Page 35 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage (Jonathon Island #6)

Someone flung themselves at Jonah’s back, arms and legs circling him in a bear hug.

He bent forward, and Bronte caught sight of a girl with a puffy jacket and bright-pink beanie with a puff ball on top.

More people poured in from the front hallway.

An older man pulling a rolling suitcase almost as big as he was, a woman with gray streaked through her dark hair, a girl with large glasses dwarfing her face who looked like she was on the brink of being a teenager, and two women who looked so much like Jonah.

Bronte had seen all these people before.

She’d been living under their gazes for the past two weeks.

Jonah’s family was home early.

Wiping her hand over her face, Bronte stepped back, ready to gather her stuff and let Jonah have time with his family. Even with her heart crumbling, she was glad they’d surprised him. She closed her laptop, then stacked her notebook on top, creating a neat pile.

“Oh, did we just interrupt something here?” The girl who had been on Jonah’s back now stood next to them, a finger bouncing back and forth between Jonah and Bronte.

“No.” Jonah denied it. “Bronte, this is Holland. Holland, Bronte.”

Bronte offered her hand to the smaller, feminine version of Jonah.

Blue eyes sparkling with mischief, Holland looked exactly like someone Bronte would have loved getting to know.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, pasting a fake smile on her face.

“I thought you weren’t coming back for a couple more days. ”

Holland winced. “I guess that means you didn’t get my message that we were coming home early?

I know Jonah planned on flying out to see us.

” She tugged off her hat and tossed it to the table.

“But we couldn’t wait any longer and thought we’d surprise him here.

I’m so sorry about the mix-up! I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.

I’ve already refunded your money for the stay. ”

“Oh.” Bronte’s gaze darted to Jonah, who was looking anywhere but at her. “That’s not necessary. It’s fine. Really.”

“Of course it’s necessary. Besides”—she shrugged her shoulders—“it’s already done. Merry Christmas!”

Bronte didn’t know what to do, so she just nodded her thanks and turned back to gather her things.

Holland exclaimed, “Oh gosh, Dad, let me help you,” and turned to help the older man, who was currently hidden behind the three duffel bags in his arms.

The fist in her stomach grew bigger, and she just wanted to go back up to her room to cry and pack and try to forget this night had ever happened.

Jonah stopped Bronte with a hand on her arm. It felt as if everything melted away with his one touch. Everything fell silent. In this moment it was just her and Jonah.

“Please.” His eyes moved back and forth over hers. “I can tell you want to bolt, but we need to keep talking. Stay.”

There wasn’t anything Bronte wanted more. She wanted to stay and meet the people who had made Jonah the person he was. But that would just make the leaving that much harder.

And she had to leave.

Someone tugged at Jonah’s arm, and they were pulled apart before Bronte could say anything.

She couldn’t be here anymore. Seeing Jonah with his family, she understood why he wanted the big family.

Why he wanted lots of kids. And no matter how much they talked about it, how much they tried to work through it, Bronte would never be able to give him that.

Not only because she couldn’t have children but because she wouldn’t know the first thing about being a mom. About being part of a real family.

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 for him —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.

“She’s amazing, Holland. She’s funny and smart and a writer.”

“And?”

“And she can’t have kids.”

“Oh.” Holland knew how important it was to Jonah to have a big family. It was something he’d talked about since, well, forever. “Jonah, I’m so sorry.”

Jonah stared at the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, the only light in the room other than the stove light on in the kitchen behind them.

The presents under the tree reached to almost the middle of the room.

Holland and his parents had pulled them out of suitcases and closets after they’d gotten home.

They planned on having a traditional White family Christmas, complete with his mom’s waffles and Bing Crosby playing on Holland’s vintage record player.

It would be the perfect Christmas morning that he had wanted to give to Bronte.

Somewhere in the pile of paper and ribbon was the gift he had purchased for Bronte. Would he give it to her now? Would she even want it?

Holland picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until she found White Christmas playing. Bronte’s new favorite.

She muted it and turned back to Jonah. “Do you really love her?”

Did he?

Jonah let the question hang in the air between them.

He’d thought so. He’d thought he’d fallen so completely in love with Bronte that nothing could have changed it, but then she’d told him she couldn’t have kids.

That couldn’t be right. God wouldn’t give him the perfect woman at the cost of his biggest dream, would He? “I thought I did.”

“But that love was all contingent on what she could or couldn’t give you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Holland made him sound like a jerk.

“It sure sounds like it.”

Anger burned in Jonah’s chest, but he couldn’t figure out if he was angry at Holland, himself, or God. He leaned more toward anger at himself. Had his love for Bronte really come with contingencies? He didn’t feel like it had, but did Bronte feel like he’d cast her aside just like Brad had?

“Right. So, how’s the Army life?”

“Whiplash on the subject change much, Holland?” He was grateful for the change yet wished it had been to any other topic. He’d only gone from one thing he wanted to be sick about to another.

Instead of answering, he engrossed himself in watching Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye dance across the screen, singing about sisters.

“That good, huh?”

“I’m up for reenlistment.”

His sister shrugged, eyes never moving from the TV. “So, don’t reenlist.”

“But if I don’t reenlist, I retire and take over the clinic.”

Holland’s gaze swung to him. “I thought that was the plan. I thought you wanted to be on Jonathon Island.”

Jonah looked over his shoulder. Why did his sister have to be so loud? “I do want to be on Jonathon Island, but I don’t think I’m cut out for being a doctor for the rest of my life.”

Holland shrugged again and turned back to the movie. “So, you tell Dad.”

“I’m just waiting for the right time.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Holland.” Jonah groaned. “This has been the plan for me since I was born. I’m not sure I even had any options other than becoming a doctor. When I talked it over with Amy a couple years ago, she told me it’d break Dad’s heart if I didn’t take over the clinic.”

“First of all,” Holland said as she jabbed him in the side with her finger, “I can’t believe you talked this over with Amy before you told me. I can’t believe you’ve been struggling with this by yourself for so long.”

Jonah held up his hands. “Sorry.”

“And secondly”—Holland held up two fingers—“you went into the Army because that’s what you told Mom and Dad you wanted.”

Jonah opened his mouth to contradict his sister, but…

could she be right? He’d told his parents so long ago that he wanted to join the Army after college to go to med school because that’s what his grandpa had done.

He thought they’d agreed because he was still on track to becoming a doctor, but could it be that they’d said yes because that was what Jonah had said he wanted?

“But I’d be throwing away years of school, and for what?”

“What’s your point, Jonah?” Holland threw up her hands.

“If you aren’t happy, if you’ll never be happy being a doctor, I don’t think Mom and Dad will force you to keep doing it.

Dad might be disappointed for a little bit, but it’s not the end of the world.

The end of the world would be finding out you’re in a life you hate because you thought you had no other choice. That would break his heart.”

Hadn’t Bronte told him basically the same thing? “I don’t even have a good plan of what to do if I get out.”

The idea of the bookstore popped into his head. It had just been a dream when he and Bronte had walked by the store. He’d never imagined that there was a world where he could live on the island, not be a doctor, and own a bookstore. Had he been worried about nothing?

“You’ll figure something out. I’m sure you have a backup plan for your backup plan somewhere in that brain of yours. Besides, if you think you can use Dad as an excuse to stay in a mind-numbing life, you are highly mistaken, mister.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re using Mom and Dad as an excuse for making a decision about your life.”

“I’m not. I’m just…it’s hard to go against the plan that’s been laid out for you.”

Holland reached over and punched him in the shoulder. “They want you to be happy.”

“I thought it was going to make me happy. It’s a solid job and can provide for a family here on island.

That’s what I always wanted.” Jonah turned back to the TV, not believing that he was confessing this to his sister.

“But I just don’t know if that’s what I want anymore.

At least the job part of it. I still want a family.

Still want to stay here. Mostly, I want a woman I can partner with. Who will make me a better man.”

“And that’s Bronte?”

Jonah shrugged. “If she wants the same thing.”

He and Bronte still had so much to talk about. But he was determined not to let her leave without telling her that having biological kids wasn’t the be all and end all for him.

“Then why are you still doing the Army thing?”

Jonah huffed out a breath. He knew she was asking a rhetorical question, because he had already answered it. Or maybe she just wanted to make the question sink in.

“I think you would be surprised at Mom and Dad’s reaction if you told them you weren’t planning on reenlisting and you didn’t want to take over the clinic. Especially if it meant you were moving back home.”

Maybe he could make this work. He would tell his dad about his idea to open the bookstore, and everything would work out. He’d settle down and start a book-loving family.

Thoughts of the dreams that his mind had conjured of him and Bronte and a huge family slammed to the forefront, and he remembered what could never be. At least, not with Bronte.