Page 2 of Her Rugged Lumberjack

“Hey sweetie,” she calls, getting out of the car as I do the same. Her voice is thick with emotion, and in the light of a nearby streetlamp, I can see her mascara is painting two dark lines down her cheeks.

“Hi Mom.” I lock my car and give her a quick hug, beckoning her to follow me inside. The apartment looks much emptier now Freya is gone, but I don’t have time to dwell on it because my mom starts talking as soon as I close the door behind us.

“You won’t believe what he’s doing now,” she says bitterly. “You know the tables in the hall? He’s trying to say they’re his! Can you believe that?” Mom paces around, crossing her arms tight. “I know I bought them. I remember buying them!” Her voice is getting louder, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “Oh, Margot, he’s such a BASTARD!”

She cries out the last word and then collapses onto the couch, sobbing into her hands. My heart aches as I sit down beside her and wrap my arms tight around her shaking body.

“It will be okay, Mom,” I tell her softly, like I always do. “Everything will be okay.”

As she wails against my shoulder, soaking me with tears, I’m reminded of why I will never, ever get into a relationship. My parents were together for twenty-five years, and the last ten of those years have been nothing but angry shouting and growing resentments. Now it’s all crashing down around them, and the result is nothing but misery. I don’t know why people willingly put themselves through this kind of pain. If you ask me, true love is a myth. Things always end badly in real life.

No way am I ever going to risk my heart by getting into a relationship.

No way will I ever cry like this because of a man.

My mom’s face is screwed up tight, tears streaming as I mutter gentle platitudes, words I’ve said a million times before.

“Let me grab you some water and tissues, okay?” I tell her. It’s the only thing I can think of, rather than sitting here uselessly.

She nods, hiccuping loudly, and I get up from the couch, heading into the kitchen. As I turn on the faucet, my phone pings, and I open the notification with one hand. It’s my dad, and I already know what it will say.

Margot, if you see your mom, tell her the tables are mine! I have the receipt! I bought the damn things!

I roll my eyes and pocket my phone, carrying the water and tissues back to my mom. She wipes her face, still sobbing, and as I look at her, I feel even more determined to never let another person affect my emotions like this. I might have a hundred different problems right now, but a broken heart will sure as heck never be one of them.

2

DECLAN

It’s a frosty November morning,and the air chills my bones as I stride through the lines of Christmas trees, which grow in neat rows as far as the eye can see. Snow fell in buckets overnight, so the branches are lined with white fluff, making the farm look like a winter wonderland.

It’s still hard to believe my brother and I own all this.

When our dad died back in March, he left everything to me and Nolan, including the Christmas tree farm, cornfield, and pumpkin patch. It’s a giant plot of land and a hell of a lot to handle. Now that winter is approaching, the pumpkins have all been sold or composted, and the corn has been harvested, so the Christmas trees are our focus. The farm opens to the public next week, and I’m determined to make opening day a success. This is our first Christmas without Dad, and I want to prove that I have what it takes to run this operation, just like he did. I want to make the old man proud, even though he’s gone.

With my axe in hand, I find one of the prettiest trees and start to chop the base, driving my blade forward. It topples over slowly, and I shake out the loose needles, watching as a squirrel darts from the branches and scurries away. Reaching into my pocket, I unwrap a thick piece of string and wrap it aroundthe tree, securing the branches before hoisting it up over my shoulder.

“Hey!” I peer around the tree, frowning when I see my brother stumbling backward, away from the sharp needles pointing at him. He scowls at me. “You almost took my damn eye out.”

“That’s what you get for sneaking up on people.”

He steps aside to let me pass, then follows me, eyeing the tree still slung over my shoulder. “Good size,” he says. “Nice color too.”

I don’t say anything. I know my brother; he didn’t follow me all the way out here to comment on a tree. Silence stretches between us, broken only by the crunch of our boots in the snow.

“There’s something I forgot to mention,” Nolan says eventually.

“What?”

“I decided to hire another worker.”

I swing around to look at him, and Nolan ducks just in time as the tree swings around with me. “We don’t need another worker. We have plenty of people here already.”

Nolan grabs the tree off my shoulder and tosses it to the ground with a scowl. “Sure, we have people to help with the trees, but we need somebody to decorate the barn and deal with customers once the place opens.”

The barn is the main building on the farm, and I haven’t gotten around to making it look festive yet. There’s too much other shit to do. But that doesn’t mean we need to hire another person. Hell, I was reluctant to hire anybody at all, but Nolan talked me into bringing in a few seasonal workers. This is a family-run business and has been for generations. I hate the idea of our farm being overrun with outside help.

“We don’t need to hire anybody to make the barn look festive.” I cross my arms, frowning at my brother. “I’ll put upsome tinsel and stick a Christmas tree in the corner. It’s not hard.”

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