Page 34 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“I gotta say, I don’t have any stories like that in my repertoire.” Sam racked his brain for something humiliating or hilarious, and finally, he snapped his fingers. “There was the time I thought it would be a good idea to break into the high school pool with a woman I met at Brews. We were in the shallow end when the cops showed up and hauled us in. They didn’t press charges, but they replaced the locks after that.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “How old were you?”

“It was last year,” he said.

Wren shook her head. “You’re lucky you didn’t get charged with breaking and entering.”

“Funny, that’s the same thing the chief said.” Her expression was so disapproving, he scoffed, “Oh, come on! You’re telling me you never do anything stupid for kicks anymore? You’ve gone that legit?”

“If you’re asking if I’ve broken any laws in the last fourteen years of being a police officer, the answer is no.” She hesitated and added, “Except for a few speeding incidents.”

“Oh, how many are we talking?” he asked.

Her expression turned sheepish. “Enough to where I almost got suspended and lost my license.”

“Yikes, should we change your name to Flash?” he teased.

Wren lost her smile. “I don’t know. Maybe we should we change your name to Peter Pan?”

Sam stiffened at her cutting tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“After I almost lost my job, I got my shit together and stopped speeding. I realized how dangerous and reckless I was being. Yet, here you are, still breaking into schools and bouncing around from girl to girl. Seems like you haven’t grown up at all since high school.”

Sam stood up and grabbed his dish from the table, hurt and anger stirring in his stomach like a twister. “You know, I thought that maybe you were saying all that stuff outside of the Wolf’s Den because you were angry about how we left things. But don’t come back here and act like you know who I am or what I’ve been through.” He scraped off the leftover food into the trash and set the dish on the counter with a clack, stomping back into the room to grab her plate, adding, “One conversation over dinner isn’t going to change the assumptions you’ve made about me, so why are we even here?”

Wren seemed to recoil at his anger, her eyes narrowing as she stood up, and she yanked her plate out of his hands. “I know you. You’re the same guy who said he loved me, that it was you and me against the world, and then when things got scary, you took my word at face value and left.”

“Oh, rehashing this now?” Sam snapped, memories of that day sweeping through him and dredging up all the humiliation and heartbreak to the surface. “I thought we were just gonna leave everything in the past and forget how we ended.”

“You’re telling me how much you’ve changed, but all I’ve seen is a guy who doesn’t want complications.” Wren stomped past him, cleaning off her own plate in the garbage and setting it on top of his before facing him again. “A man who doesn’t want commitment. Just like when I gave you an out, and you took it like a scared little boy.”

Sam took a step toward her, closing the distance as he stared down at the stubborn tilt of her chin and blazing eyes.

“You were the one who said we should end it because your dad wasn’t ever gonna leave either one of us alone,” Sam said softer, trying to get a handle on his temper even as his voice trembled with emotions he’d thought long dead and buried. “I knew that was true, at least while you were seventeen and under his roof, but I thought when I came back, you would be there waiting.”

Wren stilled. “What do you mean, when you came back?”

Sam hesitated, watching her eyes narrow. “Didn’t you get my letter?”

“No, I didn’t get a letter,” she whispered.

“I left it in the tree trunk. I thought you’d find it after I left, but when I came back and you were already gone, I just assumed you made your choice.”

Wren’s eyes shimmered in the kitchen light, never wavering from his. “I went back to that tree more than once before I left, and I never found anything.”

Sam released a bitter laugh. “Well, that’s that, then. Believe me or not.”

Sam went into the other room to gather the rest of the dishes, and when he came back, Wren was leaning against the counter, wiping at her cheeks. The pain on her face ate at him, and he set the remaining cleanup on the counter and approached her slowly.

“Hey, I’m sorry I snapped at you—”

“What did the letter say?” She sniffled.

Sam released a heavy sigh, placing his hand under her chin and lifting her gaze to his. “That I’d come back the next July when you were eighteen and graduated. When there would be nothing to stop us from being together.”

Wren’s eyes widened. “And did you come back?”

“Of course I did. I always keep my promises.”