Page 25 of Daddy's Little Christmas

But Winterhaven on a night like that had its own gravity. Someone stopped me to ask about their wreath order. Mrs. Kavanagh pressed a paper cup into my hand and scolded me for not wearing thicker gloves. Ed and Earl argued loudly about whose turn it was to help with the extension cord, both of them insisting it definitely wasn’t theirs. Each interruption was small, ordinary—the kind you don’t push away without seeming rude.

Every time I glanced back, Rudy was still there.

Still watching. Still holding himself together.

When the noise tipped from festive into too much, I saw it happen in real time. His hands twisted the sleeves of his coat like fabric might anchor him. His gaze flicked toward the darker street, scanning for an exit, for space, for air.

That was the moment choice left the equation.

I didn’t think about whether it would be awkward. I didn’t worry about whether I’d misread things. I just moved.

Close enough for my presence to register. Steady enough to matter. My voice low, meant only for him.

Easy. Breathe with me. I’ve got you.

The words had come from somewhere deep, rising before I’d thought to shape them, guided by instinct rather than intention.

Rudy had leaned back into me like he’d been waiting for permission to stop holding himself upright.

Whatever shaped him into the man who folded in on himself, it wasn’t weakness. It was history. And I understood history. I’d been made of mine too.

I set a box of ornaments on the counter and let out a slow breath. The shop smelled like pine and citrus, the faint sweetness of cinnamon rising from the candle display near the window.

I wasn’t a reckless man. I didn’t confuse a moment of connection with a promise. I’d learned that lesson once already—Michael’s kindness hadn’t made his leaving hurt any less.

And yet, Rudy had stayed with me since he walked out of the shop the night before. The way his voice had softened when he spoke. The care he’d taken with that reindeer plush. The look he’d given me when the cocoa warmed him—like he was trying to decide whether I was safe.

It had been a long time since anyone made me pay attention like that.

The bell chimed.

My head lifted.

Rudy stepped inside, snow clinging to the damp ends of his hair, cheeks flushed from the cold. He paused just inside the doorway,taking in the room like he wasn’t sure whether it would welcome him back.

When his eyes found mine, something in his shoulders eased—and then tightened again, relief tangling with nerves.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I answered, keeping my voice even. The same tone I used with everyone. I didn’t want him to feel examined. I wanted him to feel safe.

He drifted toward the front display instead of the counter, fingers brushing the edge of a shelf. His gaze skimmed the ornaments without pausing, like he needed something to look at that wasn’t me.

“I… didn’t know if you’d be busy,” he said, eyes still on the display.

I leaned my hip against the counter, giving him space without stepping away. “I’m open,” I said. “Busy comes and goes.”

A breath left him, almost a laugh but not quite.

His eyes flicked toward the tree in the corner—the shop tree, tall and full, lights strung but branches still bare.

“I wanted to—” He stopped, swallowed. “About last night.”

I stayed where I was. Didn’t close the distance. Didn’t retreat either. I wanted him to know he could choose how close this got.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” I said.

His shoulders eased a fraction, then tensed again, like he didn’t quite believe me. “I wasn’t trying to… make it a thing.”