“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dylan fires back, his smirk stretching wider, like he knows exactly which buttons to push.
My jaw locks so tight it aches. Because what I want more than anything in this moment is to rearrange his smug face with one clean right hook. But I fight it, for Jaylynn. She doesn’t want that from me.
Instead, I climb into the back of Will’s vehicle with Jay pressed to my side. Will blasts Christmas songs, everyone singing at the top of their lungs. Everyone but me. Because while they sing, I’m stewing. Not just at Dylan’s digs or his smirk.
No.
I’m stewing over the question that won’t leave me alone. What the hell is Dylan up to? He can mess with me all he likes, but if he fucks this up for Jaylynn or hurts her heart, or her chances at pulling this off and getting the job of her dreams, I’ll destroy him.
Every now and then I catch the way Jay’s eyes flick toward me—soft, worried, protective. She senses it too. Dylan’s circling, looking for cracks to pry apart. I give her hand a squeeze, trying to reassure her, even though the truth is I’m wound tight as barbed wire inside. The last thing I want is for him to ruin this festival for her.
“Penn,” Will calls from the front seat, catching my eye in the rear-view mirror. His chin jerks toward the town square. “Check it out.”
I follow his line of sight to the massive nativity set standing proud in the middle of town. My grin spreads when I see the big star—the same one that started it all. The storm. The country club. The night that changed everything.
Jaylynn glances at me, a smile on her face and I know she’s thinking the same things as I am. She leans into me and whispers, “If only we could have bottled that night so it would last forever.”
I nod, my heart pounding a bit harder as my gaze strays to the wooden panel on the nativity set. It looks broken, the box underneath leaning wrong.
“Looks like the winds knocked it around. Maybe you and I can grab a hammer tomorrow and patch it up.”
My stomach knots. A hammer? I couldn’t hammer a nail straight if my life depended on it. “Uh, yeah, sure,” I manage, my throat tight. The old familiar shame prickles under my skin—never handy enough, never skilled enough.
Jaylynn feels it instantly. She threads her fingers tighter through mine, her thumb brushing the back of my hand. That one small touch tells me she doesn’t give a damn about my useless hammer skills. Does that mean to her, I am enough?
“I really hope Elaine will join us for Christmas dinner,” Judy chimes in, her voice bright with genuine warmth.
I shrug, trying to keep it light. “She’s set in her ways. Crowds aren’t her thing. But…I’ll ask her.”
We head toward the edge of town, and my chest grows tighter with every mile. Other cars are already parked outside Elaine’s place, headlights cutting through the dark. A lump rises in my throat. It’s not shame—not exactly. It’s just… this house, this woman, this life—it’s mine. And the idea of Dylan standing on this porch, peering into the corners of my world, makes me want to barricade the door.
The front door creaks open as we pile out. Elaine, wrapped in her robe, beams when she sees us. “Oh, this is lovely,” she says, her voice touched with the same eccentric warmth she’s always carried. She ducks inside for her coat, and when she joins us again, her smile is so wide it damn near splits her face.
We gather around, singing into the night. She claps, hums, even throws in a few notes off-key, and my heart clenches. God, I love this woman. She raised me when no one else would, and I’d burn down the whole damn town if anyone mocked her for it.
Especially Dylan.
When the carols fade, I step up and wrap her in a hug, breathing in the familiar scent of her lavender lotion. “Elaine, Judy was hoping you’d join us for Christmas dinner.”
Her brows lift. “We’re not having our own dinner here?” There’s a flicker of disappointment, like I’ve let her down without meaning to.
“It’s the cats, Elaine. I can’t.” Right on cue, Muffin barrels against the screen door with a yowl, and my nose instantly starts itching. I sneeze three times in a row.
“Oh, Penn,” she murmurs, guilt lacing her tone. “If I’d only known…”
I cup her hands. “I like that you took them in. But I also want to spend Christmas day with you. So, come with me. Please.”
Her face softens into a smile. “I’ll come.”
Relief floods me as I hug her again, but the moment’s shattered by Dylan’s voice, slick and sharp.
“So, you didn’t know Penn wasn’t going to spend Christmas with you?”
The words land like a stone in my gut. He says it with just enough edge to stir doubt, to make it sound like I’d left her behind.
Elaine stiffens, turning toward him. Her expression flickers, recognition, followed by a carefully polite smile. “Dylan. Is that you?”
Her tone is brittle, like glass about to crack, and my body coils tight. Because I know Dylan. He’s not here to sing carols. He’s here to poke holes, to take shots, to remind me—and Jay—of every place I fall short.