Tomorrow was Christmas Day.
And for the first time in my life, I’d understand what the holiday truly meant.
It wasn’t about presents under a tree or perfect decorations or social obligations.
It was about love.
Chapter 25
Becken
When I woke, dawn was cresting the horizon. I stared at the dark ceiling of my hotel room. Sleep had been impossible, my mind racing with my thoughts about the day ahead. Christmas morning. The day I would give Carla her gift and ask her to stay in Lonesome Creek.
We’d only known each other for a short time, but the connection between us ran deeper than time could measure.
I dressed in the shadows, pulling on dark jeans, a new button-down shirt Aunt Inla had insisted I needed, and my least-worn boots. No cowboy hat today. This wasn’t about playing a role for tourists. This was about being myself with the woman who mattered most.
Outside, Lonesome Creek slept under a fresh blanket of snow. Christmas lights still twinkled on every building, though the streets were empty, everyone sleeping late after last night’s excitement. Or they were sharing their own special morning inside their rooms. The birth of Ruugar and Beth’s daughter hadbeen the perfect Christmas Eve miracle, bringing the community together to celebrate new life.
The memory of Carla holding Noma flashed through my mind. I’d always remember the wonder in her eyes, the gentle way she’d cradled the youngling, and the shift in her expression when she looked my way. That moment had given me hope that perhaps what I offered today might be enough.
No, thatIwould be enough.
Dungar waited on the steps of the sheriff’s office, steam rising from the mug in his hands. “There you are.”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Nervous?”
“Realistic.” I stomped snow from my boots before following him inside. “She has options. Good ones.”
“So do you.” He closed the door while I took in his office on the right with a big, broad desk, and the jail cell on the left where tourists could play prisoner until someone “bailed” them out, with all the money raised going to charity.
“Do I?”
“Always.”
His office area had been transformed overnight. The practical desk and chairs remained, but now evergreen garlands draped the walls, tiny white lights twinkling among the branches. A small tree stood in the corner, decorated with pottery ornaments and red ribbons. I saw Allie and Hail’s contribution there. The scent of pine and cinnamon filled the air.
“We all did this together,” Dungar said. “For you and Carla.”
My throat closed off. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Of course we did.” He nudged my shoulder. “We support each other in everything. Even when we’re being stubborn fools about admitting our feelings.”
The back area of the office had seen an even more dramatic change. Dungar’s simple space now held a small table coveredwith a red cloth, set for two with Hail’s handmade pottery dishes. More lights wrapped around the window frame above the table. The room felt intimate despite its original purpose.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Voices approached from outside, and Greel and Tark appeared in the doorway, carrying covered dishes and a carafe releasing the sweet smell of my favorite tea.
“Breakfast delivery,” Greel said, setting his burden on the table. “Jessi’s been cooking since four. She said everything needs to be perfect for Carla’s first real Christmas morning.”
“Sel and Holly sent these.” Tark placed a pretty plate loaded with bakery goods beside the dishes. “Fresh cinnamon rolls, still warm from the oven.”
The support from everyone in town left me speechless. They’d all contributed to making this morning special for Carla and me, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever find a way to repay them.
“We’ll leave now,” Dungar said, nudging Tark and Greel’s shoulders. “That’ll give you time for your final preparations.”
