Page 67 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
It was the truth she’d had to accept a long time ago. One she’d fought. One she’d thought maybe she could overcome. But the truth remained.
Bronte Parker would always be alone. On the outskirts. Even when people invited her in, they’d find a way eventually to replace her. It’d happened to her too many times over her life.
It was better for her—better forhim—if she removed herself now.
While Jonah’s sisters pulled him into hug after hug, she turned, gathered her stuff, and slipped out of the kitchen.
Only when she was safely slinking up the dark staircase did she let her tears begin to fall.
Because the idea of leaving him hurt more than it should.
But the idea of staying and losing him later hurt even worse.
* * *
He needed to talk to Bronte. He hadn’t slowed down long enough to process everything that had happened tonight, especially not after his family walked in as soon as Bronte dropped that bombshell. He was more than excited his family was home, but couldn’t they have waited at least another thirty minutes to an hour before barging in? He’d wanted to march up to his old bedroom, pull Bronte out, and sit her down so they could talk. But maybe she needed time to process. It was well after midnight, so it had been hours since she’d disappeared upstairs. He’d give her space tonight and make a point to pull her aside tomorrow and talk. They could figure this out. His heart was in shreds. He’d never thought about a plan that didn’t involve a big family. But was he really ready to say goodbye to Bronte?
“Okay, there is def something going on between you and my renter. So spill, big bro.” Holland plopped next to Jonah on the couch and held out a steaming mug of some coffee concoction she’d insisted he had to try.
The rest of his family all found places to land. It was the first time in over two years that the entire family was under one roof.
Amy and her daughter, Ruby, were sharing one room, Mika Beth and Halle took what used to be the girls’ room, and their parents would take the old master bedroom. Holland and Jonah had opted for the couches in the living room since Bronte was still in Jonah’s old room.
“Wow. You have it bad.” Holland still held the mug aloft in front of him.
“I have what bad?” Jonah took the mug, staring at the milky-brown liquid inside.
Holland grinned at him over her own coffee. At some point, she had put her ridiculous beanie back on her head. “So bad.”
Jonah took a drink of whatever it was that Holland had handed him. Coffee and chocolate and spices exploded on his taste buds. “This is really good, Holland.”
Holland took a sip of hers, a smug smile on her face. “I know.” She frowned and pointed a finger at Jonah. “Don’t change the subject.”
“What were we talking about?” Jonah feigned ignorance.
Holland rolled her eyes. “Stop. Seriously. What is going on between you and Bronte?”
“Bronte?”
“Yeah, her.”
He had fallen in love, that’s what. Had she asked a few hours earlier, Jonah wouldn’t have been able to stop talking about her, but now? Now he didn’t know what. He had let himself fall too hard and too fast without having the whole story.
“I don’t know that there’s anything going on.” He ran his hand over his face.
What else was there to say? There was actually so much more to say, but he wasn’t sure he could get it out.
“Riiiiight.”
She saw right through him. He sighed and plopped his head on the back of the couch. “I think I fell in love.”
“With Bronte? In a week?” Holland considered him with her eyebrow quirked.
“I know.”
“Why do you say you’re in love with her?”
Jonah appreciated that Holland didn’t tell him he was insane or that what he was feeling couldn’t possibly be love this early in the game. Holland would never.
