Page 56 of The Mountain Man's Christmas Virgin
A carved ornament rests in his palm: holly leaves and berries, each vein visible in the wood. Underneath is the wordHART.
Tears prick hot behind my eyes. “Cole.”
“For your tree. For our trees. Wherever we are—the cabin, here, anywhere—you’re mine. And I’m yours. That’s the promise. Every year. Every Christmas. Every day between.”
“It’s perfect.”
“You’re beautiful. And you’re home. My home.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I take the ornament. The wood is smooth under my fingers.
I kiss him again, tasting salt from my tears and the whiskey someone pressed into his hand at midnight.
Around us, people toast, laugh, and celebrate. Roz wipes her eyes with a napkin. Mrs. Porter smiles. Jesse raises his whiskey glass in silent approval, Nora tucked against his side with a glass of sparkling cider. Wells holds Paige.
Later, after everyone leaves with hugs and promises to do this again, we clean up and bank the fire. I hang the ornament on the small tree we set up in the corner, right next to the one Cole carved with my name back at the cabin.
HOLLYandHARTside by side.
“Next year…” Cole wraps his arms around me from behind, chin resting on top of my head. “We host the cookie route from here. Together. Make it official.”
“Our place.”
“Yeah. Our place. Our route. Our life.”
I lean back into him. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely.”
Outside, the last fireworks fade into smoke and stars. The valley settles into the new year, quiet and peaceful. Snow falls, covering everything in a blanket of white.
I turn in his arms and look up at him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For seeing me. For making me believe I could have this.”
His eyes shine. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
He kisses my forehead, my nose, then my mouth.
I rest my head on his chest and look at our ornaments on the tree. “Home.”
