Page 31 of Rowdy St. Nick

We laugh as they depart, but now I really want a cup of hot chocolate now also.

“Hey, let’s go get some,” I suggest to my family. Luckily, this is one thing we agree on, and we follow Levi and Becks.

At the vendor’s booth, I grab a couple of steaming mugs of hot chocolate and hand one to my brother as we step aside, away from the festive bustle and the prying ears of our family.

"Spill it, Tessy," he says, using the nickname only he can get away with.

"Mom and Dad are at it again with their parade of Mr. Perfects. It's like they've got a lineup of Ken dolls, and they're just waiting for me to pick one," I confide, blowing on my hot chocolate before taking a cautious sip.

"Ah, the joys of parental matchmaking," he chuckles. "You know you don't have to follow their script, right?"

"Easy for you to say. You're the golden boy," I retort with a nudge of my elbow.

"Look, Tess," he starts, then pauses, choosing his words. "You've always been the wild Mustang. Untamable. They know that deep down, even if they pretend otherwise."

"Untamable, huh?" I smirk. The truth is, the thought of disappointing them ties my stomach in knots. I take another sip.

"Besides," he continues, "since when do you care about anyone's opinion? Last I checked, Tess Daily does what Tess Daily wants."

"Guess I'm just tired of the tug-of-war." My voice drops, almost lost in the noise of the festival. "Between being myself and being who they want."

"Who do you want?" he asks, not skipping a beat.

It's my turn to pause. Images flash through my mind: Parker's intense gaze, his playful smile, but then the way my heart races at the brush of a leather cuff around my wrist.

"Someone who gets me. Who doesn't just tolerate my..." The words hang between us while my cheeks flush with the heat that's not from the drink or the cold.

"Then go after that someone. Screw expectations." He bumps my shoulder.

"Thanks," I respond. "You’re right, fuck it." I set my mug down on a nearby table with a defiant click.

I march up to Mom and Dad, where they're huddled near the mistletoe-covered gazebo, their heads close together like two conspiring elves. My boots crunch on the frosted grass, each step hard and determined. I can't remember a time when my heart thumped this loud.

"Mom, Dad, we need to talk," I say.

They turn to me. "What's wrong, honey?" Mom asks, her sweet voice laced with concern that only makes the ember of defiance in me flare hotter.

"About Parker," I start, my voice steady even though my insides quiver. "I know you are ready for me to find someone steady and secure."

"Sweetheart, we just want what's best for you—" Mom tries, reaching out, but I step back.

"Best for me? Because what's best for me is someone who gets me, who doesn't try to fence me in. That's Parker. These things take time, you know?" I need them to understand. "Look, I love you both, but I'm not your little girl anymore. I'm wild and free, and if Parker's willing to ride alongside me, then that's my choice."

Silence.

Then, Dad clears his throat, looking anywhere but at me. "You really care about him, don't you?"

"Yes, I sure do," I admit.

Mom's hand finds Dad's. She looks at him, then at me, her eyes softening. "We just want to protect you. And…" Her voice cracks, and she swallows hard. "Maybe we need to trust your heart."

"Trust goes both ways," I whisper.

Dad nods slowly. "We'll try, Tess. We love you, honey."

"Thank you," I breathe out.

"Your happiness is what matters," Mom interjects. She reaches out, touching my wrist gently. "Even if we don't understand all your choices."

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