Page 18 of Her Cowboy Prince Charming

Now he was the one who had to take the risk.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JESSIEWASSTANDINGin front of the Christmas tree, staring up at the lights. She just... She ached. And she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. It was this season. Because it was so full of hope. Because every song promised that if you let your heart be light your troubles would be out of sight. Because the world acted as if Christmas was a giant antidepressant, when for her... Perhaps it was that. The glitter over the top of the darkness. It just didn’t seem to make it better. It often made it worse. And she had wanted to do something, to feel something, that would make that desperate weight go away, and all she’d done was stepped into a further complication.

And then suddenly, she felt his presence behind her. And she knew it was him. Like she knew the snow was falling outside even though she couldn’t hear it. Knew it was him just like she knew that tomorrow, even when the sun lit up the world, and Dylan walked through the door, they would be together, but never really quite together.

Because she knew that no matter how much glitter, there would always be darkness.

She turned to face him. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Because. It’s Christmas Eve. And you were beginning to look a little bit sad over dinner.”

“Christmas always makes me sad. That’s why I dressed up. And put all that makeup on and went to the masquerade.”

“Because you wanted something to make you feel better?”

“And another memory for Christmas.”

“What’s your bad Christmas memory?”

“It’s not really a bad memory. It’s just a bad feeling. Like it’s supposed to do something that it can’t. And that’s worse than every other time. Like a whole season of birthdays, but you don’t want to get another year older. Something like that. And it’s always being shouted at you. Relentlessly, in songs and movies and commercials, that it’s the season to be joyous. But it’s often when I miss my family the most. Often when I feel the biggest ache. Gratitude toward Levi, and pain over missing my parents. All of it. That’s the problem. It’s just... It’s just so hard.”

“Hey,” he said. “I know.”

“I know.”

“Take a walk with me.”

“It’s cold outside.”

“I guess that’s like Christmas,” he said. “Because here we are, standing in front of the tree, but if we go outside it’s going to be cold. The snow is still there, even though it’s warm in here. Just like the glitter doesn’t take away the grief. It’s just there. Like it’s always been. Like it always will be. So you might as well walk in the snow. For a little bit.”

“I’m not sure if that made no sense or...more sense than any damned Christmas carol I’ve heard.”

“Let’s find out.”

She looked around, checking for Levi. Damien didn’t seem to be concerned at all. He took her hand, and they went outside. The air was light and cold, sharp. White flakes tumbled down through the air, landing with absolute silence onto the snowpack that already surrounded them. It was dark, except for the moon, which shone valiantly through a hole in the clouds. Now that she was thinking of it all like a metaphor, she really couldn’t unsee it that way. It was just all there. All the time. A fire inside if she needed to get warm. The moon, to guide her way even in the darkness.

And Damien was there. And he was warm and solid standing next to her. They started to walk, and she didn’t think too deeply about where they were walking. She just listened to the crunch of their footsteps in the snow. She just enjoyed being beside him, because she had wanted that. She had wanted that for a long time. And it was Christmas Eve. And if the songs could promise that there was something magical about it, she didn’t know why she couldn’t have magic in the moment. She was desperate for it, in fact. Hungry for it. So when she reached out and let her fingertips touch his, she waited. For him to respond. To see if he felt it, too. To see if he was caught up in it. And then he wrapped his fingers around hers, and walked along the darkened road with her, holding her hand. Like they were something more than two people who had quick sex in a broom closet. Like they were something more than two people who had known each other with a whole other person between them.

She was Levi’s younger sister. He was Levi’s best friend. But Levi wasn’t there now. It was just Jessie and Damien. And what they were to each other. Which seemed to shift and change with each step forward. Which seemed to grow with each deep breath she took in, as if she could feel her lungs just slightly more each and every time. With the air. With promise. With hope.

They were headed toward his cabin. That much was apparent now. It was small and cozy, and he’d left a fire going in the woodstove. It was one room, and she knew that there was just an outhouse out back. And her shoe was sitting on the table right there in the entryway.

“Sit down for a second,” he said.

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

So she did, and he knelt in front of her, beginning to untie the laces on her snow boot, slowly and painstakingly. And she couldn’t help but laugh. “Damien,” she said. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But it seems like the thing to do, Cinderella. In fact, it doesn’t really seem like there’s any other point.”

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