Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Brooke

It felt a little weird to be going to see family fifteen minutes after I had Nicole on her knees in front of me—especially since I was seeing her family too—but riding in the passenger seat of her car made it hard to think about anything other than how perfect she looked in profile, hair tugged up into a messy bun. I heard my own voice come on through the speakers the moment she started the car, and she laughed, turning up my version of Silent Night as we pulled out of the Carstons’ driveway, and I just sank back in my seat shaking my head.

“Fine, we’re listening to me sing,” I said.

“You’re a good singer. So sue me.”

“I’m starting to think you might be a little obsessed with me, Nicole Livingston.”

“What was your first clue?” she hummed, pulling out onto the big country road overlooking the valley, all the streets quiet right now. After a minute of driving, she said, “So… what’s happening?”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she meant. But I loved her scrunched-up expression when I was deliberately obtuse, so I said, “Looks like we’re driving. And listening to this godawful album.”

“Oh my god, I am dying of laughter, you are so funny, you cheeky little thing,” she said.

“Please don’t die while driving. We already almost fell off the mountain driving once. I don’t need to try my luck twice.”

“What’s happening with you? Are you coming back to Mountain Crossing after all?”

I looked away, watching the valley roll by below. “I don’t think my producer is going to like that new song you’ve been helping me with,” I said. “Might have to try making an indie record after all.”

She broke out into a big smile, glancing over at me. “Brooke,” she said. “You’re kidding.”

“Why on earth not? I can’t stand all the meetings, the publicity events, the producer breathing down my neck… I’ve got an agent practically living with me, she’s stuck to my side so much. That’s not what I got into this profession for. I want to make music. I can always go back, pick up my career where I left off if I change my mind. And I’ve got money. I can stay with my family… even if they’re noisy.”

She pursed her lips, gripping the steering wheel tightly, eyes fixed straight ahead on the road. “I… have a quiet place you could stay, if you preferred.”

I blinked fast. “Are you… asking me to move in with you? Before we’ve even officially labeled this as a relationship?”

Something snapped on her expression, and she pulled over onto the side of the road, stopping where the trees parted to give a view over the valley, snow drifting down now in a gentle snowfall. She put the car in park, turned to me, took a deep breath, and her eyes were golden fire when she met mine. “Brooke Louisa Carston, I’ve been in love with you from the very earliest days I can remember. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you, not as long as I live. Will you be my girlfriend?”

I’d always thought when moments like this came, they were momentous—scary, nerve-wracking. That they were like major career decisions, where you’d agonize over the right choice, it would change your life trajectory forever, and you’d wonder if you made the right choice.

But Nicole Livingston, looking at me from across the car like she did when we were sixteen and we’d drive off into the deep solitude of the mountain for her to lie there by my side among the flowers and talk while I played the guitar—those same eyes as ever looking at me as she asked me to be her girlfriend, it wasn’t like stepping out into the unknown, like making a great big choice and having it change my life trajectory forever.

It wasn’t like setting out on a voyage. It was getting home from one, coming back to the place that was always right, and just returning right to the life trajectory that had always been waiting.

“Of course,” I said, turning towards her, putting my hand on hers on the center console. “I love you, too, Nicole. Always have. And I think Mountain Crossing’s been a bit too peaceful without our little duo here to cause some havoc.”

Her eyes misted up, pursing her lips through that beautiful, blossoming smile again. “We’re going to make such a beautiful mess, Brooke.”

She leaned across the center console, pulling me into a kiss, and I held her by the back of the head, my fingers slipping into her hair while the snow drifted down around us and the sound of that song, Silent Night, played through the car—that song immortalizing a single, powerful moment that everything began from.

∞∞∞

“So sorry to keep everyone waiting,” I called, walking in through the front door hand-in-hand with Nicole, back into the Livingston entrance hall, where The Christmas Song played through the building and the smell of hot chocolate met me. My heart pounded, but I’d never felt more at ease with anything before. “We’re home!”

A clatter came from the next room, a dozen voices all at once, and my dad was the first to come barreling through the door, wearing that same ugly sweater he’d been wearing the day I showed back up in Mountain Crossing. “Well, I’ll be,” he laughed, looking between the two of us before his gaze settled back on me. “It’s a celebrity encounter, right here in our little town.”

“Hilarious, Dad,” I said, as the rest of the Carstons and the Livingstons filed into the room with us.

“Oh, baby,” Mrs. Livingston said, pushing to the front of the crowd filling the entry hallway around us, crackling firelight dancing over her loose ringlets. “Welcome home, sweetheart. You too, Brooke. Merry Christmas to you both.”

“I’m really sorry for holding everyone up,” I said, keenly aware of how many people’s gazes were slowly drifting down to where Nicole and I were still holding hands. “Did you all have fun opening gifts?”

“Sweetie,” my mom said, stepping up next to my dad and putting a hand on his shoulder, giving me an odd smile, “did you think we’d start without you?”

I furrowed my brow. “I was gone for—”

“I told you, time’s happy to wait around a bit in Mountain Crossing,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better now. You look much happier.”

“I gave some of these rowdy folks a stern word or two about noise levels, too,” Dad said, gesturing around the room. “Didn’t mean to give you any sensory issues, Brooke.”

“You didn’t have to—”

It was Nicole who cut in by squeezing my hand and saying, “We know, Brooke. But we want to make this community one that welcomes you.” She turned to meet my eyes, beaming. “Everyone here loves you. No matter how much trouble we cause them all.”

I laughed, once, breathlessly. But I didn’t get a word in before Ella’s little voice called out and said, “Oh my god, are you two oblivious or what?”

Nicole figured it out first, glancing up. I suppressed a groan. I wondered if it was my mom or Nicole’s who thought of it, but sure enough, there it was, hanging over us—a big, stately bough of mistletoe, which definitely hadn’t been there when I’d left. Nicole laughed, but I just sighed.

“Which one of our moms—” she started, but I just shrugged, turning to her and taking both her hands in mine.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Nicole,” I said, and before anyone else could say a word, I pulled her into me, capturing her in a long, slow kiss. The crowd broke out into equal parts cheers and awws, along with groans from a couple of the Carston grandkids, but all I could feel right now was Nicole holding onto me and kissing me like we were the only two people in the world.

When we parted, standing there with our foreheads together, gazing into her eyes, I caught a sight of Mrs. Livingston out of the corner of my eye pouring a glass of Moscato while she raised it high. “Here’s to my new daughter-in-law!” she called, and I sighed.

“Hasty around here, aren’t we,” I said.

“Here’s to my new daughter-in-law!” my mom called back, and the room dissolved into chatter and chaos, someone switching out the music for that unbearable All I Want For Christmas Is You song as everyone broke out into drinks and dancing.

“Oh, let them,” Nicole laughed, putting her hands on my hips. “It’s what parents do. Better get used to it.”

“Trust me, with how much mine’s been doing it, it took me about two seconds to get used to it,” I said, as she pulled me along with her into a dance. “Oh—watch my butt, if we’re dancing.”

“I’m not fondling your butt in front of all our parents,” she said. “That’s beyond even my scope.”

The rest of the afternoon went by in a whirlwind, gathering around the Christmas tree as gifts went around. Nicole and I sat without an inch apart practically in the center of it all, everyone taking turns to come by and tell us just how happy they were we were finally together and what a Christmas miracle it was and how many kids they thought we should have, but I was too deep in the bliss of just sitting there holding Nicole’s hand through all of it to even care.

One after another, we watched family open gifts from each of us, and my heart glowed as they all laughed and thanked us—the both of us, together, the way we always had been, the way we always would be.

Me and Nicole, together.

I snuck a glance out the window, where the snow was picking up, and I sent a silent thank you out to the rolling sceneries of Mountain Crossing that had brought me back to her.