13. Brad

13

brAD

S ometime after midnight, Brad rolled over again, telling himself it was the lumpy old mattress that was keeping him up, even though he knew better.

Sighing, he sat up and stretched his arms as he looked out the window. Snow flurries danced in the moonlight and he smiled at the sight, feeling like a little boy again for a moment.

Will Josie feel this way about Trinity Falls one day?

But thoughts of his daughter led him straight back to what he had been trying not to dwell on. Watching Jillian guide her through how to share their traditions had nearly broken his heart.

Josie had been excited and proud of the idea that she had something meaningful and fun to pass along to her cousins. She hadn’t sensed the heartbreak Jillian hid so well.

But Brad could feel it as if it were his own. He had watched Jillian take his daughter into her arms without hesitation nine years ago. And now he was watching her learn to let her go.

I don’t want her to let go.

But that line of thought was selfish, and it wouldn’t get him anywhere anyway. Jillian had another job lined up. He had arranged it himself. She was only here because she was too kindhearted not to give Josie some extra time to accept what was happening.

But now his heart was racing and his stomach was clenching, and he knew it would be another long, restless night.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood, letting the cold pine floor under his bare feet invigorate him. He definitely wasn’t going to sleep. He might as well go downstairs and get a little work done.

He slipped past Josie and Jillian’s room, and headed for the stairwell. The steps creaked, sounding louder than usual in the darkened house. The thermostat was turned down at night, so the empty downstairs was colder than usual. Between that and the rich pine scent of the Christmas tree, he felt almost like he was sneaking through the moonlit woods rather than slipping downstairs in his own house.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard murmuring that definitely didn’t belong in the forest. Moving as quietly as he could on his bare feet, he made his way toward the warm light emanating from the kitchen. The murmurs coalesced into words as he got closer.

“ Good grief ,” Jillian was muttering to herself impatiently. “ Why won’t you just stay where I put you? ”

Her frustrated tone was unfamiliar. Jillian was always calm and patient.

He turned the corner and saw her framed by the open kitchen counter, frowning down at the pieces of the gingerbread house.

A yellow, stained-glass pendant light with a single bulb hung over Jillian’s workspace. It had probably been installed in the seventies, but the golden light it cast made the whole kitchen feel like it was filled with summer sunlight—a warmth that was in direct contrast with Jillian’s dark mood.

Brad found himself smiling and thinking to himself that he might clean that fixture up, but he was definitely keeping it now.

“Do you need some help?” he asked her gently, not wanting to scare her.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Brad. Wow, I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

Her eyes moved over him, as if she wondered if he wasn’t feeling well. They froze over his chest and then she looked away quickly.

He glanced down to see what she’d been looking at, but he was just wearing the same old white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweats, his usual winter sleepwear—nothing he wouldn’t wear to the gym or even just to lounge around the house.

“I’m just getting the gingerbread house put together,” she told him, her eyes back on her work .

“I thought you and Josie already did that,” he said, following her gaze to the tray.

“Well,” she said, sounding a little uncomfortable. “Maybe it’s best for me to let you in on just the tiniest secret now.”

“What is it?” he asked, intrigued. Jillian was one of the most straightforward people he knew. He couldn’t imagine what secret she would be hiding.

“Putting together a gingerbread house is hard,” she told him. “Like really hard. And Josie likes to use a lot of candy, which means it has to bear weight. I use this wooden box to support it when the two of us put it together, but then after she falls asleep, I have to come down and keep working on it until it can actually stand on its own.”

“That is a big secret,” Brad had to admit. He had heard her tell Josie before that they would use the box just until it dries. He’d had no idea the whole thing was a ruse. “How do you do it?”

“At the end of the day, it really comes down to the frosting,” she told him. “I just keep making it thicker and thicker and getting more layers on there until it’s strong enough to hold. But there’s a lot of trial and error. And a lot of talking to myself.”

“I see,” he said, trying hard not to laugh.

“I mean, if I had an architecture degree, maybe I wouldn’t need so much frosting ,” she joked.

“I think I can help,” he told her. “If you want me to, that is.”

“ Yes, ” she said. “Please, I would love your help.”

“Okay,” he told her. “Do we have plain white sugar? ”

She nodded and headed to the cupboard while he grabbed a pan from beside the stove.

Working quietly together in the golden light of the kitchen felt cozy and right. Neither of them said another word, and Jillian watched as he conducted the experiment he prayed would impress her.

As soon as the sugar was melted and browned, he grabbed two of the walls and dipped the edges in the melted sugar, pressing them together afterward.

Sure enough, the sugar hardened almost instantly and fused the two pieces together.

“Oh, wow,” Jillian breathed.

He continued, putting the thing together until it was time for the roof.

“Do you want to try?” he asked her.

She nodded and got to work, dipping the two supporting sides in one by one, and then adding the roof panels when it was done.

“That’s… that’s incredible,” she marveled at the fully constructed house. “Is that like something you learned by building a real house?”

“I saw it on a BeeBop,” he admitted, feeling a little silly.

“A BeeBop?” she echoed, undoubtedly stunned that he was even on the social media app that was mostly dominated by teens and young adults.

“I’ve been following a lot of people with holiday content,” he told her. “I thought it would be nice to start some new traditions next year. When I found a lady making a gingerbread house, I watched all of hers. This is what she did. ”

“I feel like I don’t even know you,” she giggled.

The bright sound sent a waterfall of happiness through his chest and he stared at her, lovestruck.

“I’m only teasing,” she said, misinterpreting his silence. “You’re such a good father, Brad. Josie will never understand how incredibly lucky she is.”

“It’s you,” Brad murmured stupidly, his eyes caught on hers. “You’re everything to her. I can’t believe you’re down here in the middle of the night. I can melt some sugar, but you’re literally holding our house together…”

He gestured vaguely at the little gingerbread house, though that wasn’t really what he meant. Jillian was holding everything together.

Emotion washed over him, and when he turned back to her he could see there were tears in her eyes.

“Jillian,” he breathed, his hand moving to cup her familiar face. “Please don’t cry.”

All these years, he had longed to touch her. Her cheek was warm, and so soft under his rough hand, exactly as he’d imagined. Her eyes moved to his mouth and he felt a pull in his chest like his heart would burst if he didn’t bend to kiss her.

The air between them seemed to shimmer and buzz with magic as he leaned in, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

A sudden eruption of rough barking echoed through the air, and Jillian drew back quickly, her face pink.

“What in the world?” Brad asked, jogging for the living room to see what was wrong.

Moose stood on the sofa, his whole body stiff and quivering as he stared out the window as if the woods around them were full of danger.

Brad joined him on the sofa and had to smile when he saw what had surprised their canine companion. A family of deer stood on the edge of the trees, nosing the snowy lawn for grass. In the silvery moonlight, they almost looked like a painting come to life.

“What is it?” Jillian whispered worriedly.

“Come look,” Brad whispered back, turning back to pat the dog. “It’s okay, boy.”

“Oh, wow,” Jillian murmured, moving closer. “They’re beautiful.”

“Dad?” Josie asked sleepily from the top of the steps. “Jillian?”

“Come on down, Junebug,” Brad told her. “There are deer on the lawn. I guess Moose isn’t used to that.”

“Whoa,” Josie said, scampering down the steps a little faster than Brad would have liked.

She joined him, kneeling on the sofa to look out into the yard, an expression of wonder on her sweet face.

This is why we’re moving here, he reminded himself. We need more of these moments.

He couldn’t help glancing over Josie’s head to where Jillian still stood by the window. Her eyes were on Josie, and she gazed at his daughter with the same joyful wonder Josie wore as she looked out at the deer.

She might actually stay here with us if I asked her to.

But would she stay because she wants to stay, or just because I asked?