Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch (Gold Valley #13)(32)

“And you never will again. Every year it takes on a unique shape. As you can see, we have many unused boxes. We just kind of dig through the mountain and hope for the best. Though I always use my dirt bikes.”

After that, it was time for presents, and they all moved them into a big pile at the center of the room. And with very little ceremony, they fell upon them.

Callie only had one, and it was from him. He found it, and held it out to her.

“Oh, no,” she said, looking worried. “I didn’t get a gift for anyone. You can’t give one to me.”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. I wanted to give you something.”

She narrowed her eyes, looking at him skeptically, but took the small gift from his hand. She opened it slowly, and then stopped when she lifted the lid on the box. “What is this?”

“Well, now I know you’re not allowed to decorate your family tree. But since... Well, since you’re getting emancipated and everything with your new trust fund, you might be able to put this to good use.”

She lifted it up, and he was relieved to see that it was even nicer in person than it looked online. It was a cowgirl, sitting on the back of a bucking bronco, fully rounded and trying to shake her off its back. And she was hanging on, one hand on the reins, the other one flung up in the air. Her hair was wild and free, a red hat on her head.

“It’s incredible,” she said. “I didn’t know they made things like this. With tough-looking cowgirls.”

“Well, this is clearly the ornament you should’ve had all along. And hey, if you ever come back here for Christmas... You’re welcome to put it on our tree. Everything matches our tree. Because nothing does.”

“I like that.”

He looked at her for a moment, and he wished... He really wished that her family did more to support her. To give her what she wanted. Because she was amazing, and she was strong. And she deserved this cowgirl ornament, as much as she deserved to feel like she was that cowgirl. And just for a moment, everything in him went still. Tight.

She licked her lips, and a slug of lust hit him down low in the stomach. Made it difficult for him to breathe.

Right here in the living room in front of his family, because he was watching the girl get a Christmas ornament. This was stupid. Ridiculous.

And he couldn’t turn away from it or her any more than he could stop reading.

“Thanks,” she said. “I mean it.”

“Well, you’re welcome.”

“Chicken oven mitts!” Sammy had the gift from him on both of her hands. “It’s perfect,” she said laughing. “Thanks.”

“I’m knocking it out of the park today.”

And he was grateful for the distraction, because God knew they needed it. Because there was something about this moment that was edging way further into domestic than he would like. Something about this whole thing with Callie.

And it was the domestic that made him start to feel a little bit claustrophobic. He knew why. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to sort through it.

He didn’t need to think about that. Not now. It was stupid to start thinking about it just because he was sitting here in this house. Where he spent Christmases as a child. Where his parents had handed him his gifts. He gritted his teeth and stood. Then walked out to the front porch. He just needed some air. Just needed a minute. He shouldn’t have been too surprised when the door open behind him, and loud footsteps followed. Of course it was Cal.

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Who said anything was wrong? Is just hot in there.”

And it was freezing out here. The air had a biting quality to it, and it was welcome. Anything to distract him. To get his mind more firmly in the present. But then, this was the problem. It only worked for a minute, and then he was cast right back to another winter. All those years ago.

When things had seemed like they would be okay. Finally.

And it had all fallen apart.

“I don’t buy that. Don’t BS me. We’re friends.”

“It just gets to be a bit much sometimes. That’s the house I grew up in with my parents. It wasn’t the same for the rest of them, you know. It wasn’t where they spent their childhood. I mean, we all spent time together there, but it wasn’t where they lived with their parents. It was where Colt and I lived with ours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t. Except...when you’re a kid you believe. That things will be okay. That they’ll turn out all right. That the good guys win. That love wins. And I had that taken from me. It’s okay, it is. I learned. Some people never have to, and good for them. But that’s the truth of it. That’s life.”

“You don’t believe things will be okay?”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe we can know if they will be or not.”

“So why...why keep going at all?”

He cleared his throat. “Because the other option is dying, I guess. And I’ve seen what that’s like, too. So I just go on living.”

“Without hope?”

There’s you.

He didn’t say it.

He’d found some hope through that scrappy girl he’d met all those years ago. In her optimism and fire.