“We’re good. See you at feeding time.”
Walker watched as Jonah trudged through the snow toward his cabin, head bent against the increasingly heavy flakes. Bear followed a few minutes later, raising a hand in silent farewell, his big frame silhouetted against the string lights as he disappeared toward the bunkhouse.
The yard emptied gradually, vehicles backing away with red taillights glowing through the swirling snow. Each departure left the night a little quieter, a little more intimate. Cowboy sat at attention by Walker’s feet, watching the procession with the serene patience of an old dog who had seen many Christmas nights come and go.
Maggie and Anson lingered awkwardly by the bottom step, neither quite ready to say goodnight. They stood just far enough apart to maintain propriety, but close enough that Walker could see the tension between them, the gravity pulling them toward each other.
“I should probably head back,” Maggie said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s getting colder.”
Anson nodded, his face unreadable in the shadow of the porch light. “I could walk you. To your cabin.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” Her words came too quickly. “I mean, you don’t have to. It’s not far.”
“I don’t mind.” Anson’s voice was soft, almost lost under the whisper of falling snow.
Walker exchanged a glance with Johanna, both of themcareful not to smile at the familiar dance playing out below them.
“Okay,” Maggie finally said. “That would be... nice.”
They started down the path together, walking close but not touching. Twice, Anson’s hand came up slightly, as if to help her over a drift, then retreated to his side. As they rounded the corner toward the guest cabins, both looked back, catching each other in the act. Walker could almost feel the heat of their mutual embarrassment from where he stood.
“How long do you think before one of them breaks?” Johanna whispered, leaning into his side.
“My money’s on her,” Walker replied. “She’s braver than she looks.”
The sound of boots on the porch steps drew his attention. Lila stood there, car keys jingling in her gloved hand, cheeks pink from the cold. Her eyes weren’t on them, but on Boone, who stood by the door still holding the carved frame Walker had given him.
“I should get going,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “Early calls tomorrow.”
Boone nodded, shifting his weight. “Thanks for coming.”
Lila took a step forward, then hesitated. Walker saw the calculation in her eyes, the weighing of risk and reward. Then she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Boone. He froze for a moment before his free arm came up to return the embrace, the frame held carefully away from their bodies.
“I’m glad you’re thinking about it,” she whispered. Walker wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t been standing so close. “Another dog. Bishop would want you to be happy.”
Boone’s eyes closed, his throat working as he swallowed. He didn’t answer, just held her a moment longer before letting go.
“Merry Christmas, Boone,” Lila said, squeezing hisforearm once before turning to the steps. “Night, you two.” She nodded to Walker and Johanna as she passed, pulling her hat lower over her ears.
They watched her climb into her SUV and back carefully down the drive. Boone stood motionless, staring after her taillights long after they disappeared into the swirling snow. Something had shifted in his face, a crack in the armor he’d maintained for so long. When he finally looked up, he caught Walker watching. For once, he didn’t hide his expression, didn’t rebuild the wall. He simply nodded once, clutching the frame a little tighter, and retreated inside.
“He’ll figure it out eventually,” Johanna murmured.
“Took me long enough,” Walker replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
The door opened again, and Jax stepped out with Nessie and Oliver. The boy was fast asleep against his father’s shoulder, small face tucked into Jax’s neck, exhausted from the excitement and emotion of the day. Nessie carried their coats and a bag of leftovers, her new engagement ring catching the Christmas lights as she moved.
“Thanks for having us,” she said, kissing Johanna’s cheek. “For everything.”
“You’re family,” Johanna replied, smoothing Oliver’s hair from his forehead. “That’s what family does.”
Jax shifted Oliver’s weight, then reached out his free hand to Walker. But instead of shaking it, he pulled Walker into a one-armed hug, his grip tight.
“Thanks,” he said, voice rough. “For bringing me here. For giving me this life.”
Walker felt the words in his chest, tight and warm. “I just got you here, son. You did all the hard work.”
Jax stepped back, eyes bright in the porch light. “Still. I wouldn’t have had the chance without you.” He glanced at Johanna. “Both of you. Even if I was horrible at therapy.”
