Page 109 of The Mistletoe Makeover

He holds my gaze, searching for something. “Mia, you don’t have to run like your father did.”

“I amnotmy father,” I insist.

“Then why are you scared?”

“Love couldn’t solve my parents’ problems. How do I know it’s going to make us happy?” I try to pull away, but he refuses to release my hand.

“Is that what this is about? You’re afraid that I’ll leave?”

“More than dancing on stage. More than kissing you for the first time.” Deep down, it’s always what I’ve been afraid of. When Dad walked out, he left a hole in my heart too big to fill. And one message burrowed that hole deeper:Love isn’t enough.

“I won’t be enough for you,” I say. “I’m not famous. I’m nobody special.”

“I don’t want someone famous. I only want you.” Jace pulls me back toward him, and this time, I’m worn down so much, so emotionally distraught, that I can’t resist. “Love isn’t about happiness. It’s about two people who stay together even when everything tells them to run. But I won’t let you go this time. If you leave, I will chase you down, until you believe this one thing—” He presses me closer so that I can barely breathe. “I will always be here for you.”

His hands wrap around my back as his lips graze my cheek.

When he stops and pulls away slightly, his eyes drag over me like a match. “Will you come home with me?” He asks it so tenderly, my heart aches.

This time, I know I want to try.

* * *

When we show up at Mom’s, the white lights on the porch make the piled-up snow around the drive look like a winter wonderland. I’m not sure I want to have this talk now, but I’ve already missed my plane. If this Christmas is going to be different, it starts with having a conversation I’ve been avoiding.

When we sneak inside, the house is unusually quiet with only the glow of colorful lights brightening the corner where the Christmas tree stands.

Finally, an upstairs door creaks open, and Mom comes to the top of the stairs in a red bathrobe.

“I thought you were leaving?” she asks with a frown. When I told her I wasn’t staying for Christmas, she already knew why. Ever since our argument, things had been strained.

“Me too,” I say. “But I have something that can’t wait.” I look around. “Where are the boys?”

“Brax is out with your friend Jaz.” A smile curls across her lips. “He was pleased to see her again. I think they’ve hit it off.”

I shake my head. “I’ve warned her against dating a hockey player.”

“I’m not sure Jaz will listen,” Jace whispers with a sly smirk.

“You can’t keep two people from falling in love,” Mom adds with a sigh.

I wonder if she’s talking about someone other than Jaz and Brax.

She steps into the kitchen and grabs two plates. “You hungry? There are fresh cookies.”

The fragrant scents of ginger and cinnamon fill the air.

“You’ve been baking?” I look around for the gingerbread cutouts. Mom only bakes when she’s down; it’s one of her coping mechanisms.

She holds up a large plastic container stacked with cookies. “With the festival ending and you leaving, it felt like all the excitement was ending. And honestly...” She pauses to adjust her bathrobe. “Christmas never feels complete without everyone here.”

I say it slowly. “You made cookies because I left?”

“We didn’t part on good terms,” she says, putting cookies on plates and handing them to Jace and me. “I pushed too hard.”

“You didn’t push me away.” I shake my head. “I left. There’s a difference.”

Jace stays silent behind us, letting us have a moment alone.

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