Chapter Eight

Mason

The ranch-style house, bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights, was alive with the sounds of holiday cheer as I stepped inside. Uncle Frank's and Aunt Carol's home hadn't changed much over the years. Decked out in the same festive garlands and holly that had adorned its walls since childhood, each room was a testament to the countless Christmases my sisters, brother and I had spent there since we moved in with them after our parents died.

I moved through the familiar spaces, the scent of pine and cinnamon evoking memories of Christmases past. My old bedroom, once a sanctuary of teenage dreams and late-night whispers, now housed Aunt Carol's craft supplies, spools of yarn and fabrics stacked neatly on shelves where posters of rock bands used to hang.

Sophie and Adeline were curled up on the familiar worn couch, laughter spilling from their lips as they shared stories of high school dramas and college exams. Adeline's textbooks for her Early Childhood Ed classes were splayed open on the coffee table, colorful sticky notes peeking out from the pages. Sophie, her eyes bright with excitement, was in the middle of recounting her latest escapade with the drama club. Her hands gestured wildly in the air as they usually did when she was talking. She was the baby of the family and had a flair for the dramatic.

Max was sprawled in the armchair, his lanky frame almost too big for it now, thumbing through a car magazine with a half-interested gaze. He was growing up fast, and I could see traces of the man he would soon become.

"Everything okay, Mason?" Adeline asked, catching my distant look. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Sorry, Merry Christmas," I said, walking over to her and giving her a quick hug, trying to tuck away the thoughts that had been gnawing at me all morning.

"Morning, champ," Uncle Frank grunted as he entered the room, his large frame filling the doorway. His eyes were soft though, a contrast to the booming voice that followed. "Merry Christmas to ya. You fix that Henderson carburetor yet?"

"Going to tackle it first thing tomorrow," I replied, matching his tone with my own steady assurance. It was our routine, talking shop even amidst the holiday cheer.

"Good man," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder with a warmth that belied his gruff exterior.

"Merry Christmas, Mason!" said Aunt Carol, bustling into the room with a tray of peppermint bark. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before setting the tray beside the other serving dishes on the buffet and wiping her hands on a red apron sprinkled with either flour or powdered sugar, I couldn't tell.

"Now that we're all here, I believe it's time to open presents!"

"And eat," said Max, rising and walking over to the buffet with a big grin on his face. Uncle Frank chuckled. "You got that right, boy. I think your aunt and Adeline have been in that kitchen for a week straight cooking all sorts of scrumptious dishes."

Adeline smiled. "Christmas food is so much fun to make."

Aunt Carol took a seat in her favorite rocking chair by the fireplace and reached for her knitting in the basket at her feet. "And there will be plenty of leftovers."

"Let's get this party started, then!" cried Sophie.

As the hours ticked by, surrounded by the people who made this house a home, I still couldn't shake the turmoil inside me. The memory of Juniper's face, the sound of Troy's voice weaving through the crowded party at Candi Couture last night—it all played on a loop in my mind.

I kept glancing at my phone, half-expecting, half-dreading a message from her. Maybe she was thinking of me too, or maybe she was wrapped up in the embrace of family...or Troy's arms. That thought sent a chill down my spine despite the warmth of the crackling fireplace.

"Earth to Mason," Max chimed in, his teasing voice pulling me back to the present. "You've checked your phone more times than I've checked out my new gaming console."

"Sorry, just..." I trailed off, unsure how much of the truth I wanted to reveal.

"Waiting on a call from a certain someone?" Adeline prodded gently, her knowing gaze making me shift uncomfortably.

"Something like that," I murmured, pocketing my phone. I wasn't ready to pour out my heart, not when it felt like it was trapped in a vice.

This house, with its walls decked in nostalgic décor—the same angelic figurines, the stockings hung with care, and the tree shimmering in the corner—it all reminded me of what mattered most. Family, love, taking risks for those you care about. I was a man now, with my own home. It just needed people in it.

"Alright, what's this one?" Max said with a teasing grin, breaking me out of my reverie as he unwrapped one of the ornaments I had hand-painted alongside Juniper. It was a clumsy depiction of two figures next to a lopsided snowman, more blobs of color than anything else.

"Uh, is that supposed to be a snowman?" Max laughed heartily, holding up the ornament for closer scrutiny. "It looks more like the Pillsbury Dough Boy."

"Har har," I replied, cracking a smile despite myself. "Let's see you do better. I can't paint like Aunt Carol or Juniper McCall, but I gave it my best shot."

Aunt Carol laughed from her seat, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

"Speaking of Juniper," Adeline chimed in, perceptive as always, "what's going on with you two? I heard she's back in town and you guys have been spending a lot of time together lately."

I felt my cheeks warm slightly at the mention of her name. "It's, uh, complicated," I hedged, not quite ready to delve into those choppy waters.

"Juniper is such a sweet girl," Aunt Carol interjected, her knitting needles clicking. Her expression softened. "It's a shame she left Springfield."

I nodded. "Yeah, she's...she's great." My voice trailed off as I fumbled with a napkin, attempting to seem nonchalant.

"Great? That's all you've got?" Sophie teased from across the room, a smirk playing on her lips. "Come on, Mason, spill it. We're family."

"Maybe later," I managed, my mind racing with thoughts of Juniper, of last night, and of the uncertain future that lay ahead.

I grabbed another cookie from the platter, fingers grazing the familiar floral patterns of the ceramic. The sugar rush was a poor substitute for the buzz of anxiety coursing through me.

"Seriously, Mason, you're dodging like a pro here," Sophie pressed, her brows knitting together in that way that meant she wasn't letting this go.

"Can't a guy enjoy his Christmas cookies in peace?" I shot back with a half-hearted grin, hoping to deflect the interrogation with humor. My aunt and siblings watched me, their eyes expectant, but my mind was anywhere but that cozy ranch-style living room.

"Don't push him," said Uncle Frank, dredging a pig-in-a-blanket through a bowl of honey before popping the whole thing into his mouth at once.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Did Juniper notice when I'd left last night? Or was she too caught up with Troy, with whatever sweet nothings he decided to spill after years of taking her for granted? And now, radio silence. Not a single message from her since I stormed off, though it was Christmas, and she had her family. I ran my hand through my hair in frustration.

"Well, if you're planning on brooding the whole day, at least pass the peppermint bark," said Sophie.

"Sorry," I mumbled, sliding the plate toward her, my attempt at normalcy as brittle as the candy canes crushed atop the white chocolate slabs.

"Christmas isn't over yet," Aunt Carol murmured. "Who knows what the day will bring?"

She meant well, but her comforting words were a double-edged sword, slicing open the possibility I was trying to ignore. What if the day brought Juniper back into Troy's arms?

"Guess we'll see," I replied, forcing a smile. But as I glanced at the craft room, once my refuge, I knew I couldn't leave things to chance. Not when it came to Juniper. I nodded as my resolve strengthened. It was Christmas, the season of miracles, of reaching out and holding tight to what you cherish. And I cherished Juniper. More than I'd ever admitted to myself.

"Actually, there's something I need to do," I said, standing up with sudden determination. A plan began to form, risky and bold, but it was time to be fearless.

"Go get 'em, tiger," Uncle Frank grinned, recognizing the fire in my eyes.

"Thanks," I returned the grin, feeling a sense of kinship in their support. As I stepped out into the chilly December air, I knew I was ready to fight for a chance at love. After all, what better day than Christmas to take a leap of faith?

The cold air nipped at my cheeks as I paced across the porch, the wood creaking beneath my boots, as I began to hatch my plan. I'd left the party last night with a hollow feeling, one that had everything to do with fear—a fear of rejection that was as old and as deep as the scars of losing my parents. It was easier to walk away than to face the possibility that Juniper might still want Troy, that what we shared could evaporate like steam off hot cocoa. This wasn't just about protecting myself anymore. Juniper—she wasn't some temporary distraction, a way to forget the short days and long, lonely nights of winter. No, she was the blaze in the hearth, the laughter in the silence, the dream I'd clung to through every season since I knew what it meant to want someone.

"Always her," I said aloud, a confession to the barren trees and the cloud-covered sky. "It's always been her."

Juniper, with her wild curls and those green eyes that seemed to peer right into the heart of me, had slipped through my defenses without even trying, as usual. Our affair, if that's what you could call the outpouring of years of suppressed longing, hadn't been planned or expected. It was as natural as the snowflakes that clung to her eyelashes at the market, each kiss, each touch a crystalline memory etched into my skin.

If she went back to Troy, it wouldn't just break me—it would shatter something fundamental. And if she returned to Baltimore, leaving behind the small-town charm of Springfield, I'd be as empty as the fields in January.

"Long-distance," I whispered, the words a vow against the vast Illinois sky. "I can do that. If it means having Juniper, I'm willing to do anything."

But first, I needed her to know the truth. Not just the heat of passion or the thrill of stolen moments, but the depth of what pulsed between us, steady and sure as a heartbeat. She deserved that much, even if it meant baring my soul with the risk of it being turned away.

"Time to stop running, Mason," I told myself, shoulders squaring against the weight of what I was about to do. Inside, the laughter and chatter of my family filtered through the windows, a reminder of all the love I'd known and all I stood to lose.

"Come on," I urged myself. "Let's give this Christmas a happy ending."

With a deep breath to steady my nerves, I pulled out my phone, ready to fight for the future I wanted—a future with Juniper McCall.