18. Red

Growing up, Christmas was an excuse for Dad to day drink without judgment from people. Everyone adds liquor to their coffee on Christmas morning. You're not an alcoholic for doing it—you're festive. Which meant we waited to open presents until he passed out on the couch mid-afternoon. He'd always wake up in time for dinner and more drinks. If his after-dinner drink was spiced rum, we'd watch Christmas movies and drink hot chocolate like a normal family. If it was whiskey, my brothers and I would retreat to our bedrooms for the night.

When I step into the big house, I'm hit with the sound of laughter and the scent of sugar cookies. It's warm and decorated like something out of a Christmas movie, with garland and lights and even fucking mistletoe hung above the living room entryway. A massive live tree—which Jackson, Kate, and the kids went on horseback to cut down—takes up most of the cozy, firelit room.

I stroll down the hallway toward the busy kitchen. Some of the ranch hands live in town with their families, others go to wherever they came from for the holidays. Those of us with nowhere else to be come here. Because I offered to handle feeding the horses this evening, I'm the last one to arrive, which is fine by me. It means less time fielding questions about my relationship with Cass.

Small arms wrap around my hips, and I crouch down to preschooler level. Odessa's wearing a puffy red dress that, unsurprisingly, already has questionable food stains on it. "Hey, chicky. Did Santa spoil you rotten this year or what?"

I'm not a Christmas guy, but I can put on a good show for Odessa and Rhett.

Her palms squish against my cheeks, holding me in place so she can excitedly yell directly into my face. "Santa got me a Barbie with a horse!"

"You sure you deserve all that?" I raise an eyebrow and smile at her. "I could use a new horse. Maybe I'll borrow yours sometime."

"Uncle Red!" Odessa shrieks with laughter, scrunching her nose. "You're too big to ride him. He's for Barbie."

"Well, shoot. Guess we'll send Barbie out to check cows, hey?" I slowly straighten my knees to stand. "I'm starvin'. Let's go see what your mama cooked up."

"Did you bring your girlfriend?" Her question stops me in my tracks. "I want to see the baby."

"Well, the baby's still in her tummy," I say. "You can meet her as soon as she's born, though."

"She's pretty," Odessa states.

"My… girlfriend?" I clarify. Odessa's eyes light up at the word—she's Kate fuckin' junior. "You're right—most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Aside from you, of course." I tousle her hair and send her on her way, finally taking a moment to look at all the other people here.

Ranch hands, the Wells family, Kate's parents, and another older couple who I assume are Cecily's parents. There's not a single empty space on the counter or twelve-foot kitchen table; the girls must've been cooking and baking for days to create this spread. The women of Wells Ranch sure have a way of showing their love with food. The smell of smoked sausage makes my stomach rumble, and I slip in next to Jackson at the large island.

"Hey," he mumbles through a mouthful of food. Before he's done swallowing, he's already reaching for more. "How'd it go out there?"

"All good. Everybody's fed, except me. Looks delicious." I grab a plate and begin piling the food on, taking one of everything within arm's reach. I can't wait to fall into a food coma in a couple hours.

Jackson slides a beer across the counter to me, and I set my plate down to crack it open. Then I guzzle. Not because I'm trying to be the drunk asshole on Christmas. The initial drink always needs to go down fast, like ripping a bandage off, because that's the drink that scares me. I'm aware it's stupid, but the first one feels like it has the potential to be a switch—somehow triggering whether I become an alcoholic like my dad or not. Whether I'm suddenly filled with rage like him or not. That first beer down the hatch takes the worry along with it. Then I'm okay… okay-ish. So I like to get it over with as fast as possible.

"Take it Cass couldn't come?" Jackson asks, bringing his beer bottle to his lips.

"She's with Dave… so, no." In a different world—where I was a different guy—I'm sure Cass and Dave would've just come here. She said they normally eat store-bought appetizers and watch movies, and I saw a tinge of sadness in her pretty blues when I mentioned how the Wells family likes to celebrate. I know she would love every second of being here.

"Next year."

"Next year, what?" Denny suddenly appears on the opposite side of the island. No plate for him—he's struggling to balance a small mound of sausage and cheese in his open palm. His eyes dart between us as he pops a chunk of cheddar into his mouth.

"Cassidy will be here next year." Jackson's tone makes it sound like he has the authority to decide that she'll be here, whether she wants to be or not.

"Is she coming tomorrow for leftover-extravaganza?" Denny asks.

Dubbed "leftover-extravaganza" when we were kids, December twenty-sixth was the day when the Wells family used to celebrate Christmas with the ranch hands. Back before Kate decided we may as well come over to the big house for Christmas Day. Grandpa Wells kept a bonfire going all day, liquor flowed freely, and the Wells's insane amount of leftover food was set out for everyone to devour. We'd toboggan, ride snowmobiles, and roast marshmallows well into the night. The only part of Christmas I've ever truly enjoyed.

"No, she's leaving in the morning to visit Blair in Vancouver."

Denny blinks, and his face blanches like he's seen a ghost. Weird.

"Oh," he finally says, after taking a strangely long pause. "I didn't think she still had friends here. That's… cool." Tipping his beer back, the muscles in his neck work overtime as he gulps. And gulps. And gulps.

Yup. He's being fucking weird.

Saving me from any more of this awkward conversation, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pile food onto my already heaping plate and slide into the seat next to Austin, so I can eat and text my Cass in peace.

Cass: I want you to describe all the food you're eating in graphic detail.

Cass: Erase the cardboard-flavoured mozzarella sticks from my brain forever

Red: You have a food kink or some shit, don't you?

Cass: Nvm I'll text Denny then. He'll help me out

I glance over at Denny, who seems to be acting normal again, competing with Odessa to see who can fit more cheese cubes in their mouth.

Red: Cranberry and brie on some sort of homemade bread. Bite-size and the bread's a bit crunchy.

Cass: Fuck me

Red: Right now? On my way

Cass: Why would I want that when you're talking about cranberries and brie?

Cass: Get it together and tell me what else is there.

Red: You could always come over, you know

Cass:Friends with benefits don't do Christmas together.

Red: Your fave: scalloped potatoes. Also Nanaimo bars, butter tarts, and something Odessa is calling puppy chow?

Cass: Your work here is done. Thank you.

Red: If you touch yourself to these texts, I better get a fucking video

I ate too much last night to properly participate in leftover-extravaganza, but my only other option is to sit around stressing about Cassidy driving to Vancouver. She insisted my offer to drive her was ridiculous, and maybe it was. But I would've happily driven to Vancouver, spent a few days alone—hating every second of being in the city—and driven back home with her. Just so I'd know she was safe.

She didn't want that. So I pull up a folding camp chair next to the fire and sink down. Watching the crackling orange embers, sipping hot cocoa, and relishing the warm sun rays on an otherwise brisk day. Just beyond the fire, Odessa's tugging Rhett around on a small toboggan, running as fast as she can up and down a well-worn footpath. It's a matter of time before he falls face first into the snow but, for now, he's belly-gut laughing at his big sister. Next Christmas, that could be Little Spud. Assuming Jackson's right, and Cassidy is willing to come here.

"Hey, man." Speaking of the devil, Jackson pulls up a seat next to me, holding out a snowflake-shaped shortbread. "Cookie?"

I shake my head. "I ate enough yesterday to get me through to next year."

Cass had wanted descriptions of everything, and who am I to say no? So I ate. Texting her details until well after midnight.

He chuckles. "Fair. I think once you become a dad, you gain the ability to eat more than ever before."

"It's because you eat all the kids' leftovers on top of your own." Kate slips into a chair next to his, propping her feet up on a rock in front of the fire. "Your stomach's used to a bonus snack after every meal."

Jackson pats his stomach. "Well, when a woman cooks as good as you."

I didn't even notice Denny sneak in on the other side of me until he opens his dumb mouth. "Red doesn't need to worry about getting a dad bod, then. He doesn't have a woman cooking for him."

"Good," Kate says, glaring at Denny. "It shouldn't have to be the woman cooking all the time, Denver."

"Jesus. Put more words in my mouth, why don't ya." Denny throws his hands up in surrender. "It's not that only women should cook, I'm just saying he doesn't have a woman, period. He's too scared to make it official."

"Shut the fuck up, Den." I'd love to tell him he's wrong, but he's not. Cassidy's after-sex speech has made it obvious she has no interest in dating. And, as much as it kills me, I can't say I disagree with her logic. We're having a baby together, and a messy break up is the last thing we need. She's hormonal, I've never been in a relationship before—the odds of us lasting are low.

"Red, you just gotta do it." Kate adjusts in her seat, wiggling closer to the hot flames. "It's scary, but if you don't say anything, you run the risk of losing her entirely. Ask Jackson all about that."

Jackson throws her a look, clearly not appreciating being dragged into this.

"I had to tell him to ask me to be his girlfriend," Kate continues. "After their mom passed, he was going to let me leave here and move back in with my parents."

"I was not!" Jackson protests.

"No? That's why the night before I was supposed to leave, I confronted you and asked why the hell you weren't asking me to stay. Sounds to me like you were letting me go."

Jackson grabs her hand and kisses it before placing their clasped hands in his lap. "Nah, I just knew you weren't serious about leaving."

"Okay, but Cassidy isn't going anywhere." I sip the hot cocoa, ready to be done with this discussion. It seems every conversation around the ranch circles back to talking about us.

"She's staying in Wells Canyon, sure." Kate leans forward to look past Jackson, staring me down in a way that says there's no sense arguing. "But there's other men out there. You like her, and I'm pretty confident she feels the same. And you're gonna lose her if you keep fucking around."