Chapter 21

twenty-one

CANDACE

My office was freezing Tuesday morning when I got in. The fact that it was December and five thirteen in the morning probably had something to do with it.

I turned my electric heater to the highest setting and wrapped myself in a blanket I kept on the back of my desk chair. Then I pulled out my trusty notebook and flipped to the page I’d been scribbling on all day yesterday. Things to say to Mark was in bold at the top of the lined sheet. Making a list had helped to order my thoughts after I’d calmed down.

When we’d had our fight on Sunday, I’d been too emotional and reactive to really express myself. It was hard to make a good point when you were shrill and unsteady on the inside and just as shrill and unsteady on the outside. I’d walked away because I knew I wasn’t getting anywhere while the shame I felt just made me more and more defensive. My adrenaline had needed to dissipate and my good sense to return. And I’d needed to stop shouting I loved him mid-rant.

I face-palmed and groaned as I remembered the utter shock on his face at my angry love confession.

A soft knock on the doorframe had my head snapping up.

“I saw the light beneath the door. Thought I’d check on you,” Joan said by way of greeting. She was decked out in her winter running gear. Dark leggings hugged her slim, muscular legs while a quarter-zip pullover covered her top half. She wore a headband over her ears, and her cheeks were already a little pink from the cold.

“Oh, you know,” I hedged.

Joan looked amused. “Just torturing yourself and being miserable?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

She came in, closed the door behind her, and took the narrow uncomfortable seat in front of the desk. “He’ll come around. He knows you didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

My eyes drifted toward my notebook, but I didn’t see the myriad of apologies written there in my hasty scrawl. I only remembered the panic on his face, the total devastation while he’d dragged me away from the Prices. The way his anxiety had increased tenfold when he realized that all eyes were on us and the scene I’d caused.

“I don’t know, Joanie. He has every right not to forgive me.”

“Bullshit,” she said without heat. “That Price girl deserved everything you said and more. I’ve had to watch people give him a hard time for years. Bitten my tongue while people like Eloise Carter made him feel less than, treated him like some deadbeat who doesn’t pay child support instead of the damn saint he is.”

My eyes lifted at the realization. “That day at the Orchard Festival?”

My sister nodded. “She was running her mouth, and Mercer did what he always does. Turned the other cheek. That hypocrite preacher must have instilled more than Mercer ever realized.”

My heart ached at the memory. Mark had told me there was nothing romantic between him and Joan when I’d accidentally spied their tender moment in the tent. Now I was grateful for the comfort she’d offered him in the face of needless cruelty.

I tugged the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Yeah, but that’s just Mark. And I did the exact opposite.”

I’d attacked Hannah. Not that she was innocent, but the only thing she’d done to provoke my ire was breathe in my vicinity .

But I’d had months of knowing the truth. I’d kept my feelings to myself. Mark didn’t want to discuss his decisions, and he didn’t want to hear my opinion on Hannah and her childish manipulation. It became harder and harder to watch him hide himself away, and me along with him, as a result.

“I shouldn’t have inserted myself into his business,” I added. “A confrontation is the last thing Mark ever wanted.”

But something bitter and vindictive had claimed me that day. When I’d seen Hannah standing there, looking so inconvenienced by Mark’s very existence, I’d wanted payback. And then her father had swooped in with his self-righteous crap. I’d just snapped.

I’d imagined that scene a dozen times in my head. A phantom battle that played out in my imagination. So it hadn’t been difficult to call up the words, the accusations, the truth. But in the process of calling Hannah out on her shitty behavior, I’d put aside Mark’s feelings, and I’d broken his word by breaking mine. He’d told me the truth about his marriage in confidence. Not as ammunition to be used against him.

“Maybe so,” Joan admitted. “But you are his business, Candace. His life affects yours. You’re in a relationship now. You’re teammates. And I know what it’s like to watch people hurt themselves at the expense of others. He would have taken Hannah’s secret to his grave and suffered every day for it. Honor and devotion are admirable traits when the people you’re sacrificing for deserve it. I know you were just trying to protect him, and, deep down, Mercer knows it too.”

“I hope so,” I said, my voice watery.

“You want to go on my run with me? Might help clear your head? At the very least you wouldn’t be stuck in this freezing office with that creepy-as-hell fish on the wall.”

I frowned. “Don’t talk about Lance Bass that way.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling.

“I think I’ll skip the run today,” I finally answered. “But maybe tomorrow?” I figured I’d be up anyway. It wasn’t like I was sleeping well with all that was weighing on my mind.

My sister nodded and stood. “Okay. I’ll text you. ”

I smiled, grateful for the effort Joan was making. “Sounds good.”

“And don’t beat yourself up too much, Candy Cane. Mercer will come around.”

I sure hoped so.

For the next hour, I busied myself by researching the lavender field I wanted to grow in the rear acreage on the farm. It was almost seven when there came another knock at my office door.

A moment later, Mark stuck his head in.

“Hi,” I said quickly, hopping to my feet on instinct as my temperamental desk chair squeaked in protest. My blanket fell away from my shoulders and landed somewhere behind me, but I was too focused on the man before me to care.

“Hey,” he said softly, closing the door behind him.

He stood there, just inside the threshold, watching me for a moment. And I used the time to drink him in in return. He wore a tan work jacket open over a cozy-looking flannel. Mark looked solemn, as always, but there was something cautious in his gaze. He was being careful with me, and I hated it.

It had only been a day and a half since our fight, but the distance between us felt bigger than that. It was like I’d dug a trench with what I’d done. Mark on one side and me on the other.

I could only imagine what he saw, looking at me like that. Messy bun on top of my head and dark circles beneath my eyes. Worry consuming me as I nibbled nervously on my bottom lip.

Finally, when I couldn’t take the silence anymore, I blurted, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mark. You were right. It wasn’t my secret to tell and I broke your trust. It was wrong of me to think I knew best when it was your life I was talking about. I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I wanted you to know that I’m sorry for hurting you.” I’d started crying about halfway through my apology, and by the end, I could hardly get the words out.

Mark closed the distance between us and cupped my cheeks in his hands. Using his thumbs, he attempted to wipe away the tears that were falling. Finally, he pulled me against his chest and rubbed my back. “Shhh, Candace. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” I mumbled into the soft fabric of his hunter-green flannel .

I felt him inhale and exhale a huge breath before resting his chin atop my head. “I’ve never had someone stand up for me like that before. Yes, your family has always been good to me. Treated me like one of their own despite all the rumors and gossip. But I’ve never had someone who was all mine. A person who’d stand between me and the rest of the damn world. Someone who’d put me first, no questions asked. I didn’t know what to do with that kind of love, Candace. I didn’t know how to deserve it.”

It broke my heart to hear how alone Mark felt all his life. Raised by an aunt who didn’t appreciate the gift she’d been given. One who, instead, acted like she’d been saddled with her sister’s kid. And to be taken in by a family who manipulated and took advantage of him, followed by years of self-imposed isolation.

I was lucky to have a loving family. Parents and siblings who would drop whatever they were doing to help me. But my family didn’t just love me in the big ways. They loved me in the quiet ways too. The ones that made late-night grocery store runs when I was on my period, and sewed buttons back onto my sweaters before school the next day. The money found and freely given for school trips and college applications and anything I needed to help me succeed.

I’d had a lifetime of love, and Mark had missed out on all of it.

I felt my chin wobble, but I made myself pull back to see his face. “You do deserve it. You deserve every good thing.”

His hands slid down to my waist, his thumbs passing over the fabric of my shirt the same way they’d collected tears on my cheeks.

Mark’s lips tilted up in a soft smile—the one I loved so much—and he said matter-of-factly, “Well, if that’s true, then the only thing I want to deserve is you. I want your sweetness and light. I want to work beside you on the farm. I want your cold feet in my bed and your shampoo in my shower. I want a home and a family with you someday. I want to love you for the rest of my life, Candace. I’m sorry for Sunday when I couldn’t say it back. I couldn’t hear it over my own fears.”

I shook my head as happiness at Mark’s words fought with the shame I felt over my earlier admission. “I never should have told you like that. But it was true then, and it’s true now. I love you. So, so much. ”

He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips that spoke of forgiveness and understanding. Then he whispered against my skin, “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

I returned his kiss with one of gratitude and joy. “I can’t wait.”

We sold the last Christmas tree off the lot at Judd’s on December 23. Well, the last one to a customer. I didn’t count the seven-foot tree that was currently in the back of Mark’s pickup truck.

We were closing down the orchard for the season and then setting up the tree in Mark’s living room to decorate that night while Die Hard played in the background.

We’d been ornament shopping earlier in the week, and I’d picked out the tree skirt while Mark selected the multicolored lights.

I wanted to make some new memories with Mark for the holidays, come up with traditions of our own.

Tomorrow would be the second annual Christmas Eve celebration over at Lonely Mountain Winery. Reggie and Aurora had invited friends, neighbors, and local business owners for an evening of wine and appetizers, potluck style. Mark and I were bringing his favorite nacho cheese dip. I couldn’t wait to see the decorations at the vineyard. It would be a chance to dress up a little and eat my weight in cocktail shrimp. I’d also heard there would be a string quartet and dancing on the heated patio. Swaying in Mark’s arms to instrumental covers of Taylor Swift’s songs sounded like the perfect night.

Next on the list of holiday festivities was brunch at the farmhouse on Christmas Day. Mark had joined my family for the last two Christmases, but it would be my first holiday brunch on the farm in a long time.

“Do you want your present early?” Mark asked.

Running my fingers through his soft, dark blond hair, I glanced away from the blinking lights of the Christmas tree and down to Mark, his head resting in my lap. “That would be cheating. Christmas isn’t for two more days.”

He suppressed a smile. “But no one would have to know. You could just open it early. ”

I bent down and pressed a quick peck to his waiting lips. “No, thank you. I’ll wait until Christmas Day.”

He groaned, “Such a good girl.”

“That’s right,” I teased, liking the way that sounded a little too much.

Then Mark tugged me down again. The kiss was longer this time. He threaded his fingers through my hair and cupped the back of my neck. I shivered at his touch.

Eventually, he flipped our positions. I was lying on my back while he hovered over me. I squirmed as his strong thighs bracketed my hips, relishing every point of contact and how very secure I felt.

Our mugs of hot chocolate were long forgotten on the coffee table as we touched and tasted. The television screen was black, and the bright lights from the Christmas tree cast the room in a magical, twinkling glow.

“Do you want me to give you your present early?” I gasped out as Mark’s lips traced a line from my sternum to my belly button.

“Yes,” he murmured, the word slurred against my skin. “Always.”

I arched my back, eager for his touch. “So impatient,” I teased.

“I’ll show you impatient.”

Then he placed a gentle bite against my ribs that had me grinning.

I spent the next hour wishing I hadn’t been so determined to wait.

When we were once again snuggled beneath the lights of the Christmas tree, wrapped up in nothing but a blanket and each other, I couldn’t help but think I was right where I belonged. A perfect alignment of past and present while the fates looked on in amusement.

I had my family and the farm. A place I loved and a community I called home. And I had a man to share it all with. Someone who’d stand between me and the world, and lend me his sweatshirt if I needed it.

I smiled at the thought and placed a kiss on his shoulder, tasting his salt and his heat and his strength. And feeling beyond grateful for second chances and small towns .

There had been a time when coming back to Kirby Falls had seemed impossible—worse than impossible, it had seemed like failure. I’d held on to a dream with both fists without ever noticing that it had changed shape in my clutching hands.

But somehow I knew that Mark and I would keep growing and encouraging one another. We’d keep loving and forgiving, all the while being grateful for the chance to do it all together. Our dreams would take shape, and we’d give them room to grow. I didn’t know what the future held, but as I squeezed Mark’s hand and snuggled closer to his side, I knew I wouldn’t have to face it alone.

The following week, we decided to spend New Year’s Eve at Firefly with our friends.

It was cold, but the night was clear and bright. The fire pits were lit, and the outdoor heaters were cranked up to high on the back porch. A band played and folks congregated at picnic tables and children ran through the winter grass.

It was still pretty early though. Three hours until midnight.

As I made my way toward our group around the fire pit, I carefully balanced the two ciders I held in my hands.

I could see Mark standing among the others, arms crossed, navy-blue toboggan covering his short hair. The orange flames from the fire highlighted him like my own personal bearded beacon. Suddenly he laughed at whatever Brady said, and I was grateful for my idiot brother putting Mark at ease.

We didn’t hide anymore. Our relationship was out in the open, but we still liked our quiet moments at home—one we shared. I knew Mark had some things to work through. It took time to change years of learned behavior. He’d talked about speaking to a therapist, and I supported him wholeheartedly. I thought there was a lot of trauma surrounding Hannah and Lyndsey that he needed to acknowledge, and seeking a professional would probably be the best way to go about that.

My eyes scanned the rest of our group. Joan was sitting down, having a quiet conversation with Laramie. Will Clark and his girlfriend, Becca, were snuggled up on an Adirondack chair while Becca chatted with Chloe. Her boyfriend, Jordan, went back and forth between us and his staff to make sure everything was running smoothly at Firefly tonight.

Bonnie and her husband were listening in on whatever story Brady told, but their body language was a little stiff. A familiar tension took hold when I thought about my friend. I didn’t know what was going on in her marriage, but I knew she didn’t want to talk about it. Whenever I brought up her husband or things at home, she blew me off—pretended that everything was just fine. So I did my best to make myself available—a safe space for whatever she needed, whenever she was ready for it.

Before I could stare a hole through Danny Jensen’s head, a little boy darted in front of me, causing me to pull up short. Hard cider sloshed over the rim of one of the glasses I held, but I grinned down at the little rascal. He beamed back with two front teeth missing, like he knew he was cute.

“Tommy, apologize,” came a stern voice from beyond the boy.

I swallowed and looked toward the table where the voice originated, knowing who I’d find when I looked up.

“Sorry,” he said sweetly and then went to join his mother at a huge picnic table filled with adults and children.

I met Lauren Walker’s steady gaze as she said, “Sorry, he’s a handful.”

“No worries,” I told Lo. Then I gave my former best friend a nod and went on my way.

I didn’t let the shock of seeing her ruin my night. I thought I’d finally made my peace. Saying goodbye the summer after graduation might not have been on my own terms, but it was now. I was staying in Kirby Falls. I had to be okay with seeing visions from my past. That didn’t mean I had to relive them.

Run-ins with Lo would be inevitable, but I’d survive. I refused to let all my good memories of our friendship be tainted by the abrupt end of it. Lo could forget me all she wanted. I would remember, and then I’d move on...the way Mark was moving on.

He’d told me about the visit he’d received from Reverend Price. How it hadn’t been enough, but it had given Mark the closure he needed .

Our pasts were like that sometimes. It was easier to close a door and lock it without having to wonder if it would ever open again. Keeping it cracked left plenty of room for disappointment.

When I reached my friends, Mark accepted his drink and slid a hand around my waist. A warm whisper against the shell of my ear asked, “You okay?”

Because of course, he’d noticed.

Staying close, I nodded. The scruff of his beard tickled my cheek. “I’m good.”

We spent the next few hours drinking and laughing as the groups with kids slowly trickled out.

Eventually, Mark and I ended up in the grassy area in front of the stage while the band belted out a pretty solid rendition of “Faithfully” by Journey. The song ended and the singer announced a time check. One minute until midnight.

Even though we’d stopped dancing, I still had my arms around Mark’s neck while he held me close.

“Sooooo,” I said.

His lips curled. “What?”

I did my best to look coy. “Since we’re here at Firefly, I wondered, are you going to kiss me when the clock strikes midnight? Or were you thinking about dodging my lips and running away again?”

Mark gave me an amused glare. “Cute.”

I grinned.

Before I had the chance to tease him further about our parking lot miss from a few months ago, he leaned in deliberately and captured my lips with his.

I had planned on telling him I thought it turned out just fine, but then I stopped thinking altogether. Vaguely I heard the sounds of the countdown all around us. But, for once, I didn’t care about breaking the rules.

This was right where I belonged.

Our first book club meeting was happening over at Chloe and Jordan’s house. It was technically Becca’s book club, but she lived on the side of a mountain, and with the slight chance of snow in the January forecast, none of us wanted to risk it.

I’d just grabbed a plate of snacks and joined everyone in the living room when Chloe welcomed a late arrival.

I breathed a sigh of relief when my sister slipped her shoes off and passed Chloe her puffy black jacket to hang up.

With all the people, the chatting, and the extroverting, I knew this wasn’t really Joan’s thing. But one afternoon a few weeks back, she’d stopped by my office and seen a book on my desk. It turned out Joan was a big reader. I couldn’t ever remember her toting around worn paperbacks on the farm or at the dinner table, but we’d talked for half an hour about my book club’s latest selection. Then I’d invited her to join us.

And until right this minute, I hadn’t been sure she’d show up.

But she murmured quiet hellos to all the ladies present and then took the seat beside me on the sofa.

“Hey,” I said and held out my plate.

“Hey,” she replied and snagged a party meatball on a toothpick.

The discussion was a good one. I’d been in book clubs before where people didn’t read the book or they were too uppity to select romance titles for their monthly picks. But this event was nothing like others I’d attended in the past.

Becca came prepared with discussion questions, and everyone joined in and shared their opinions. Mac and Laramie got into it a little bit over the hero’s domineering tendencies. But the rest of us sided with Larry in thinking Rhys Winterborne was elite-level book boyfriend material.

My sister mostly listened from where she sat at my side, but I heard her quiet laugh a time or two and felt buoyed by it. I was grateful that she was making the effort. Ever since the Parade Float Fight of 2023—as Brady referred to it—we’d been much more honest with one another. I still had moments of big-sister hero worship and she still made fun of my wall-mounted bass, but our relationship was real in a way it never had been .

My life was totally different now than it was six months ago. My five-year plan was blown completely out of the water. But I liked the way it looked from this side. The pieces sparkled like floating confetti—like strings of twinkle lights on a North Carolina night or a blanket of stars in the black velvet sky.

I had more than I ever thought I deserved and a farmer waiting for me at home.