Page 84 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“You took my letter, didn’t you?” she said softly, fury spreading through her body like a fever, her skin pricking with heat.

He glanced at the ground, avoiding her gaze. His voice came out soft and gruff with more emotion than she’d seen from him in years. “I was afraid you were planning on running off with him, so yes, I took your letter. After a while, it seemed like you’d moved on, and it didn’t make sense to give it to you, especially after you got accepted to college in Arizona.”

“But you kept vital information from me,” she snapped, her voice thick and trembling.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

“No, you don’t understand how much I loved him. Giving him up broke something inside me, and I never healed from it, not until I came back here and saw him again.” Wren’s tears spilled over, and she dashed at them angrily. “When he told me about the letter, that was the moment I believed that he hadn’t abandoned me. I didn’t even need to see the letter to know that he had written it, because deep down, I knew he wouldn’t lie to me. I think a part of me had created this wall because I felt so betrayed by him not fighting for me. But now I know that even after I told him to leave back then, and I gave him so much crap when I got back, he didn’t give up. He brought something to life inside me I hadn’t even realized was dead. When you told me that my desire to have a child on my own was crazy, he supported me and does these amazing things, like help me decorate my Christmas tree.” Wren took a deep, bracing breath in an attempt to rein in her emotions, and she admitted, “I don’t think I ever stopped loving him, and the thought that I might have had another life with him, a life you stole, is unforgivable.”

Wren got up from the step, and her father leaped to his feet, grasping her hand. “Please, Wren. I know I was wrong, and that I should have told you a long time ago. I don’t always make the right calls. I know I can’t change what I did, but I will do everything in my power to make it up to you, to earn your forgiveness.”

She stared down at his big hand wrapped around hers and shook her head. “Why do you care? You spend most of the time ignoring my existence, so why do you care if I forgive you or not?”

“Because you’re my daughter, and I love you. I might struggle with showing my softer side, but you kids are my world. I would do anything to protect you, to make sure that you have an amazing life. Maybe that made me a little controlling—” Wren cleared her throat, and he conceded, “or a lot. But please know, I wasn’t being malicious. I thought I was doing what’s best for you.”

Wren wasn’t quite ready to fully let him off the hook, but she could at least see how he thought that he was protecting her. He didn’t want her to become a dissatisfied housewife, stuck in a loveless marriage.

Her dad didn’t want her to relive his life.

Wren squeezed his hand gently, her expression solemn. “It’s going to take time, but I’ll try to forgive you.”

“Thank you,” her dad said, pulling her in for a hard hug. The smell of cedar and smoke wrapped around her like a familiar cloak, and she laid her cheek against his chest, having forgotten how good a hug from her dad could feel.

When he finally released her, he asked, “Can I ask why you’re going along with this arrangement if you love Sam Griffin? Why don’t you just be with him, and if a child comes from it, deal with it together.”

“I’m afraid if I tell him, it’s all going to blow up in my face.”

“Wren,” her dad said, covering her hands with his, “it doesn’t matter that after thirteen years together, your mom walked out and found a whole new life. The good times we had together included love, sorrow, and growth. They were amazing, and I don’t regret them, not for a single second. Especially because they gave me you kids.”

“Even Pete? Have you seen him eat chips?” Wren asked, making a face. “It’s disgusting.”

“Yes, even Pete with his chips and Garrett with his pit stains.”

Wren laughed and gagged at the same time. “Gross! Who taught him to do laundry?”

“Apparently me, and I failed miserably.”

When they sobered, Wren squeezed his hands. “Thanks for talking to me, Dad.”

“I’m here for you. Even when you might not like what I have to say, I’m here.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Sam and Clark were sitting in Clark’s living room, drinking a couple of beers together. Merry was with her committee, talking about the Mistletoe Winter Games and the last few little wrap-ups for the Mistletoe Christmas season while Jace was at a sleepover. The two brothers hadn’t had a lot of time together lately, so Sam was enjoying the one-on-one hangout.

“How are things going with getting your shop? Is there any chance your boss wants to retire in the next year?” Clark asked.

“She’s only forty-five, dude. She wants to keep going for years to come, so if I’m gonna set up shop, I’m gonna have to find a place outside of town.” Sam sighed. “Honestly, I’m wondering if it’s worth the headache. Besides, both her and her husband are good to me. I make my own schedule. I just give her rent for my station, and the rest is up to me, so it’s like being my own boss.”

“Sounds like you have the benefits of your own business without the headache. Why don’t you stay there and continue to do what you love but save money for other things? If you have to leave Mistletoe in order to start a new shop, it kind of defeats the purpose of moving back, doesn’t it? I thought the point of being here was to be close to your nephew and watch him grow up.”

“I guess it’s hard to let go of something that’s been your dream since you were a kid.”

“Do you really want to make schedules and pay for repairs and deal with disgruntled employees?”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. “That actually sounds like a massive headache.”

“It is. I might not own the tree farm, but I still have to deal with people calling out sick and getting the schedule covered. Then there are the constant calls when there are issues—”