Page 34

Chapter thirty-three

You’re stuck with me now

Charlie

T he muted daylight sneaks through the curtains, stabbing at my skull like a personal attack. I groan, burying my face deeper into the pillow, trying to escape the brightness and the tiny hammers pounding in my head.

I shift to find a more comfortable position, when I realize there’s a warm, solid body beside me. Memories of last night trickle back, and with them comes a rush of embarrassment.

Shit. I sang karaoke. Not just sang, but belted out “I’m a Survivor” like it was my final audition for The Voice . And then... fuck. I tried to ask him if he loved me.

But then other memories filter through: the way Jake held me close, steady and grounded, refusing to say those three words while I was drunk. Because he wanted it to be real. For me to remember them. That thought alone makes me realize how certain I am about him.

I crack one eye open, hoping Jake’s still asleep so I can slip away to wallow in my humiliation alone.

But no. Of course he’s awake. Propped up on one elbow, grinning down at me with that devilish look in his eyes, like he’s been waiting for me to wake up just to torment me.

“Morning, Lady Lightning,” he says, his voice annoyingly chipper.

I pull the blanket over my head. “Don’t talk so loud.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through the mattress. “Feeling rough?”

“ Like death,” I mumble, voice muffled by the covers. “Tell me I didn’t embarrass myself too much.”

“Hmm…” His hand slides up my side, warm and gentle. “Shall I start with your stellar karaoke performance or the part where you loudly declared I’m your boyfriend to half the bar?”

I peek out from under the covers, shooting him a glare. “I did not.”

“Oh, you absolutely did. And then you asked me if I loved you.”

My face flushes, and I immediately hide under the blanket again. “Can we just pretend last night didn’t happen?”

Jake laughs, pulling the covers back down. “No way. Highlight of my week.”

I groan dramatically, covering my face with my hands.

His teasing fades into something softer as he takes my hands away, his touch tender. “Hey, it wasn’t that bad. You were just enthusiastic.”

I squint up at him. “You didn’t… record the singing, did you?”

“Nope," he pauses with a grin. "But Zoe might have.”

I close my eyes. “Kill me now.”

Jake leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Can’t. We’ve got a cabin to get to.”

I blink, trying to remember what day it is. “Right. The cabin…”

Christmas at Jake’s cabin with the kids is the only thing motivating me to crawl out of this nest of self-pity. But right now, the idea of moving feels impossible.

“I brought you water and Tylenol.” He nods toward the nightstand.

“You’re a saint.” I reach for the water, gulping it down with the pills.

Jake’s about to say something when the door bursts open, and two little whirlwinds come charging into the room.

“Mama! Jake!” Meadow launches herself onto the bed with all the grace of a small elephant.

Noah follows, a little more composed, but just as eager. “Are we going to the cabin today?”

I sit up slowly, trying not to aggravate the throbbing in my head. “Yes, we’re going to the cabin today.”

Meadow notices Jake beside me and tilts her head curiously. “Did you have a sleepover, Jake?”

J ake chuckles, sliding his hand to rest on my back. “Yeah, Princess. I stayed over to make sure your mama was okay.”

Noah looks between us, then at me, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay, Mum?”

I wince, but Jake jumps in smoothly. “Your mom’s just tired from singing karaoke.”

Noah’s eyes go wide. “You sang?”

“Not just sang,” Jake adds, shooting me a playful grin. “She rocked the place.”

Noah and Meadow both giggle, and I groan, leaning into Jake’s side. “You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Jake replies, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

Meadow climbs into my lap, her little face full of concern. “Are you okay, Mama?”

I smile down at her, smoothing her hair. “I’m fine, honey bee. Just need some more sleep.”

“No more sleep!” Noah protests. “We have to go to the cabin!”

Jake chuckles, standing and offering me a hand. “Come on, Charlie. Let’s get you fed and packed up. Then we can hit the road.”

I let him pull me to my feet, wobbling slightly as the kids run off, already chattering about the cabin.

Jake keeps his hand on my back as we head downstairs. “You know, if you wanna rest longer, I can handle the packing.”

I shake my head, fighting off the lingering hangover. “I’ll be fine. Just need caffeine and something to eat.”

“Greasy food and coffee, coming right up.”

The smell of bacon fills the air not long after, and the sound of the kids running around lifts my spirits. With a giant mug of coffee in hand, I slowly start to feel human again.

Jake keeps an eye on me, making sure I’m eating and drinking water, and every time our eyes meet, I see that warmth, that tenderness in his gaze that makes my heart thunder.

“I’m never drinking again,” I announce, popping a piece of bacon into my mouth.

Jake chuckles, leaning over the counter. “You say that now…”

I swat at him playfully, but let my hand rest on his head as my fingers tangle in his hair. “Thanks for looking after me last night.”

“Always,” he says, kissing my palm.

Despite the embarrassment, despite the hangover, I feel lucky. I have Jake, my kids, and we’re about to spend Christmas together in a beautiful setting. Everything feels right.

***

The road stretches ahead, winding through snow-covered forests and towering pines. The kids are fast asleep in the backseat, their small heads bobbing with each gentle movement of the car. Jake's hands are steady on the wheel, his focus on the road as we drive deeper into the mountains.

It’s been about an hour since we left Denver, and the landscape has transformed into something breathtaking. Snow blankets everything, making the world feel still and quiet, like we’re driving through a postcard. I glance over at Jake, noting the way his jaw is set, his brow furrowed slightly as he navigates the turns.

“You really love it up here, don’t you?” I ask, watching as his expression softens, gaze briefly flicking to me before returning to the road.

“Yeah,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s my haven. I’ve been coming here for years, bought it early in my career. It’s the one place where I can just be me.”

I rest my hand on his thigh, offering a silent connection. "Everyone needs a place like that."

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes still focused ahead. “I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he admits. “It’s always been mine. But I wanted to share it with you. And the kids.”

A warmth spreads through me, settling deep in my chest. “That means everything. To all of us.”

He nods, but there’s a weight in his silence, something unspoken still hanging between us. The road winds higher, the mountains rising around us like giants. I can feel him retreating into his thoughts, so I squeeze his knee gently.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He exhales slowly. “I’ve been thinking about my mom.”

The sadness in his voice tugs at me, and I give him space to continue. He’s mentioned her struggles with depression before, but I know it’s a sensitive subject.

“She’s better now, but it’s still there, you know? That weight. She’s never come to a game, never feels up to it. Too many people, too much pressure.”

My heart aches for him. I know how much he’s wanted her to be part of his life, to share in his successes. “That’s hard. But she knows how much you love her, how much you’ve done for her.”

He shrugs, the gesture small but heavy. “I hope so. Sometimes, I feel like no matter what I do, I could do more. I’ve offered to bring her to games, to have her in the WAGs box with Claire and Tamara, but she’s never felt brave enough. I just want her to know she’s not alone.”

“You’re a good son, Jake. Don’t doubt that.”

He nods, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I’m trying. And I guess that’s all I can do.”

I squeeze his knee again and he reaches down to run his thumb in circles over my knuckles. We fall into silence, but it’s a comfortable one this time. The cabin is getting closer, and with it, the promise of a few days away from the world.

As the road flattens out, we turn onto a private driveway, and I spot the cabin nestled at the foot of the mountains. Snow blankets everything in sight, untouched except for the road we’re carving through. The cabin looks like something out of a storybook—warm, inviting, with smoke curling from the chimney.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to check on the kids, who are now wide-eyed and staring out at the snow as we pull up.

Meadow’s little hands press against the window, her breath fogging the glass as she whispers, “Mama, look! It’s snowing ! Can we play?”

Noah leans forward, taking in the view with wide eyes. “It’s so white . I’ve never seen sno w like this before.” He reaches for the door handle, unable to hold back any longer.

“Hold up, bud,” Jake says with a chuckle, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “Let’s make sure we’ve got all our snow gear on. Don’t want you turning into ice cubes before we’ve even unloaded the car.”

Both kids groan, but the excitement in their faces is contagious. Christmas in New Zealand was always warm—beach days, barbecues. This snowy wonderland is new for them, and seeing their joy makes my heart happy.

As we step out of the car, the cold mountain air bites my cheeks. I wrap my arms around myself for a moment, letting my breath cloud in front of me as I take it all in.

The landscape is breathtaking, the snow-glittered hills leading up to towering peaks under the fading light. There’s something about it that tugs at a memory, a familiarity in the way the mountains cradle the valley.

The smell of pine and the crispness of the air brings me back to the camp where Jake and I first met. It’s a little like that—vast and full of possibility—and for a moment, I feel like we’re those kids again, staring out at the world with our whole lives ahead of us.

Jake wraps an arm around me, pulling me close as we look out over the snow-covered valley.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I murmur, looking out.

He glances down at me, eyes scanning my face. “It is…”

I lean into him, my cheek grazing his shoulder. “It reminds me of camp. The mountains, the quiet.”

Jake’s lips brush against my temple. “That’s what I thought when I bought it. It reminded me of camp.”

“And now you’re sharing it with us.”

Before Jake can respond, the kids come barreling out of the car, bundled up and racing toward the nearest pile of snow. Meadow immediately flops down, kicking her legs to make a snow angel, while Noah forms a perfect snowball and aims it directly at Jake.

Jake dodges, laughing. “Hey, easy there, buddy! You wanna start a snowball fight already?”

Noah giggles, scooping up another handful of snow, and before long both kids are shrieking and running through the snow, their laughter echoing through the valley. I watch them, my heart full at the simple joy of the moment.

Jake turns to me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you say we leave them out here for a bit? I’ll show you around the cabin.”

“Trying to get me alone, Brooks?”

“Maybe.” He holds out his hand. “But I did promise you a grand tour.”

Inside, the warmth envelops me instantly—the smell of cedar and pine, the crackling of the fire. The cabin is stunning. It feels lived-in, not like some flashy vacation rental, but it still has all the perks.

The large stone fireplace dominates one wall, and plush furniture is arranged around it in a way that invites you to curl up with a blanket and never leave. The wooden beams overhead give the space a rustic, homey feel, and there’s a Christmas tree, still undecorated, standing tall in the corner.

Jake steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his breath warm against my neck. “The housekeeper came by earlier, so everything’s set. We’ve got food, drinks... and I figured we could all decorate the tree together.”

My heart melts at the thoughtfulness. “That sounds perfect.”

We stand there holding each other, the soft glow of the fire casting a warm light over the room. There’s a peace here, a sense of belonging.

Jake pulls back slightly, his lips brushing my ear. “Think we should go rescue the kids before they turn into snowmen?”

I laugh, turning in his arms to face him. “We probably should.”

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, and I feel lit—the warmth, the love, the quiet promise of everything that’s still to come.