Page 41 of The Bookworm Who Stole Christmas
I don’t know what Mom said, but whatever it was seems to have worked because the tears slowly dry up on Maddie’s face.
Mimicking Mom, I start picking up wet tinsel, moving it to a pile next to the tree. Amelia joins in, followed by Dad,and they start untangling the lights. Amelia gives Maddie a bright smile and a thumbs-up, and Dad gently pats her on the shoulder before heading to his car.
Taylor Swift’s version ofSilent Nightechoes on the street around us, and I realize what Dad did—he put the radio on. I smile as these wonderful humans help fix what was broken.
One by one, I watch as townsfolk start picking up discarded and damaged items from the ground. I get to work gathering stuff up and putting them into piles.
I stand up, glancing at Maddie. She’s staring at the crowd of people, her eyes darting all around as she takes in everyone helping. Over the course of ten minutes, more and more people have joined to help. Phone calls were made, and reinforcements were called in.
I walk over to her, putting my arms around her waist. “This is the true spirit of Christmas, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear.
“Why aren’t they mad at me? I ruined Christmas,” she says, sniffling.
I spin her around in my arms, taking her face in my hands. “You didn’t ruin Christmas, Maddie. It was an accident.” I gesture around us, my arm wide. “All of this can be replaced. It can be made bigger and better. This will just be a story for us to tell the grandkids.”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead right about now.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, Parker Grayson, and if I don’t like the answers, there will be no grandkids,” she replies, glaring at me.
“Let’s finish up here and I’ll explain everything, alright?” I ask, placing a kiss on the top of her head.
She doesn’t fight me, so I take it as a good sign. I just hope I can fix us as easily as fixing this tree.
Chapter Twenty-Five
MADDIE
It’s a mess. A complete mess.
I look around, appalled at what I’ve done. One moment of anger led tothis. I’ve never been able to control my emotions—I resort to anger as a defense mechanism as it's easier to deal with than any other emotion—but this… this is going too far.
My actions have hurt the people who have only ever been kind to me since I moved here. Tears stream down my face as I glance around at the townsfolk, each one of them with varying degrees of shock, horror, pity, and sadness on their faces.
But what surprises me is they don’t immediately get their pitchforks out, demanding my demise and trying to run me out of town. No, they start gathering items and placing them in piles—items that can be used again, items that are completely trashed, and items that need fixing.
Silent Nightstarts playing softly in the background, and people sing along to it as they work. My heart expands in my chest as I watch. Is this what they mean when they saythat Christmas is about giving? That it’s not about the presents but the act of forgiveness?
Samantha engulfs me in a hug, but I’m still too stunned to move. My arms hang limply at my sides as I fail to take my eyes off the train wreck in front of me.
“It was an accident. Everything is going to be okay, you’ll see.” She draws back and wipes the tears from my face with her gloves. “You’re a good person, Maddie. Just don’t forget that there are other genuinely good people in this world who care and want to help. We are all here foryou.”
I give her a soft smile in return, emotion clogging my throat.
“Give him a chance to explain,” she says gently. “I don’t know what you heard, but he was just trying to help in his own weird way. My son can get a bit carried away at times, but it comes from a place of love.” She pats my shoulder gently. “He needs you. Theybothneed you.”
Samantha walks off to Amelia, who gives me a thumbs up, but I don’t know how to react. I don’t have the energy to call after her, to ask more questions. I need to get those answers from Parker.
Arms wrap around my waist, and I immediately know it's him from the smell of his cologne. He rests his head on my shoulder, whispering, “This is the true spirit of Christmas, sweetheart.”
I guess he’s not wrong. I just don’t understand it.
“Why aren’t they mad at me? I ruined Christmas,” I reply, still watching as people walk back and forth, carrying items. They’ve even started laughing and playing around in the snow.
He grips my hips, turning me to face him, brushing a stray hair from my face. “You didn’t ruinChristmas, Maddie. It was an accident. All of this can be replaced. It can be made bigger and better. This will just be a story for us to tell the grandkids.” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.
Grandkids? He has some fucking nerve.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, Parker Grayson, and if I don’t like the answers, there will be no grandkids,” I reply, glaring at him.
