Page 14 of A Perfect Christmas Dance (Kringle, Texas #7)

They fell into silence again, George’s plaintive voice the only sound in the room. Nina took a breath, unsure if she should say more. The quiet between them wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. There was something beneath it, something in the way Ryan kept looking away, his body tense.

Despite him asking her to stay, did he actually not want her here?

She took a bite of pasta. It turned out really good, but she couldn’t enjoy it. The tension seemed to tighten, the distance between them widening.

On the TV, George Bailey stood on the bridge, staring down at the water.

“Is there…” She trailed off, wondering if she should let it go, but the heaviness in the room felt stifling. “Are you hurting? It’s time for a pain pill if you want one.”

“I’m trying to tough it out,” he said.

“There’s no honor in suffering.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I deserve the pain.”

“Ryan!” she said, shocked. “You don’t mean that.”

“Forgive me,” he said. “It’s the damn movie.”

She reached for the remote and muted the TV. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head. “My parents… never mind.”

“Okay, I won’t push you to talk.” She went back to her pasta but kept an eye on him from her peripheral vision. Something was definitely up.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Ryan said, “This movie was playing when…” His voice caught.

“Shh, shh,” she said. “You don’t owe me any explanation.”

“I was hanging the stockings when the sheriff deputies knocked on the door that Christmas Eve and It’s A Wonderful Life was on. We watched it every year together.” His voice sounded far away and tinny, as if he were speaking through a long metal tube.

A lump of sympathy clogged her throat. She didn’t speak. Everyone in Kringle knew about his family tragedy, but no one really talked about it. She’d been away at college when the accident happened and never really learned the details.

“Jenny wasn’t home. She was with Scott. I was alone. Just me.”

“Oh, Ryan.” Nina put a hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“The thing is, it was supposed to have been me,” he said.

“You?”

“ I was supposed to go to town for the horse feed, but I had a cold, and Mom insisted I stay home.” He hiccuped.

“All my fault in the first place. I neglected to order the supplies when Dad told me to. I was too busy mooning over Mandy Cartwright, who broken up with me to date my best friend. Because of me, my folks got on the road that Christmas Eve… because of me, they never came home.”

Nina sucked in her breath through clenched teeth. Was that why he isolated himself on the ranch? Why he didn’t date much, as far as she knew? Was he punishing himself for an accident?

He was sitting straight up in bed, staring at the muted TV, his eyes drilling a hole in George Bailey.

The room seemed to close in on itself. Grow smaller. Shrink.

Grief haunted this man. His parents had been gone for seven years, and yet he was still stuck in the past, still reliving that horrendous Christmas.

Her heart broke for him.

Ryan’s shoulders trembled. He turned his face away from her, but she could see the tightness in his jaw, the rigidity in his body.

Nina’s instinct was to reach out, to do something, but she wasn’t sure how. This was bone-deep anguish, and she didn’t feel equipped to soothe him. What could she say?

Uncertain, she shifted closer, watching him, waiting for him to say more if he wanted to.

“If I hadn’t been so girl crazy—” His voice cracked, and he stopped.

She didn’t know why she did what she did next. She didn’t think. She just reacted, her singular goal to ease his suffering.

Sliding into the bed beside him, careful of his leg, Nina reached out and wrapped her arms around him.

At first, he didn’t respond—his body stiff, like he was barely holding himself together. But as she cradled him in her arms and murmured shh, shh , his tension ebbed away. His breathing slowed, and suddenly, the sobs came, deep and raw, breaking through the surface.

Nina pulled him closer, guided his head to her shoulder, and just squeezed him tight. She didn’t think about what this meant or whether it was the right thing to do. She knew he needed someone to hold him, to let him fall apart without judgment.

His body trembled against hers, and she could feel the weight of everything he’d been carrying for years—the guilt, the grief, all of it pouring out.

“You couldn’t have known,” she whispered, her voice steady, though her heart ached for him. “It wasn’t your fault, Ryan. You were young. You did your best.”

He didn’t answer, but his grip on her tightened, his fingers clutching her as if she were his only anchor.

She held him through it, her hands running gently over his back, her cheek resting against his hair. She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to. Words wouldn’t fix what had happened, and she knew that. She was just here, in this moment, with him.

Slowly, his sobs quieted, though his breathing stayed uneven.

His body, which had been so rigid with tension, began to relax, and the shaking eased.

He didn’t let go, though, didn’t pull away.

Nina kept her arms around him, unsure of what to do next but knowing this wasn’t the time to leave him alone.