“I have been.”
“Good.”
The door opens again, and Fletcher steps out, concern flickering when he sees us talking.
“And that’s my cue to go,” Sarah teases. She touches my arm gently before heading back inside.
Fletcher faces me. “You okay? Thought you’d be back in by now.”
“Yeah. Just needed a minute.”
He doesn’t reach for me, almost like he knows I’m overwhelmed. It tugs at something uncomfortable. All night I’ve watched him dance around me, do things for me without thinking—moving chairs, offering me water, giving me space. What happens when those actions stop being instinct and start feeling like obligation?
A low burning ache fills me, a quiet sadness blurring the edges of the night. The bright white of the outside Christmas lights reflects in his eyes. He’s so damn beautiful.
Fletcher leans against the opposite wall. “I think you blew Tanner’s mind with the magic tricks.”
I smile softly.
“Learn that in the army or something?”
“My dad, actually.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “You never told me what happened to them. Your family, I mean.”
“Dad died before I got out of the army. Mom died of cancer when I was twenty.”
“And your brother?”
I swallow hard. “He’s still in the army. I think. I don’t know. We lost touch.”
“I’m sorry.” He sighs. “That’s a bitter pain I know well. Dare and I lost our parents eight years ago. My dad had a heart attack, and Mom got pneumonia the following winter. It was hell. Georgie still misses them.” He glances back at the house. “But I’m glad she has Ryan’s and Sarah’s families.”
“They’re good people.”
He smiles warmly, reaching for my hand, and we go back inside together. The heat swells again, but it doesn’t crush me this time.
When Ryan offers pie, I decline, but Fletcher nods immediately.
I wrap an arm around the back of his chair and lean in. “Is there any wine?”
He perks up. “Yeah. Be right back.”
As he walks away, I realize something that scares me more than my MS symptoms ever could.
I want this.
All of this.
The tinsel-covered holiday. The family. The overwhelming warmth that never leaves.
And more than that, I want it with Fletcher.
I’ve never cared about holidays before. Any of them. But today has changed that for me. Today has shown me what I’ve been missing—and all I want to do is reach for it.
But wanting it is easy.
Keeping it—without it turning into something Fletcher needs to manage—that’s the real challenge. I don’t know how to promise I won’t become a burden, especially when I already feel like one.
