Page 35 of Noel Secrets

Michael frowned. The words stung because they mirrored too closely his own truth. He let out a sharp exhale. “Jayda doesn’t trust me. Not really. And she has every right not to. Right now, she’s stuck with me. That’s all.”

Chuck chuckled, warm and low. “You know, I used to think Greta was stuck with me, too. But here’s the thing—you neverstop earning trust. Day by day, moment by moment. You keep showing up, no matter what.”

Michael shook his head, bitterness rising. “You don’t understand. I was awful to her. Back when she was a foster kid in my parents’ house. I was older, selfish, too wrapped up in my own life to see what she needed. I treated her like she didn’t belong.” His voice dropped, rough with guilt. “She doesn’t owe me anything now. Least of all trust.”

Chuck’s eyes flicked to him again, sharper this time. “Sounds to me like you’re looking for penance.”

Michael’s jaw worked. “If I can help her now…if I can protect her, maybe I can make it right. Maybe I can wipe away some of the past.”

Chuck studied him for a long moment. Then his voice softened again. “Is that all she is to you? A chance to fix your mistakes?”

Michael stiffened. He knew what Chuck was asking. He didn’t want to admit it—not even to himself. “She’s…more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how?” Chuck pressed.

Michael’s eyes slid to Jayda’s sleeping face. The faintest smile tugged at her lips, as if she were dreaming something almost pleasant. His chest tightened. “She deserves more than I can give her. More than I have to give, and I deserve little.”

Chuck’s voice dropped low, as if he was letting him in on a secret. “Son, none of us deserves the good things. Not love, not forgiveness, not grace. But that’s the whole point of Christmas. Hope for what we don’t deserve. Hope for more than we could ever imagine. God’s imagination far outstretches ours.”

Michael stared at him, unsettled. “You’re saying I should…what? Believe I get a do-over?”

“I’m saying you should ask God for what you want,” Chuck said. “Not what you think you deserve. What do you want?”

Michael’s throat tightened. He wanted to dodge the question, but it hung there, insistent. Finally, he whispered, “I want Jayda to be my friend.”

Chuck’s mouth quirked into a knowing smile. “And what if God wants to give you more than friendship?”

Michael’s chest ached. He looked at her again, at how soft the lines of her face became in sleep. She was so pretty it hurt. His voice cracked with honesty. “That would far exceed what I’d dare ask for.” He shook his head quickly, forcing the thought away. “But God’s never been part of my life. Why would He give me anything?”

Chuck’s answer came steadily. “Because He already has…because He’s always been there for you whether you realized it or not. You just haven’t opened your eyes to see it yet. To see Him and His secret gifts behind your back. But don’t worry—I’ll be praying He does.”

The silence stretched after that, heavy but not uncomfortable. Michael leaned his head back against the seat, Jayda still resting against him, the warmth of her body grounding him more than he wanted to admit.

The rhythm of the tires against the road lulled the truck into a hushed cadence, the steady sound that could coax even the most restless mind toward quiet. Outside the passenger window, the world blurred in streaks of dark pine and snow-dusted fields, lit only by the occasional glow of farmhouse Christmas lights. Michael felt the weight of Jayda’s head against his shoulder, her dark curls falling loose over his jacket, her breath soft and even.

Michael tilted his head slightly, careful not to jostle her. He shouldn’t notice how warm she felt, or how her trust—even unconscious and unintentional—stirred a hope in him he had no right to claim. He shouldn’t, but he did.

The car dipped slightly as they crossed a small bridge, headlights glancing off the frozen water below. Jayda stirredagainst him, murmuring something incoherent before settling again. Michael instinctively adjusted, comforting her, and when he glanced up, Chuck was smiling knowingly.

“You know,” Chuck said, his eyes fixed on the dark stretch of highway ahead, “when Greta was alive, she used to tell me I had this annoying way of seeing through her excuses. She’d put on a brave face when she was hurting or scared, but I could always tell. Just like I could tell with your girl tonight. Fear’s not something you can hide in the eyes.” Chuck sent him a look that dared Michael to deny what he saw.

Michael swallowed, his jaw tightening. He nodded Chuck was right. Jayda was petrified, and so was he. Back at Chuck’s house, Jayda had smiled, all polite and chipper, but her hands had trembled just enough to notice there was more. That fear wasn’t imagined. It was real. And she had good reason.

Chuck continued, “The fear was right there, plain as day, in her eyes. That’s why I jumped into action to take you. Whatever story you two gave me about meeting family…it isn’t the whole truth, is it?”

Michael let out a long breath, barely above a whisper. “You’re not wrong.”

Chuck didn’t respond right away, just kept his gaze on the road. Snowbanks blurred by, the highway empty except for the occasional pair of headlights slicing the dark.

Finally, Chuck spoke again. “You wanna tell me what’s chasing her?”

Michael stared out the window, the snow falling at warp speed. He debated. He wasn’t in the habit of spilling classified details to strangers. He always protected his sources for his articles, never sharing names.

At his hesitation, Chuck said, “Hm.” Chuck leaned back against the seat, a thoughtful sound rumbling in his chest. “You know, I used to be a cop.”

Michael blinked, surprised. He studied the older man’s weathered profile, the firm set of his mouth. “You?”

“Long time ago. Small-town force.” Chuck’s lips quirked with something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You can trust me.”