Page 108 of The Crush of Christmas Past
A buzz from his phone saves me from trying to talk past the knot in my throat.
His eyes drift to the device on the nightstand. “Shit. That’s work.” He rubs a hand across his forehead, creasing the skin with tension. “I wouldn’t even think about checking it if we weren’t going live in less than a week.” Rapid-fire alerts light up the screen. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Go ahead.” That many middle-of-the-night notifications in a row can’t be good news.
He grimaces as he scans the texts, expression hardening with each swipe of his fingers. The longer he reads, the deeper the lines around his mouth dig in.
“Problem?” I prompt.
“Multiple problems.” Settling back beside me, he drapes his arm over his eyes and releases a low groan. “Tomorrow. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.”
But then his phone vibrates again.
Andagain.
“Damn it,” he curses as the rattle continues.
“Sounds urgent.”
“New intel just dropped on the company we’re representing. VorVex Tech is supposed to be eco-conscious, sustainable, ethically responsible…” His features shift, the sharp angles of his face turning even more severe. “If this checks out and they’re violating human rights? We’ll have to kill the launch.”
NXT Collective was built on integrity and transparency.A better future for all. That’s not just their slogan, but the backbone behind all they do. Theo would raze the company to the ground before cashing a check soaked in hypocrisy.
“If we back out now, we’re the villains in their version of the story,” he says flatly. “The ironclad morality clause we have in place won’t make a difference. Walking away will bury us.”
“I’m sorry.” I press a gentle palm to his shoulder. “I know how important this deal is for your firm.”
“A lot is riding on it,” he acknowledges. “Too much, to be honest. But no amount of success justifies multiple counts of workers’ rights violations.” His eyes harden as he scans the screen. “How the hell did we miss this in discovery?”
“Do you think it’s true?”
“Even a sliver of truth will end us.” With a sharp exhale, he tosses the phone aside. “I gotta head to the city. Figure out how to call an emergency all-hands-on-deck meeting without blowing up everyone’s holiday.” He fists his hair, giving the dark strands a frustrated tug. “We’re officially in crisis mode.”
“I don’t envy your position.” The pressure he’s under—balancing the commitment to his staff, his clients, and the public—can easily crush a person.
“Come back with me?” The words swirl between offer, plea, and command. “I need to deal with this disaster, but once it’s taken care of…” He reaches for me, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. “We can go back to what we were doing. Finish our vacation. We’ll ring in the new—”
“I’m staying here,” I blurt out, pulling away. “Permanently.”
Surprise flashes across his face. He withdraws his fingers, flexes his hand into a fist, then drops it. “You’re moving back to Sugarpine Springs?”
I nod. “I want to build something real somewhere that matters. I left this place, but my heart never let go. Coming home feels like the right kind of beginning. For my business, but also…my future.”
His brows shoot up. “I had no idea your connection to the town was so strong.”
“Me neither,” I say honestly. “I buried all feelings the same day I buried my parents. Then life just kept distracting me. School, work, bills—survival from all sides. Forcing myself to stop dreaming was easy. Safe. But now that fate kicked me out of my comfort zone, I need to make this next chapter count. I’m ready to breathe again. Smile. Create.Live. And I want to do it where I feel the strongest connection to my parents. I’ve spent so much time stuffing down all memories in fear of not being able to endure them, but I’m ready.”
Finally.
I press a hand to my chest and smile. “Did I ever tell you about my parents’ gallery plans?”
Theo shakes his head but doesn’t monopolize the moment by speaking.
“A few years before the crash, they started mapping out plans to build a space where my mom could teach classes, sell her paintings, and showcase other local artists. They were days from signing a contract to turn that dream into a reality.”
Greene Gallery.
Forever a fantasy but never forgotten.
