Page 21 of Mountain Daddy
And then?—
Small footsteps thump down the hallway, followed by an excited squeal.
“It stopped snowing! It’s Christmas Eve!”
I bolt upright. “Shit.”
Celia laughs under her breath and sits up, tugging my flannel shirt around her body like a blanket. The sight of her in my shirt… it hits me hard. Too hard.
I scrub a hand over my face. “I should?—”
“Yeah.” She stands and heads for the door, cheeks flushed but eyes warm. “Me too.”
We meet Elsie in the hallway. She’s vibrating with excitement, hair sticking up like she’s been rolling around in dreams all night.
“Daddy! Celia! It’s Christmas Eve! We have to go to the celebration tonight. We have to!”
My stomach drops.
Because the celebration means crowds.
Crowds mean gossip.
And gossip means eyes on us.
Hell no.
I crouch down beside her. “Bug, that might not be a great idea.”
“Why not?” she demands. “Everyone goes! And I want Celia to hear my song!”
Celia gives me a cautious look, stepping in gently. “If he’s worried about the roads?—”
“It’s not the roads,” I mutter.
“It’s politics,” Elsie says dramatically, parroting something she’s heard around town without any idea what it means. “Adults worry about politics.”
Celia bites back a smile. I glare at the ceiling.
“Bug,” I try again, “I don’t think?—”
“Please?” She folds her hands under her chin like a tiny dictator. “Please please please?”
Celia looks at me, voice soft. “We don’t have to make a big entrance. We can stick close together. Just for her performance.”
Damn it.
She’s right. And it’s what Elsie wants more than anything.
And Celia standing there in my shirt, looking like everything good that ever happened to me, is not helping my resolve.
I exhale heavily. “Fine. Just for a little while.”
Elsie launches herself at us both. “Yay! The best Christmas ever!”
Celia laughs. And I wish—just for a second—that this could stay simple. That wanting her didn’t feel like inviting disaster.
But the day moves fast.
