Mistletoe Season by Michelle Major

CHAPTER TWENTY

GABEWOKEONChristmas morning to the sound of Patsy Cline blaring through the house.

He stifled a groan and rubbed two fingers against his temples. He knew what that music meant. His mother had always gravitated toward music about broken hearts when her mood was down, and her mood was always bad during the holidays.

It was as if every slight or loss she’d had throughout the year—even her lifetime—was compounded at Christmas. As an adult, he’d learned it wasn’t unusual for people to be depressed at this time of year. Despite all the magic that Angi and her family seemed to find in the holidays, plenty of people struggled with unrealistic expectations or comparisons of their own imperfect life to the cheery images on Christmas cards or endless social media posts.

Hell, before this year, he’d been one of them.

But he’d been given a huge gift, one that no money could buy. The gift of hope and joy. And love. Most importantly love. Even though he missed his grandmother, he knew she’d want him to find happiness.

Her love was truly unconditional, and she’d always wanted him to focus on the good moments in life. In the end, he’d been able to offer a bit of that back to her. As awful as it was to have his mother in the house now, he tried to remember the joy that had surrounded him when he’d been working to make his grandma’s dream come true again.

Although the noise from the first floor seemed intent on drowning out whatever Christmas spirit he could muster.

He threw off the covers and glanced at his phone as it vibrated on the nightstand.

A text from Angi.

With a sharp ache in his gut, he cleared the home screen without reading her message. What the hell was there to say at this point?

They hadn’t spoken since those final moments when he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor. He knew she’d been surprised that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to embarrass her in front of those grown-up mean girls.

How could she believe he’d do anything other than choose her? Even when he’d been holding on to his anger and bitterness like a lifeline, she’d had his heart. He understood that was why he’d been so bitter in the first place. It was the only defense mechanism he’d had. The only way to keep his heart safe.

But she’d managed to move past his defenses like they were made of jelly instead of the brick walls he’d tried to build. There was nothing he could deny her when she looked at him with those soft chocolate eyes.

At least not until his mother had arrived back in town, reminding him that he didn’t belong in Magnolia. This place wasn’t his home.

Gabe dressed, brushed his teeth and headed downstairs. “Mom?” he called as he entered the kitchen. “Can you turn down the music?”

The only answer was a dull thumping sound. He eyed the mess of dirty dishes and leftover food in the kitchen with a sigh, and then headed toward the front of the house, following the banging and swearing.

Had one of his mother’s usual loser boyfriends followed her to Magnolia?

Gabe’s breath caught in his throat as he came to the threshold of his grandfather’s office. The room had remained largely untouched for decades. He knew his grandma hadn’t been able to bring herself to use the large cherry desk that had belonged to her late husband.

Instead, she’d set up a smaller, delicate writing desk in one corner of the room. Gabe had gone through it when he’d first arrived in Magnolia, although most of her paperwork for the business was kept at the store.

He took in the scene before him with a clawing sense of frustration. Papers and books were strewn across the floor along with several empty beer cans and a jar of peanut butter with a dirty spoon lying next to it. He quickly walked over to the old amplifier and cassette player on the bookshelf and flipped it off.

“Mom, what the hell?” he demanded as Poppy looked up, the sudden silence alerting her to his presence.

“She kept all my old cassette tapes,” his mom told him, as if that was the answer to his question. “My parents hated my music, so I can’t believe she didn’t relish tossing them to the trash just like she did me.”

“Your revisionist history isn’t going to work with me,” he said, setting his jaw so he didn’t yell the words. His mother would love nothing more than a big, dramatic argument and the ability to turn him into the bad guy, the way she had her parents. “Gran took care of you, and she took care of me. She kept a ledger, you know. Every payment she made to you, Mom. She was sending you money up until her fall. So let’s not pretend otherwise.”

His mother’s eyes narrowed. “Not the money I needed. She saved that for her precious town and business.”

“What are you doing?” He took a step forward. “Did you sleep at all, Mom?”

Her lip curled and she swiped a finger under each eye. His mom had always favored coal-lined eyes, which seemed strange given the fact that she didn’t seem to care about taking off her makeup at night. As he remembered from so many mornings of his childhood, she had the appearance of a hungover raccoon, only now the lines at the corners of her eyes were deeper, the day-old liner sunk into them like tar on a cracked driveway.

“How can I sleep when I feel your hatred toward me? It’s hard to breathe in this place between your judgment and my mother’s lingering disappointment.”

“She’s gone,” Gabe reminded his mom. “Can you give her a break now?” Give me a break, he wanted to add but didn’t bother. When he left home at eighteen to join the army, he’d made a vow that he’d never ask his mother for another thing.

A vow he had no intention of breaking.

“Are you hiding the will?” she asked, eyes narrowed. “Trying to cut me out of what’s rightfully mine?”

Her accusation stung, and he hated that he let any of her verbal animosity affect him. This was why Gabe had cut himself off from feeling anything. There was too much hard that could come in with the good. By not feeling anything, he protected himself from feeling the things that were too difficult. Unwanted.

The way his mother hadn’t wanted him. And still didn’t, apparently.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, trying unsuccessfully to loosen the knots that had formed there. “I’m going to shower and make breakfast. I don’t suppose we have much to do in the way of exchanging presents.”

“Gabe, answer me.”

He wanted to ignore her. To walk away, pack his bag and leave this house. The happiness that he’d found in Magnolia was like a distant memory at this point. All he could see was the mess his mother had made, and not just of this room. She’d made a mess of his life. The life he hadn’t realized he wanted but that now meant more to him than anything else.

But his sense of duty wouldn’t allow him to. Despite knowing he’d never make her happy, why was it so difficult to turn his back on the parent who’d rejected and demanded from him in equal measure?

He’d learned that happiness was a choice, and one his mom would never make.

“I haven’t seen an actual will,” he said, his tone flat. Barren like the way his heart felt. “But I’m sure it’s here somewhere. I can give you the number of her attorney in town. That’s my gift to you, Mom. I’m walking away having added value to the house and the business, and you’ll reap the benefits.” He started to turn but looked at her again with the cool detachment he’d give to a stranger. “As a bonus, I’ll be gone tomorrow. It’s all yours. Merry Christmas, Mom.”

ANGIRANG GABE’Sdoorbell later that night, holding tight to the plate of leftovers she carried and trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest.

An old sedan with New Mexico plates, dented on one side with the fender loose, sat in the driveway in front of Gabe’s truck.

She hadn’t talked to him since his mom made her appearance at the dance. The irritating man had left Angi on the dance floor as he’d stalked over to Poppy Carlyle, exchanged a few heated words and then taken off.

No return calls or texts, even though Angi knew how hard it must be to have his mom finally here.

He’d dreaded that moment, although they both knew it was coming.

Selfishly, Angi had hoped that Poppy would arrive after Christmas. That she’d have a chance to spend the holiday with Gabe and finally ask him to reconsider ending their pretend relationship, the connection all too real for her. She wanted a do-over on the past few weeks, one where she would have told Gabe how she felt about him.

The fact that she’d fallen in love with him.

It took a few minutes for the front door to open, and she found herself face-to-face with Poppy, who gave her a long, assessing once-over that might have made Angi cringe at some point. But she was past caring what anyone thought of her. Although this was Gabe’s mother, Angi had little interest in playing nice.

“You’re the one he was dancing with the other night,” Poppy said, her fingers clasped tightly in front of her bulky sweatshirt.

“I’m Angi Guilardi.” Angi held out a hand because that’s how she’d been raised. “A friend of Gabe’s.”

Poppy didn’t take it, which told Angi everything she needed to know, confirming her suspicion about the kind of person Gabe’s mother was.

With a sniff, the other woman turned and hollered up the stairs, “Gabriel, you have a visitor.” She said the last like it was the worst of all swear words. Then her sharp gaze flicked to Angi again. “My son never had many friends.”

“He does in Magnolia.”

“A change from when he spent summers here as a kid.” Poppy shook her head, but the corner of her mouth curved into an almost smile. “Such an awkward, odd boy. I thought he might be touched in the mind. Turns out the army did more with him than I ever could.”

“Maybe you should have tried harder,” Angi said before she thought better of it. “Or at all.”

“Snippy one,” Poppy murmured as heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs behind her. “Interesting choice for him.”

“What are you doing here?” Gabe asked as he came to stand next to his mother.

“Merry Christmas,” Angi answered with a smile. One he didn’t return. “I brought you some food.” She looked at Poppy. “There’s a plate for both of you.”

His mother shook her head. “I got Chinese carryout earlier. Ate my weight in moo goo gai pan.” She patted Gabe on the arm, and Angi would have sworn he had to make an effort not to flinch away from the touch. “It’s our family tradition.”

“We don’t have family traditions,” Gabe said quietly, his voice like a razor cutting through the awkward tension.

His mother just laughed like he’d made a great joke, turned and walked away.

“How are you?” Angi reached for him once they were alone, but Gabe shifted away from her.

Warning bells clanged in her brain, and she did her best to ignore them. The new year wouldn’t dawn for another week, but it was past time she worked on being brave.

“I missed you today. We all did.”

His eyes darkened for an instant, and then he grabbed the wrapped plates from her hand, placed them on the side table in the entry and pushed her a step backward out the door.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Angi swallowed against the rising panic in her chest. This was a Gabe she’d never seen before. It was more than disdainful, as he’d been when he first arrived in Magnolia. It was as if he’d turned to ice, and a shiver rippled through her in response.

He moved to the edge of the porch steps like he might bound off into the darkness. She could feel the agitation radiating from him, and she wrapped her arms around her waist to shield her from whatever was coming next.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Go home to your family, Ang. It’s over.”

“I don’t want you to be alone on Christmas.”

“You met my mother,” he said with a derisive laugh. “Clearly I’m not alone.”

She wanted to argue. It was clear as the night sky that he was as lonely as he’d ever been, maybe even more so because of his mother’s presence in the house.

“Not just today,” she said before she lost her nerve. “I miss you in general, Gabe. It’s more than just the holiday and I refuse to believe we’re over.”

“Of course we are,” he said. “That was the agreement.”

“No.” She stepped forward, praying that he wouldn’t bolt on her. “Or maybe it was, but everything changed.”

“You’re right.” He turned to her, his jaw tight and color high on his cheeks. “My grandmother died, and my mom is here now to take what belongs to her. I don’t have to pretend in order to make anyone happy.”

“I’m not pretending,” Angi said, opening her gaze and hoping she could get through to him. Praying it wasn’t too late. “I love you, Gabe.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” She breathed out a soft laugh. “I’ve known it for a while. But at the dance when you took my hand—”

“That was part of the act.”

She shook her head, ignoring the way his words stung like the lash of a whip.

“I told you I’d keep it up until the new year,” he said, his voice just as icy as his demeanor. “But it ends now.”

“I don’t want it to end.” She held out a hand but gathered it to her body before he could take it. She didn’t know how to reach him when he was like this. “I know you feel something for me, too. Something real.”

“Pity,” he said, and she sucked in a breath. “You’re grasping at me because you’re too afraid to go after what you want in life. I feel sorry for you, Angi. And for Andrew, because he deserves a mother who knows how to stand up for herself and what she wants.”

“I want you,” she whispered, desperate to make this work even as she felt her heart splintering.

“I’m leaving town tomorrow.” He closed his eyes and shifted his gaze to the front yard, like he couldn’t even stand looking at her. “I won’t be back.”

“You can’t mean that.” Her voice cracked and she felt tears sting the back of her eyes. She dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of her palms, needing the physical pain to drown out everything else. “This is your home.”

“I don’t have anything here,” he said. “No business. No house. No—”

“You have me,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “You have Andrew and friends. Choose me. Choose us, Gabe. Don’t let your mom win.”

He snorted. “She already has. I’m done. You deserve better. The younger version of you knew it. Current you just has to remember.”

“I love you,” she repeated because what else could she say?

“You’re wasting your time. I don’t know how to give you what you want. I can’t be that man.”

You already are, she wanted to tell him.

She wanted to scream and yell and beat on him until she broke through that frosty exterior to the tenderness and vulnerability she’d discovered he hid deep inside.

What was the point? As he’d just told her, she was wasting her time, and that was something she’d promised herself she would no longer do. She was too valuable for that, and if Gabe couldn’t see it then that was his loss.

Even if hers was the heart shattering.

“I took you for a lot of things, Gabe.” She drew in a deep breath as she stepped away from him. The first of many. “A coward wasn’t one of them.”

Without waiting for his reply, she bounded down the porch steps, needing to get away before she crumpled into a million pieces.