Page 3 of Christmas Captive

“It was five bucks,” Charlie groans. “Five bucks to keep your face off the internet and get a positive review instead of a shit one. I know you hate talking about your feelings, but you’ve been weird ever since the season started. For God’s sake, it’s Christmas. Figure it out or stop coming in.”

“Right, and you’re the pillar of Christmas charm.” I toss the bailed trees into the back of the waiting pickup truck.

“It doesn’t take much to be better than you are right now. Come on, brother. Be better.” Charlie tosses the last tree in and shakes his head before climbing up in the driver’s seat and taking off toward the barn. He pulls this righteous shit whenever he thinks he has the moral high ground, and it gets fucking old.

I chew the inside of my cheek and ball my fists at my side before walking into the pine grove. My family has owned this farm for generations and my brothers and I have run the place for the last twenty years. You’d think we’d have it down by now, but every year there’s some kind of drama. Last year, we lost half our inventory to a barn fire. The year before that, the reindeer got sick, and we had to cancel a ton of events.

I think we’ve been spiraling downward since the year that Mom passed away. Ever since we were kids, we needed a referee to keep the peace. I miss her so much this time of year.

Despite all the drama lately, people look at us like we’re blessed. That owning your own business is living the dream, but there’s always something lurking around the corner. Sometimes I wonder why we don’t sell the whole place off and separate our lives a little. I think we’d get along better if we did. Then again, I’m not sure I could give all this up.

I look around and all I see is our family’s land. At this point, we’re four generations deep in this dirt. You don’t just pick up and walk away from something like that. This dirt is our link to the past. It’s the place where our grandparents’ parents put their blood, sweat, and tears. It’s the place our family is known for. We’ve got roots so deep that they can’t be replanted.

The sun fades into the evening sky as I wander the long aisles of Fraser fir and balsam. We’ll see an influx of families an hour from now as folks are getting off work. This is my favorite time in the grove. There’s something magical about rows and rows of snowy trees under the moonlight. The snow reflects the casting light and there’s silence except for the crunching under my boots.

I stare ahead at the rising mountain range and suck in a breath of pine surrounding me. I don’t know when life got so damn complicated. When Christmas stopped being fun and light. When I got so damn angry.

The crunch of another boot echoes a few rows down, followed by a sniffle, and then another. This part of the lot is blocked off for cutting, so there shouldn’t be anyone down here. I move quickly through the trees, pushing back the sharp needles with my gloved hand as I walk. The snow is deeper out here, harder to maneuver.

“Oh, God. I’m not on shift.” Jovie stands from the snow pile she’s sitting on and wipes away a tear. “I just need space to think, and… yeah. I know this isn’t an open area. I can leave.”

“No, you’re okay. I was out here thinking, too. My favorite spot to really get some good answers is that balsam to the right. The one that’s tilting slightly. He’s a good listener. Been talking to him since I was a kid.”

Jovie pushes her blonde hair away from her face with her knit mitten and smiles. “Trees are the best listeners. There’s thiswillow I used to sit under in the park in San Diego that seemed to have all kinds of answers.”

“I’ve never met a willow I didn’t like.” I brush my hand over my beard, covering the half smile that’s threatening my image. “Why the tears?”

She sighs. “You don’t want to hear my problems. I can go over there and talk to the balsam.”

“Actually, I do. I mean, you should be able to talk to your boss.”

“Should I?” Her brow raises. “Is that a normal thing? I don’t know a lot of people who tell their bosses all their emotional problems.”

I shrug. “Don’t know, but I know you’re a better employee when you’re not upset. So, spill it, unless you want me to go first.”

Her shoulders relax. “That’s way more interesting. What’s up with you?”

I learned from watching my mother at church that you don’t get people to open up unless you’re willing to do the same. “Well, my brother Charlie is being a huge pain in the ass about everything this year. It’s worse than other years. He seems to think he knows everything about everyone. Oh, and my three other brothers are each being assholes in their own unique and festive ways. Nick just bought a new tractor without telling anyone, Gabe decided to run a plow into a tree by the main house and took down an electric pole, and Sam, the oldest of all of us, is spending his paycheck to attend the Christmas party with some internet girl. So yeah, maybe that’s why I’ve been miserable. Everyone is a wreck. What about you? That guy was really trying to push that ring on you.”

Her plump red lips pinch together, and for a second, I flash on the thought of all that red lipstick covering my cock.

Fuck! That’s one hell of an intrusive thought.What’s wrong with me?Clearly, I need to jerk off or something.

“Yeah.” She sighs and sits back on the snowbank, pulling her down jacket over her butt as she adjusts. “I know what you’re saying about me deserving more, but I feel like that’s how people end up alone.”

“So, you’d rather settle than go after what you deserve?”

“No,” she snaps. “That’s not what I’m saying.” She huffs, “If you go dismissing everyone after they make a mistake, what’s left? No one is perfect.”

“True, but the people that want to be in your life usually make an effort to show you that. Do you think that guy shows you that?”

She looks at the snow and reaches for a limb on the tree, pushing the powder off inch by inch as she thinks over my question. “I don’t know. Sometimes, yeah, but here’s the thing. What if I leave him and find out that every man is exactly the same, and it’s me who’s had jaded expectations this entire time?”

“Look,” I sigh, “we’ve only known each other briefly, so I don’t really know you, and I certainly don’t know your ex, but I do know that love doesn’t make you question yourself in a snowbank after dark. I know love doesn’t make you talk to trees. I know you deserve more. A lot more.”

Her gaze narrows, and she looks away without saying a word.

I want to reach out and pull her close to my body to show her what it feels like to really care about someone. “In the brief time you’ve been here, I can tell you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, you’ve got a lot of care for others, and you’re as beautiful as the day is long. You have all these things going for you, but you’re losing sleep over some asshole who mostdefinitely will be thesameasshole threatening divorce the first time shit gets real.”

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