He stomped his back hoof, and her ears popped.
CHAPTERFORTY
Drake sat on the metal bench in the jail cell, his elbows on his knees and his head hanging down.
His backside had gone numb fifteen minutes ago, but he didn’t have the will to stand up and pace to get the blood flowing again. Christmas Eve in a jail cell. Happy holidays indeed!
The cell was every bit the Mayberry setup Hollywood made small town jails out to be. A set of iron bars blocked his freedom, though his view of Rory’s desk and the rest of the jail were unobscured. He’d heard both phone calls that came in loud and clear and he had a front-row seat to his brothers and Faith arguing and pleading for his release.
Caleb leaned against the pinewood desk. “Can’t you let him out for good behavior? It’s Christmas Eve and my mom wants her son home in time for dinner.”
Rory leaned back in his chair and propped his black boots up on the desk. “He’s only been in there a couple hours–hasn’t even had time to misbehave.”
Caleb stroked his chin. “You have a point.”
Jack elbowed him and scowled. “Whose side are you on?”
Caleb rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”
“Guys!” Drake lifted his head and glared at them. “Go home and be with your families.” He didn’t care if he sat in here for Christmas, New Year’s, and Valentine’s Day. If he didn’t get to spend those days with Clove, then there was no reason to care if he was behind bars or in Mom’s living room.
Faith came around the chairs and stood in front of the bars. “You are family.”
He huffed. “You know what I mean.”
She shook her finger at him. “You are giving up when you should be fighting for your lady.”
“Fighting for her?” He surged to his feet, finally finding something he cared about more than himself. The door swung open and his mom walked in. He threw his arms out to the side, intent on telling Faith how bad the situation truly was at this time. “I should be fighting for her? She locked herself away from me. Doesn’t even want to look at me.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Mom held the door open for Billy and Ryder to come in.
Dad, carrying Aspen, was next. Then Mitzi and finally Pax.
“Good idea,” Forest beamed as he took Aspen from Dad and walked over to the desk. “Aspen, sweetie, tell the nice police officer to let Uncle Drake go.” He turned her toward Rory.
She put her arm around Forest’s neck and turned her big hazel eyes on Rory. “Wet him go!”
Forest kissed her cheek. “You heard the woman—wet him go.”
The family chuckled at Forest’s antics and Aspen’s adorableness.
“Wonderful,” Drake grumbled. This is just what the children need—to visit their wayward uncle in jail for Christmas.
A draft came in through the open door, drawing his attention. “Is someone going to shut that?” he groused like an old man, barely catching himself from saying:We don’t pay to heat the whole town.
“I’ve got it,” Clove chirped as she walked in and shut the door behind her.
Drake’s whole world stopped at the sight of her. He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her with messy hair when she woke up. He’d seen her with hat hair. He’d seen her tired and worried. He’d seen her giggle. He’d seen her enjoy a cup of cocoa.
But he’d never seen her look so beautiful. She glowed. The light inside of her burst forth and she honestly glowed with it. Her long hair was down and in waves and so shiny it called to his fingers to touch it. The memory of corn silk tresses so soft against his cheek was so powerful he could have bent the bars to get to her. Her blue eyes were bright and alert and her lips were full, soft, and kissable.
Once their eyes met, she moved to him, rushing through the room and reaching through the bars. Her hand grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. He took it and kissed it once, twice, and then breathed in the cinnamon and frosting scent of her skin.
“I thought you’d be halfway to Montana by now.” He put her hand on his chest and held it there, afraid she would disappear on him.
She used her other hand to cup his cheek, digging her fingers into his beard in that way that he loved so much. He may never shave again. “I belong with you.”
He closed his eyes, breathing in her words like he’d been out of air. “Clove, I love you. I should have pounded down your door last night and told you that over and over again.” He was feeling his way along a precipice, desperate to be in a place where one wrong step wouldn’t drop him a thousand feet, and praying he didn’t trip over his words. “I’m sorry about Dunder.”
