Page 117 of A Not So Merry Rescue

“Your cabin,” she screeches. “I left Keith. I didn’t know where else to go.” Her voice cracks.

I grab the phone from Willa. “There’s a key under the mat by the side door of the garage. Make yourself comfortable. We might be a little while, but I’ll send Dax over in case you need something. Are you okay?”

“No, not really. Thank you. I’m sorry to ruin your holiday?—”

I cut her off. “Nonsense.” I look over at Willa, a woman who crashed into my life at the most unexpected time, tilting my life on its axis, only righting itself when I realized she’s the one I’m meant to do life with. “It’s not a Christmas holiday if a Gibson doesn’t need my help. We’ll be there soon. Hold tight.”

Her relief is palpable, even over the phone. “Thank you, Beckett.”

Willa stands next to me. “I hope you don’t mind I’m going to revel in my Christmas gifts before we tackle your issues,” she admits with a laugh, the concern for her sister shining through.

“Yeah, sure, Willafred. Go be happy with your man while my life crumbles to shit. Take your time,” she deadpans.

“Love you too, Clementine,” Willa calls out, hanging up the phone before any rebuttal from Clem. “Where were we?”

“You were asking when we can move in,” I remind.

“Oh, right. So, when can we?” Her sister’s issues temporarily forgotten, she hooks her arms around my waist.

“It’s move-in ready. We’ll need to order some furniture and bring over what we’re keeping from the cabin, if anything.”

“We should start fresh. New everything, so it’s ours instead of mine or yours. Maybe we hit up the stores this week, move in by New Year’s?”

I chuckle. “It might take longer than a week to get everything delivered.”

Her enthusiasm falls. “Hmm, good point. We should still go shopping, see what we can find, and get a better timeline.”

“I thought I’d have a harder time convincing you this was a good idea.”

“No, you didn’t.” She calls me on my bullshit. “But if you’re in the mood to argue . . .”

“What I’m in the mood for is to take you upstairs to our new bedroom and christen it and our upgraded relationship status.”

Willa pushes to her toes, swiping her lips across mine. “That’s a start. While you’re at it, work on putting a baby in me.”

“If you insist . . .”

She finagles out of my grasp, pausing in the doorway to peer at me over her shoulder. “It would be fitting, knocking me up on your favorite holiday.”

“It would be the jingle bells on Santa’s sleigh.”

Cheesy as the line is, Willa smiles brighter than the extravagant holiday display at the cabin.

Perhaps it wasn’t fate that led Willa to crash in Winterberry Junction.

Perhaps it was truly the magic of Christmas.