Page 95 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“Dude.”

“Time to make a choice, Keith. Keep being stupid and find out what comes after death or get to live another miserable day without dragging your ex-wife’s name through the mud or traumatizing your only child for life. I’m trying to give you a chance here because, personally, I’m itching to fill you up with lead for simply having the audacity to break into my home and threaten my family.”

Keith needs a moment. His gaze darts across the room. He’s looking for a way out but I’m blocking the only one there is. And I am big and strong enough to crush him, even without a gun. Maybe I’m oozing confidence, or maybe he just decided to be smart for once in his life, but Keith ultimately concedes, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Give me the phone,” he mutters.

“Good choice,” I reply and hand him the device.

His fingers tremble as he struggles to log in. He manages, eventually, and I keep my eyes on the screen as I watch him go through all the video files, deleting them one by one. “The account, too. All of it,” I say.

“Fucking prick,” he grumbles, but he continues to do as he’s told.

Five minutes later, his phone and all of his online accounts have been scrubbed clean. The cache is cleared, and the trash folder, too. There’s nothing left. I snatch the phone from him and take out the SIM card, crushing it beneath my fingers before tossing the phone on the floor and stomping it with my boot until it’s in tiny, shattered pieces.

Once that’s done, I take a step closer, and Keith is shaken to the core.

“You said you’d let me live!” he bawls.

I press the gun to his forehead, prompting him to break into a cold, pathetic sweat. “Remember this moment,” I say, my voice low and deadly. “This is the moment you forget you ever had a wife. You forget that you ever had a daughter. You’re Keith Ellis, some mediocre bartender from Shithole, California. That’s it. You don’t know me, you don’t know Dakota, and you certainly don’t know Maisie.”

“Okay… Okay…”

“You’re going to get in your car, leave California behind, and find somewhere else to start anew, far, far away. You do that, and I will have the charges against you dropped. Am I clear, Keith?”

He nods slowly.

“I didn’t hear you, Keith.”

“You’re clear,” he shouts, his lips quivering as he struggles not to cry.

He’s scared out of his mind and pliable enough to do as he’s told. I wouldn’t mind accidentally discharging my weapon, but I’ve got one hell of a woman to get back to, a family to bring back together, and children to raise and protect. This prick’s life ispitiful enough. He’s doomed to what’s left of it. I doubt there’s a worse punishment than that.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” I say, then walk away.

I hear him exhaling sharply as I open the door and step out into the night. This man’s cowardice is something else. At least it’s done and over with. I put the fear of God in Keith Ellis. He’s no longer a problem.

And he knows what will happen if he tries to become one again.

37

Dakota

Maisie and I are out for a late afternoon walk. The garden at our bed & breakfast extends into a pretty orchard. It’s winter, so there isn’t any fruit for us to pick, but it’s nice and warm, the air is fresh, and the fallen leaves crunch under our boots as we make our way up the hill.

I don’t know where Chelsea is, but she promised she’d be back before dinnertime. She might have some daycare business to take care of, at least over the phone. I can’t thank her enough for coming up here with me after the whole wedding debacle.

There’s been a weird vibe to the day, though.

Maisie is easily distracted by so much nature, and I keep an eye on her as she runs around, picking up dry leaves and oddly shaped twigs to show me. At one point, she decides to put together an autumn bouquet of sorts, keeping busy while I work through my thoughts.

“I wish there were flowers,” my baby girl says at one point.

“They’ll come in the spring, baby. It’s winter now,” I reply.

“Why can’t we have a snowy winter like the ones we see on TV?”

“It’s California,” I sigh. “But tell you what, if everything works out for us, I’ll take you somewhere nice and snowy next Christmas. What do you think about that?”

---