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I take another drink of my latte and study the older man over the lip of my mug. “You’ve known Gabe for a long time, huh?”

“Since he was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

I smile at the expression.

“He’s grown into a good man, that one.”

“He said you had a lot to do with getting him back on the right track.” I picture Gabe, lost and angry after his dad left, out here on the farm, working out some preteen aggression with manual labor. I can see Felipe as a staunch and steadfast guide. There’s something about the man. He’s the type who doesn’t take crap from anyone. Gabe was right . . . it is refreshing.

Felipe waves me off. “Gaber would have been fine without me, but I was happy to help. It was good for me, too. To have the company. Not many kids would put up with an old codger like me. I’m not the easiest fella to be around, but Gabe didn’t seem to mind. We understood each other. Two loners who found some common ground.”

Felipe eyes me with interest, gray eyes narrowed and scrutinizing.

“Not sure how much you know about Gabe’s family history,” he says after a beat of hesitation.

I swallow. “Gabe and I have been friends for a long time.”

It’s true. I know a lot about him.

Felipe continues to study me. “Well then, you know there’s not much worse for a kid to experience than his own father walking out on the family. Gabe and I have that in common.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathe.

He waves me off again. “It was a long time ago for me. But I know how that sort of thing sticks with a person. I tried to be there for Gaber. To listen if he needed to talk or to just be around so he knew he wasn’t alone.” Felipe’s gray eyes go misty. “He’s paid me back tenfold over the years, I’d say. He still calls me, every Thursday at eight o’clock, to check in.”

I feel my face grow slack at this revelation. “You’re kidding.”

“Why would I kid about something like that?” Felipe narrows his gaze at me.

“I-I don’t know,” I stammer. “I guess I’m just surprised that with his busy schedule he makes time for a weekly phone call.”

I cringe as the words tumble out before I can stop them. How can I be surprised when I haven’t made any effort to know Gabe for the past half decade? The Gabe I knew in high school and college was loyal and dependable. I’ve assumed a lot about him in the past five years. Because I was looking at him through the lens of my loss—my parents’ decisions and my preconceived ideas about what fame would do to him. Was I too blinded by my hurt? Have I been selling Gabe short? I fear I know the answer, and it’s yes.

Felipe, oblivious to my inner turmoil, just shrugs. “I give him a hard time about not coming to visit me, but I can’t really complain. He’s more than repaid me for my time and efforts with him as a moody kid with the companionship and loyalty he’s shown me as an adult.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Gabe pops his head in through the back door. “Ready for ya!”

Felipe grabs a winter coat from a nearby hook and trudges out the door, leaving me to follow.

“You good?” Gabe holds the door open for me.

“Yeah.” I down the rest of my latte, carefully placing the ceramic mug in the sink. My mind is buzzing. Gabe calls Felipe every week. How am I supposed to reconcile that with the image I have in my head of professional musicians who leave their lives in their rearviews and can’t be bothered to look back?

A kernel of truth is trying to pop its way to the surface of my brain. It’s like I’m being given flashing reminders of the fact that Gabe is thoughtful. Considerate. Kind. Loyal. He always has been. From the sounds of things, his career didn’t change that about him. Heck, haven’t I seen it firsthand this week with his willingness to help me plan the Dash?

This realization leaves me feeling off-balance as I follow Gabe down the steps off the back of Felipe’s house. How do I square that with what I’ve always known and believed about professional musicians? Does that change things for Gabe and me? He still lives in Nashburg. His job still takes him all over the country. I still want to grow deeper roots here. I don’t want to wait around for him to be ready to settle. Who’s to say he ever will be ready?

But he wants to talk about the future . . .

“You sure you're okay?”

I glance up to find Gabe looking at me curiously.

“Yep.” I flash him a smile, feeling foolish for the runaway train that is my thoughts. The future can wait. “Bring on the reindeer.”

Chapter 18

Beth