Page 144 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

But they’re not the only good part,a voice whispers. And I find myself thinking of Nicole. Of Hilde. Of Dottie. And of those brief moments when I thought Jace could maybe be a friend—and those other moments when I fantasized about the benefits thing.

“Okay,” Aidan says softly. “I’m ready.”

I know what that means—I have to be too.

So I inhale a few deep breaths, and by the time we get out of the car, I’m ready to smile and greet our family. Everyone exchanges hellos, Aidan hanging back a little, although he does make a point of looking in Maisie’s box (the metal baking tray inside is covered). We head inside together, which is when I remember our crappy Charlie Brown tree.

Of course, Molly and Maisie notice it immediately. They exchange identicalMary’s losing itlooks, and I honestly can’t blame them. It’s a crappy tree, even though I’ve turned the naked side toward the wall, and they know Aidan and I have never left a tree bare for this long. Almost a week.

“Maybe we can help you decorate your sad, pathetic tree?” Molly suggests in an upbeat tone.

“That would be really fun!” Maisie says with almost convincing cheer. She takes the pie from Molly and heads into the kitchen with our dinner feast.

“Trees can’t be sad, Aunt Molly,” Aidan says seriously. “They’re trees. We saved it from a woodchipper.”

“I can tell,” Molly mumbles.

Cal clears his throat and wraps an arm around her waist. “It has fine, strong wood. It would have been a shame to leave it for the chipper.”

Aidan considers this for a moment and then nods. “Still, we’re not going to decorate it.”

Because he wanted to do it with Jace.

They know not to push him, thank God. To my surprise, as if their actions were choreographed, Molly leads Aidan over to his new Lego set—a limited edition T. rex versus ankylosaurus set—and Cal and Maisie sit me down at the dining room table with some hot cocoa Maisie must have brought in a thermos.

God bless her, there’s a bit of whiskey in mine. I don’t have any, so she must have brought that from home too.

“I figured it out after we spoke, but I placed a cat with Jace a few years ago,” she says.

“A cat?” I ask in confusion. Her animal shelter is called Dog is Love—she doesn’t come by many cats, if only because she’d have nowhere to keep them.

“I know they’re not my usual, but I found this one zipped up in a duffel bag inside a dumpster.” Her voice shakes a little as she says it, with the rage she feels on the cat’s behalf. “I wasn’t about to trust anyone else with him.”

“But you trusted Jace with him…” I say, feeling the weight of that. Because Maisie isn’t the sort to send an animal off with just anyone, especially an animal she suspects was abused.

“I did. They had a connection, and he seemed as pissed off by what had happened to Bingo as I was. Jace didn’t have to disclose that he was a felon, but he did. I spoke to a couple of his neighbors”—her mouth twists wryly—“and they told me in no uncertain terms that I’d be a fool to turn him down.”

I feel another stab of guilt. He didn’t have to tell her, or me, about his past, and yet he did. It’s a kind of honesty I envy.

She tilts her head, studying me. “I seem to remember him being quite handsome.”

I choke on my saliva, feeling like I’ve swallowed my own tongue. “Well. I guess. I mean, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

She stifles a laugh, because honestly, whoisn’tinto that kind of thing, and I feel heat in my face as I turn to Cal with a questioning look. I suspect he’s not just here to play Molly’s babysitter.

He gives a slight nod. “Molly told me everything.”

“Of course she did,” Maisie and I say, practically together. Our little sister can keep a secret, but she’s also a talker.

His smile is fond. “Anyway,” he says, “I’ve heard of Jace too. He used to work for a real shithead, but he changed jobs. The guy he’s with now is an acquaintance of mine, and Chuck mentioned Jace a couple of times. Thinks a lot of the guy. He told me he got a bad rap. Chuck said he’s a hard worker. Underused.”

I might not be a criminal lawyer, but I know some. The system only pretends to be fair, and it’s obvious Jace pissed off the wrong person. His actions were immature and inexcusable, but he was right when he said he’d paid for his crime and then some. Three years is a lengthy sentence for stealing a car, even more so because the crime was committed so long ago.

I didn’t treat Jace fairly, and he’s someone who’s already gotten plenty of that. I need to apologize to him, even though thethought of seeing him again, of confronting him after what I did, makes me want to tuck my head between my legs again.

The newly perverted part of me, woken by Jace and maybe Nicole, suggests I’d prefer for his head to be between my legs, but I’ve never…I don’t…

“Thanks,” I say to them, gulping spiked hot chocolate to tame the burning in my cheeks.

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