Page 15 of The Santa Situation
My throat was tight when I said, “You’ve got nothing to thank me for, son.”
Jemma was still watching them walk off when I finally turned to her. “It’s good to see Eli happy,” I said softly. “To have someone claim him like that, out in the open. Maggie told me a little about what he’s been going through.”
Her smile wobbled slightly, pride and emotion tangled together. “It really is,” she murmured, tugging the wig from herhead and shoving it down into the pocket of her parka. “I was worried he wasn’t going to get to experience teenage love like everyone else does, you know? Something as simple as holding hands or wrapping your arms around someone can feel so momentous when you’re that age.”
I nodded, my gaze following the kids until they disappeared into the crowd. I couldn’t help thinking how lucky I’d been back then—how I never had to hide my feelings for Jemma or pretend they were anything less than what they were. How I never had to ask my best friend to fake-date my crush so that we could spend time together without raising suspicion. It wasn’t right, the things Eli had been forced to navigate.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
The moment lingered between us, gentle and heavy all at once, until my phone buzzed with a text. I pulled it out of my pocket. “I gotta head back on the boat to pick up my car. How are you getting home?”
“I’m not actually sure.” Jemma let out a little laugh. “I guess I didn’t think that far ahead.”
I glanced toward where the Graymalkin sat, its engine idling in the harbor, and lifted my hand in a wave that I knew Cade could see from where he stood at the rail. I turned back to Jemma. “I know it’s out of your way and the weather is turning to shit, but you could come back with us. I can drive you home.”
She looked over at the boat, her body letting loose a shiver, and for a second, I thought she might say no. It was really damn cold out there on the water. But then her eyes found mine, and she gave a slight nod.
“Sure,” she said. “If you’re sure it’s not a hassle.”
“Jemma,” I breathed out her name. “You’re never a hassle.”
I wanted to say more. Wanted to tell her that any extra time I got to spend with her was special. That, if I was being honest,even if she hadn’t needed a ride, I would’ve found some excuse to stretch the night a little longer.
Instead, I gestured toward the dock. “Come on. It’s starting to snow again.”
The wind off the river carried that sharp, metallic bite that always came before a storm. Heavy flakes drifted down as we boarded the Graymalkin.
Cade looked up from where he was coiling a line and gave a short nod. “You two set?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Appreciate the lift back.”
He moved behind the wheel and lifted his chin toward a thermos and some empty mugs set beside it. “Got you some of Hazel’s special cocoa like you asked.”
“You’re a good man,” I said, pouring two cups as we eased away from the dock, the lights from town thinning behind us.
The Graymalkin rocked gently as we cut through the water, snow thickening until the shoreline blurred to smudges of gray and white. Neither Jemma nor I spoke for a long while.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. Just strange. In all the years I’d known her, Jemma and I had never run out of things to say to each other. Even that first time our paths had crossed after our breakup, the words had come as easily as breathing.
Now they didn’t.
And I didn’t know what to make of it.
The snow came down harder as we rounded the point, fat flakes blurring the lights from the houses that dotted the shoreline out this way. Cade kept his focus on the water, his shoulders hunched inside his jacket.
“Feels like we’re in a snow globe,” Jemma said with a shiver. “A very cold one.”
“Come here.” I tugged her gently into my arms in an effort to warm her up.
There wasn’t anything sexual in the gesture, but I couldn’t deny how good she felt pressed against me, even through our costumes and coats. Her hair brushed my chin, the faint scent of her rosemary mint shampoo clinging to it.
When the dock at Hobson’s Landing came into view, it appeared like a ghost through the curtain of white. Cade eased back on the throttle, guiding us in until the hull brushed the bumper with a low, hollow sound. He tied off the lines and glanced over his shoulder.
“Same time next year?” he asked.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Not a chance. It’s been fun, but I think I’ll leave Santa duty to Jack Dawson.”
Jemma followed me down the gangway, her boots crunching over the snow and ice that had settled on the planks. My breath clouded in the glow of lights from the dock light as I unlocked the truck and got the heater running.
