Page 90 of Cowboy SEAL Christmas

One, two, three. Gabe counted, breathing with it. Shove, scoop, lift, throw.Four, five, six.

“You have forty-eight hours.”

Seven, eight…He turned to look at Alex. “What?”

“Forty-eight hours to get yourself out of this little snit on your own, and then Jack and I interfere.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Alex smiled, turning into the Christmas lights glowing from the house. The smile was one Gabe had nearly forgotten. The kind Alex used to flash at a guy who tried to challenge him.

“Doubt you want to find out, brother.”

* * *

Monica had promised herself, over and over, on the plane ride to Denver that she wasn’t going to cry when she saw Colin. After all, she’d spent days crying at this point. Crying and trying to figure out a solution to this horrible, horrible heartbreak.

There didn’t seem to be one. Maybe she’d find a Christmas miracle, but before she could, she needed to pick up her son. She needed to have Christmas with her family and enjoy that. Really, really enjoy it.

Heartbreak happened. Loss definitely happened. In those breaks and losses, leaning on and loving her family had always given her the strength to keep on moving.

So, yes, when she saw her parents drive up to the airport’s pickup curb, Colin’s dark head visible in the back window, she started to cry. Not a particularly pretty cry either, but she hefted her carry-on bag into the trunk of her parents’ car and then slid into the back seat next to Colin.

She pulled him to her, rough and tight. “I missed you so much.” Teardrops dripped into his hair, and she felt a kind of relaxation take over her body. Whatever had happened or would happen back at the ranch, she had this amazing boy.

He’d grow up and go on his own someday, but he’d always be hers.

“Ugh, Mom. Really.” But Colin didn’t squirm or push her away. His displeasure was all verbal, while he snuggled a little closer inside her tight embrace.

She held on to him the whole way back to her parents’ house. Mom had a roast in the slow cooker and the house smelled like Monica’s childhood Christmases—meat and baking with the faintest hint of evergreen.

It made her joyful and sad all at the same time. She’d celebrated her son’s first Christmas in this house, but her childhood Christmases had been spent anywhere and everywhere. Still, the smell tied all those years together. The smell and her parents and…

She didn’t want to cry again. So, at dinner, she incited her father into an argument over presidents. She guessed gifts with Colin under the tree. She put Colin to bed in his old room, and when she went downstairs afterward, her mother handed her a drink.

“Alcoholic,” Mom assured her.

Monica lifted the boozy hot chocolate to her mouth and took a sip. “You’re the best mom.”

Mom laughed, then patted the couch cushion next to her. “Have a sit, my girl.”

“Why does this feel like every teenage inquisition I was ever treated to?”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

Mom pointed at the mug. “The alcohol.”

Monica laughed, the weird, nostalgic relaxation washing over her all over again. “I miss you.”

“We miss you too. I’d point out you can move back, but I suppose you already know that.”

“I love you both, and I miss you both, but I love it there. More than even I had hoped I would.”

“So why are you sad?”

Monica looked at the prettily decorated tree. She could tell where Mom had let Colin help decorate because a bunch of Broncos-related ornaments hung in a clump at the center. She’d once done the same with her favorite ornaments, but Mom had always spread them out after Monica had gone to bed.

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