I thought about a blizzard and a boutique and learning I was brave enough to ask for what I wanted.
We lit candles, flames passing person to person until the sanctuary blazed with light. Singing "Silent Night" in the flickering glow, my voice caught onall is calm, all is bright.
Nothing felt calm. My pulse hammered in my ears. Everything felt too bright, too sharp, hope and heartbreak tangled together.
"The Lord bless you and keep you," Pastor Bright said, raising his hands. "The Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," the congregation echoed.
People began filing out toward the fellowship hall. Mee-Maw stopped to chat with Mrs. Henderson. The crowd carried me forward—
A small body slammed into my legs.
"Miss Flannery!" Dash wrapped his arms around my knees. "Merry Christmas!"
I steadied myself against a pew, grinning down at him. "Merry Christmas, Dash."
"We had pancakes and Jayden and me built a fort and guess what?" He bounced on his toes. "We got a baby horse! Her name's Comet and she was born this morning and she's so tiny and can you come see her? Please?"
Looking up, I found Shep walking toward us, the Starrs trailing behind. His mother with the same dark hair, his father with the same build, his brothers tall and broad-shouldered.
They all turned to look.
"Dash, let Miss Flannery breathe," Shep said quietly, his eyes on mine.
"But can she come see Comet?" Dash insisted. "Please, Daddy?"
Shep's gaze held mine. "Comet's the new foal. Born this morning—Christmas Eve baby." He paused. "You want to come out to the ranch? Meet her?"
The invitation meant more than seeing a horse. I could see it in the way he waited for my answer.
"I'd love to," I said softly.
His smile could've lit the whole sanctuary. "In the morning then. After you've had Christmas with Mee-Maw."
"In the morning."
