Page 18 of Take Me Home for Christmas

And then his phone went off. It was one of the residents with a question about transferring a patient.

The call didn’t last too long, and I was about to suggest we take this to my bedroom when he sat down—now on the opposite side of my couch—and nervously tapped his fingertips together.

“What is it?” I asked. “Is someone really sick?”

When he looked up, I saw the heat that had so recently flamed in his eyes was replaced by conflict—maybe even misery. A premonition of cold dread shot straight through my overheated body.

“What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?” Clearly something was.

He stood up abruptly. “Mia, I like and respect you so much. So damn much. But I have to tell you now that I never do serious.”

I really liked where that was going until the last sentence.

“Do I—look like I just do serious?” The answer to that must have been yes. Six years with Charlie. Then two years of dating regrets. And now…him. And tragically, I was half in love already, after just three dates.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Oh, that was the worst line. The line of rejection. I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted him so badly, more than I’d ever wanted anyone. Maybe my loneliness had made me desperate, but I could feel the pull between us as deeply as you feel the deep, booming bass on someone’s cranked-up car stereo at a red light. It felt different from anything I’d ever experienced with Charlie.

I wanted to joke, but I was nervous. I’d had a big breakup. I didn’t want to get hurt again. Was he just not into me? But he looked so pained. I could see it in the fine lines above his eyes. His mouth was pressed shut, his lips a straight line. He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

He got up to leave, but before I could think about what I was doing, I grabbed his hand and tugged on it. “Wait,” I said. He turned slowly around. “Don’t go.”

I held my breath. His gaze was conflicted, burning, agonized. Before I could let out that single breath, he stepped forward, swept me into his arms, and kissed me hard.

And he didn’t go. He stayed.

In the car, I shuddered from a sudden chill. I realized that Brax was calling my name.

“Where’d you go?” He touched my arm, which unfortunately started with that tingling sensation again.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m just—” I took a deep breath and tried to remember what we’d been talking about. Oh yes, the farm. My family. “I’m so grateful my mom’s doing well. And my dad—he’s been there every step of the way. I’m anxious to see for myself that they’re back to their old selves.” I was so full of emotion, I had to pause. “I have a great family.”

“Wow,” Brax said.

“What is it?”

He gave a slight shrug. “Most people have issues with their parents. Or they don’t get along with their siblings. You know, typical family stuff.”

I understood what he was saying, but I think that Gracie’s death had made us all appreciate each other a little bit more than typical kids appreciate their parents. Oh, we still had our teenage issues, but somehow, Gracie had made us older and wiser. Her death made us understand how lucky we were to have each other.

Speaking of Grace, I thought about mentioning her, but I just couldn’t. Her memory was so personal to me. Maybe I should have, but I just…didn’t.

I pretty much forgot everything I was worrying about as we finally turned into the long gravel drive. My family’s vintage Queen Anne house was nestled in soft, snowy hills, and came complete with turrets and Christmas lights and garlands with red bows and an electric candle lit in every single window. Clearly, cancer had not beaten the desire to decorate out of my mom, thank goodness. And I still just couldn’t stop grinning.

Home at last.

Chapter Seven

Mia

As soon as we pulled up to the house, the front door opened, and my family came flooding out. First Caleb and Liam. Then my Dad and Liam’s wife, Dina, who was holding my little niece, Emma. They stood there and waved excitedly as we approached.

“It’s like the fricking Waltons.” Brax definitely sounded a little panicked.

I lifted a brow. “Like the old TV show?”

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