Page 53 of Christmas Treasures

When they pulled apart, they were both smiling.

Bianca, apparently, had been watching them and now clapped her hands. “Kisses.” They hadnotworked on that word, but apparently she knew it already.

Charlie laughed, her cheeks coloring in the glow of the tree. “Her English is improving by leaps and bounds.”

Max laughed, then noticed his brother and Abby werestaring at them, a mixture of surprise and hurt in their eyes. This is what happened when one Hayes didn’t tell any of the other Hayeses about his love life.

Max raised an eyebrow, nodding toward his brother. Which meant, “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Luke nodded back, in the language of brothers.

The next morning,he couldn’t stop smiling as he moved around the kitchen. His fingers tapped a happy rhythm against the countertop while he watched pancake batter bubble and transform on the hot skillet, the sweet scent blending with the salty crackle of bacon that popped and sizzled. Every sensation felt heightened after last night. The memory of Charlie’s lips against his still tingled on his skin, making his chest expand with something that felt dangerously like love. He was certain Charlie was ready to embrace Christmas. She seemed ready to let the holiday light pierce whatever darkness had kept her from celebrating all these years. It was time for her to have a tree. And he and Bianca would be the ones to bring it to her.

Outside, a gentle snow had fallen overnight, transforming their little corner of the world. Delicate crystals caught the morning light. The world looked clean, fresh, reborn. As sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, he pitched the idea to Bianca. Her dark eyes sparkled, a smile spreading across her face as she nodded enthusiastically, maple syrup glistening on her bottom lip.

At the tree farm that afternoon, Bianca moved with purpose, her small body darting between the trees until she stopped abruptly, clasping her hands together. “Yes, this.” She pressed a mittened hand to the branch as if she greeted an old friend.

He had no doubt this would mean something to Charlie, especially because Bianca had picked it just for her.

A half hour later, they carried the tree to the porch together. Max’s stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation. For just a split second, he worried it was a mistake. But no. She was ready. Shewantedto be ready, because it would make Bianca happy.

Charlie opened the door after a moment, warmth and the scent of something baking wafting out from behind her. Her sweater sleeves were pushed up revealing her slender forearms, tendrils of hair escaping the clip that held it back.

“Hey.” Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the tree. “What is this?”

“Merry almost Christmas,” Max said, the words coming out husky and tender. “Bianca chose it just for you.”

She stepped out onto the porch, staring at the tree as if it were an unwelcome guest. “No.”

Max blinked, the smile frozen on his face. “No?”

Her voice was firmer this time, edged with something that might have been panic. “You can’t just—bring a tree to my house.” Each word seemed to cost her, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the doorframe.

Bianca looked up at her, confusion clouding her expression, her small shoulders drawing inward against a chill that had nothing to do with the snow. “But it’s for you. It’s Christmas. The tree knew it was for you.” She spoke in Italian, her voice small now, uncertain.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Charlie’s eyes locked on Max, pupils dilated. “I told you. I don’t do this. I can’t. Take it away.” She stopped short, as if swallowing the rest of the sentence, her throat working visibly.

“It’s just a tree.” Max spoke softly, his voice gentle as if talking to a spooked animal.

“No, it’s not.” Charlie’s words snapped like an iciclefalling from an eave. “It is you forcing me to do something I don’t want to do. And I can’t have that.”

Max felt the warmth drain from his body, leaving him hollow. The cold seemed to penetrate deeper now, settling into his bones. “Charlie?—”

“Take it away. Please.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Bianca let go of his coat, her fingers uncurling slowly as if releasing something precious. She stepped back toward the steps of the porch, eyes like saucers, reflecting the hurt and confusion Max felt radiating through his own chest.

“Please,” Charlie said, her voice breaking now, a tremor in her lower lip that she bit down on hard. “Leave. Now.”

Max stood there, snow melting on his shoulders and dampening his collar, the tree between them like some quiet line that couldn’t be crossed. The scent of pine suddenly seemed cloying, accusatory.

After a moment, he nodded, the motion stiff, mechanical.

He picked up the tree, sap sticking to his gloves. “You got it.”

Charlie stepped back inside and slammed the door on them, the sound reverberating in his chest like a physical pain.

Max didn’t speak as he loaded the tree back into the truck bed. Each breath of winter air burned his lungs.

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