Page 256 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

And that was how Jack had become responsible for his sister’s well-being.

Iris’s father was married, and he’d been about as eager to have a child with Genevieve as Jack’s father had been, so he’d paid a small fortune to get her to sign a nondisclosure agreement. Which meant they’d lived fairly well when Iris was little. Not that Genevieve had changed overnight and become a good mother. Thank God she’d hired a nanny for Iris, someone who’d provided her with a bit of the stability that Jack’s grandmother had afforded him. But the well had gone dry after Iris turned four, and the nanny had left. Jack had found himself essentially raising his sister by the time he was fifteen.

His mother had kicked him out the day after his high school graduation, telling him he needed to learn to make his own way in the world like her, which he’d found hilarious since she’d seemed to make her way mostly off the income he and his sister provided. He’d always wondered where the money had gone. His mother must have gotten thousands of dollars in child support a month, and she was a real estate agent who only worked with high-powered clients. Now he suspected she’d run through it all on alcohol and drugs and maybe gambling to self-medicate the bipolar diagnosis she refused to acknowledge.

It didn’t take a genius to realize his eviction had coincided with his father’s last child support check. He’d wanted to tell her off, to confront her with the cold, hard truth of who she was, buthe knew she’d cut him out of her life, which meant she’d cut him out of Iris’s life, which was unacceptable.

So he’d bitten his tongue and suffered her highs and lows, all so he could be there for his sister.

They’d continued to be close, very close. He kept her for occasional overnight visits, but most of the work he did was at night. Although he’d chosen his reading list from the syllabuses of his friends’ classes, he hadn’t gone to college. Instead, he’d worked his way up from busboy to waiter. Bartender to bar manager. It had paid off, and he was finally making decent money, a year out from Iris’s high school graduation—which would free both of them—when he got the call from an attorney in Asheville telling him his paternal grandfather had mentioned him in his will.

And then his whole world had changed.

Part of him still wondered if he shouldn’t have been so insistent about keeping the brewery, but it had felt like his chance to finally make something of himself. To live a life that was no longer dependent on his mother’s whims. To be his own man. Iris was leaving anyway, and after she left for college, he didn’t want to find himself in an empty existence that had suddenly lost its center. Then Iris had called during his and Georgie’s disastrous walk-through of the brewery, less than an hour after they’d signed the papers to keep it. Genevieve had gone off the deep end and hit Iris and then smashed up the house. Jack had caught the first flight out of Asheville and rushed home to get his mother admitted to a psychiatric unit.

He’d spent the whole summer in Chicago, taking care of Iris, filing an emergency petition to get custody. His sister had been one hundred percent on board with the decision…until she found out Jack planned to take her to Asheville.

He’d considered backing out of the brewery, but he could hear his grandmother’s voice in his head.A man’s word is the measure of his character.

But which promise held priority? His promise to help run Buchanan Brewery or his promise to protect his sister? Surely the latter promise was more important—Georgie certainly didn’t need him—and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to step away. It wasn’t just about the opportunity that had fallen into his lap—part of it had been his need to know them, the half-sisters and brother he’d never met.

His mother had been released from the hospital, now on medication to control her mood swings, and Iris had insisted that she wanted to finish out her senior year at home and look after her.

“We can’t both abandon her,” she’d said in a snide tone, a dig at his intended move to Asheville.

“You can come with me, Iris,” he’d insisted. “The judge said you can decide who you want to live with.”

“I know who I want to live with,” she said sullenly. “And I know where I don’t want to live.”

So he’d reluctantly moved to Asheville, waiting until the very last possible moment, praying Iris would change her mind.

Then earlier this week, Iris had called crying, begging him to come home. Their mother had gone off her meds and was acting out worse than before, bringing men to their house and partying and drinking. One of the guys had made advances on Iris after she came home from a half-day at school.

Beyond furious, Jack had insisted on flying home to Chicago to press charges. Iris had already gotten out of the house, thank God, and was staying with a friend, but she’d refused to press charges, saying the guy had only tried to kiss her.

“I don’t want to live with her anymore, Jack. You win. I’ll move to Asheville. How soon can I come?”

He hadn’t wanted to win. He’d only wanted to protect her, which was what he’d always wanted. His greatest hope was that she’d love Asheville as much as he already did.

He’d talked to her friend Janie’s parents, whom he’d gotten to know well over the years, and they’d agreed to bring Iris to Genevieve’s house to pack the rest of her things. Then he’d arranged for an eight a.m. flight out of Chicago to Charlotte.

He pulled into the airport parking lot, his stomach a ball of nerves when he saw that her plane had been scheduled to land five minutes ago. They’d probably arrive at the luggage carousel at the same time, but he’d planned on meeting her at the security exit.

He was late because he’d stayed with Maisie, which filled him with guilt, and then even more guilt because he wasn’t sorry. Even if he never got another day or night with Maisie, he couldn’t regret their night together. Which only proved it had been something special.

But when he walked through the door, he saw Iris was standing next to the carousel, surrounded by three large bags and a couple of small carry-ons. She looked lost and bewildered, and his heart wrenched.

He never should have left her with their mother.

“Iris,” he called out, and her face swung toward him, her dark brown eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Her face crumpled when she saw him, and she burst into sobs.

He ran to her, gathering her in his arms and holding her close as she wet his shirt with her tears. She sobbed and sobbed as he stroked her long dark hair. “You’re safe. I’m here. Nothing’s ever going to happen to you again.”

“Where were you?” she asked, her voice muffled. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

He tilted her head back and cupped her cheek. “I will always come, Iris.Always.”

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