When we reach the car, my phone buzzes. The name on the screen sends a chill slicing through my chest. Tommy Boyler. Dave’s brother. Second-in-command. I stare at the message, the words blurring as the weight of my double life comes rolling down a proverbial hill toward me like a fucking deadly avalanche.
Sophia’s laugh echoes in my mind, a haunting melody I should ignore but don’t want to. I glance at Pete, his face tilted up at me, shining with innocence and trust. I dare hope there’s a way to have it all.
But happiness never lasts long, not with shadows like the Boyle Brotherhood’s enemies lurking just beyond the horizon.
My heart stutters as self-doubt whispers that the life I’ve built is more likely to destroy everything I love.
11
SOPHIA
The mug of mulled wine is warm against my hands, the spicy scent wrapping around me like a familiar hug. I take a sip, savoring the cinnamon and clove that always remind me of my Nana and then of Mom—two women who perfected the recipe, passing it down like a sacred holiday ritual. The blanket I’ve wrapped around my shoulders feels almost too warm, but the brisk December air nipping at my cheeks makes it worthwhile. From my perch on the porch, I marvel at the spectacle of the sun setting behind the mountaintops, painting the sky in oranges, purples, and pinks. The snow-covered street is too quiet, with a faint golden glow spilling from neighbors’ windows. Christmas lights twinkle in reds, greens, and whites, but the silence presses down, heavy with its own weight.
And then I see it—Ray’s car pulling into the driveway just a few houses down the street.
The sleek black SUV is impossible to miss, a sharp contrast to the idyllic holiday scene. It feels like a wolf prowling through a peaceful forest, dangerous yet magnetic. My heart leaps, and I force myself to take another sip of my wine to calm the flutter inside me. But it’s no use. The sight of him stepping out of the car, the way he moves—fluid and purposeful—sends a ripple of heat through me. His copper-red hair catches the fading luminance of the sunset, making him look like he’s been carved straight from the mountains behind him. Broad shoulders, a commanding presence that feels at odds with the serene neighborhood.
Ray lifts a hand in greeting when he notices me; it’s a small wave, understated yet deliberate. I return it, my other hand gripping the mug too tightly. He turns toward the back seat, opening the door to help Pete climb out. The boy is bundled up in a striped jacket, his ginger hair sticking out like a beacon. He’s holding a box, and his little face is alight with a mixture of curiosity and determination.
I set my mug on the small table beside me as I stand, letting the blanket slide onto the chair I vacated. The cold air bites harder now that I’m moving, but I ignore it, my feet carrying me toward the driveway as if on autopilot.
“Hey,” I say softly, stopping a few feet away from them. My breath fogs in the air, but Ray’s proximity burns hot enough to make me forget the chill. His piercing blue eyes lock onto mine.
“Sophia.” My name on his lips is a low rumble, almost a growl. He clears his throat and adds, “Glad you could make it.” He straightens, towering over me, yet there’s no menace in his gaze—only cautious warmth, which surprises me.
Pete’s innocent voice cuts through the charged moment. “Sophia! We got ornaments! Lots of them! Wanna see?”
I crouch slightly to meet Pete’s level, smiling at the boy’s infectious excitement. “Ornaments, huh? What kind? Snowflakes? Stars?”
“All of them!” Pete declares with a grin, clutching the box to his chest like it’s a treasure trove.
Ray chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “He insisted we needed to buy every ornament in the store.”
“You can never have too many,” I say, glancing up at Ray. His expression softens just a fraction, but it’s enough to make my heart skitter.
“Want to come in?” he asks, his voice steady.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
The moment I step inside, I’m struck by the contrast. Ray’s house is stunning, with clean lines and a modern design, with tall windows that frame the towering pines outside. But it’s also... so empty. The high ceilings and minimalist décor make the space cold, devoid of the chaos that usually comes with the holidays. No lights, no garland, no stockings hanging by the sleek black fireplace. It’s like the house is holding its breath, waiting for life to fill it.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, meaning it, but my voice is softer now, almost reverent.
Ray shrugs, setting the shopping bags down on the thick carpet in front of the fireplace. “It’s just a house.”
“No tree?” I ask, looking around as Pete darts past me, heading straight for one of the bags.
Ray shakes his head. “Not this year.”
The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning left unsaid. My gaze flicks to Pete, who’s already pulling out ornaments and spreading them across the floor. The sight of him, so small in this vast, quiet space, tugs at something deep inside me.
“Hey, Sophia!” Pete calls, holding up a glittery red bauble. “Look! Isn’t this cool?”
I crouch beside him, pretending to admire the ornament, but my mind is elsewhere. I glance up at Ray, who’s watching us from a few steps away, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—those piercing, stormy baby blues—betray a flicker of raw feelings that break my heart. Loss. Grief.
Pete tugs on my sleeve, pulling me back to the moment. “Dad says I can’t put these up without a tree.”
“Well,” I say, tilting my head playfully, “we’re going to need to fix that, aren’t we?”
