Cabin Fever With My First Flame (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

2. Finn

Chapter two

Finn

Fighting fires and jumping from an airplane is easier than getting three boys to put down their game controllers to help me bring in extra firewood. After a few grumbles, Micah—the oldest of the three—is the first to relent and do the right thing. Since the eight-year-old twins, Jonah and Isaac, look up to their older brother, they quickly follow his lead.

“Let’s gear up and move out,” I tell them. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can get back to playing your game. And don’t forget, the three of you need to help me decorate the inside of the cabin for Christmas this evening.”

Micah nods and fights back his tears. At 16, he feels that it’s his duty to be a rock for his brothers. “Mom always loved decorating for the holidays. She had the tree up before Thanksgiving, and our house always looked like it threw up Christmas. She always roped us into making cookies and singing carols. I didn’t appreciate it then, but I’d give anything to be making gingerbread men with her right now.”

Since Micah isn’t a hugger, I pat him on the back. “I’m not much of a baker, but we can try to make some cookies tonight if you want. Who knows? It might be fun.”

Micah shakes his head and helps his younger brothers get dressed. “It was always Mom’s thing. You don’t have to try and replace her, Finn. We’ll create our own traditions now that we live with you.”

The four of us spend the next hour hauling wood from the shed at the edge of the property, loading up the quad ATVs with as much as they can hold. We’re in the process of unloading the last of the firewood when the walkie-talkie on my hip bursts with static followed by the fire chief’s clipped tone.

“Hollister, are you there? Come in, Hollister.”

I motion for the boys to stand on the porch and out of the weather, then press the talk button to reply. “This is Hollister. What’s up, Chief?”

“We have an emergency. There is a woman and her three children stuck in the storm not far from your location. The plows can’t keep up with the roads in town, let alone clear the highway. This storm is turning into a full-on blizzard, and you’re the only one close enough to help them,” he says.

I turn to face three boys who have the Hollister gene coursing through their veins. “Micah, I’ll need your assistance to drive the other ATV. Ugh! I can’t leave your brothers here alone.”

“We can help!” Jonah shouts, puffing out his chest.

“We can be brave, just like you!” Isaac adds.

I smile proudly at the three boys, who are practically bouncing on their toes, ready to jump into action. “Are you sure? It could be dangerous.”

Three heads of black hair bob in unison, their dark brown eyes gleaming with excitement. I press the talk button again. “Chief, let dispatch know that help is on the way.”

“Roger. Thanks, Finn. I know you’re taking some time off to spend with the boys and grieving the loss of…”

“It’s fine. We’re happy to help,” I reply, cutting him off. The holidays are going to be hard enough without the reminder that Jenny won’t be here with us.

After receiving the approximate location of the stranded family, we set off with Isaac as my copilot while Jonah rides with Micah. The highway isn’t far from us, about a mile away and on the other side of the mountain.

“Who would be stupid enough to drive in this weather and then run out of gas?” Isaac asks, having overhead the details that the Chief relayed to us.

“We don’t call people ‘stupid,’ Isaac. Accidents happen all the time.” I chastise. “In all fairness, the storm wasn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow and is going to be much worse than expected.”

When we crest the hill, the stranded vehicle comes into view. The snow is nearly two feet deep, with six inches covering the roof and hood of a food truck. The visibility is getting worse, and there isn’t much time to waste before it will be eight people stranded instead of four.

I don’t see anyone in the driver’s seat, so I peer inside the window and knock on the glass.

The three girls I can make out through the frosted window all scream when they see me. I chuckle since I can only imagine how a man in a black ski mask must look to them. “We’re here to rescue you, miladies. We got a call that you were in need of assistance.”

Micah stands on the front bumper as Isaac and Jonah climb onto the hood. Micah rolls his eyes at my attempt to put the girls at ease. He waves the girls over and then points to the ATVs parked at the top of the hill. “We’re your ride. Grab your stuff, and let’s go.”

I’m grateful that the mom doesn’t waste any time getting her kids squared away. She opens the door and jumps down, falling knee-deep in the snow. Quickly getting her feet under her, she turns toward her daughters. One by one, I help each of them down and pass them off to Micah. We get them situated in the quad runners before I return to help their mom.

The scarf covering the woman’s face falls, and the plump pink lips that I used to nip at on a daily basis curve upward. I stop in my tracks as I take in the beautiful sight of Bailey McNamara, now Bailey Johnson. I frown; the name Johnson feels like acid in the pit of my stomach.

Bailey turns around to see what has captivated my attention, not realizing that it’s her. She gives a quick shrug of her shoulders and then blows past me toward the ATVs. Once she’s situated, I hop in the driver’s seat only to feel a tap on my shoulder. She gives me her parent’s address, but I shake my head.

“No can do. Visibility will be zero within the next ten minutes, and it’s too dangerous to stay out here in the middle of a blizzard. Our cabin is on the other side of the hill, less than a mile away. You and your girls will be safe with us while we ride out the storm. Don’t worry, Bailey Bug. You’re in good hands.”

Bailey’s face contorts in confusion and then turns to mild disgust. “Finn?”

“In the flesh. I bet you thought you would never see me again?” I joke.

She doesn’t laugh. Instead, she mutters, “Hoped was more like it. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in California jumping out of airplanes and fighting forest fires?”

“I’ve been back for three months. I live here now with Micah, Isaac, and Jonah,” I tell her.

Isaac turns around in his seat to peer at Bailey. “When our mom died, Finn took us in but said ‘he needed all the help he could get.’ He moved us here because our Grandma and Grandpa live down the hill.”

Micah tears off ahead of us, most likely showing off for the pretty little blond in his back seat. I try not to laugh but fail miserably. He’s a Hollister to his core.

Bailey taps me on the shoulder again and leans forward so that her head is between Isaac and me. Her warm breath crystallizes in the air as she huffs. “Finn, we can’t stay with you. Please take us to my parents’ house.”

“Bailey Bug…”

“It’s Bailey. No ‘Bug,’” she corrects. “You lost the right to call me that when you left and never came back.”

“Why would I come back after….You know what? It doesn’t matter. We’ll leave the past where it belongs. Regardless, you’re stuck with us until the storm passes. It’s either that or you spend the next few days in your truck. Take it or leave it.”

Her eyes widen as big as saucers as she screeches, “A few days?”

I bark out another laugh, this one without any mirth. “Haven’t you heard? This storm is supposed to drop several feet of snow, and another one is right on its tail. When we get to the cabin, you can call Daniel and your parents and tell them that you’re safe and ‘snug as a bug in a rug.’”

“We don’t live with Daddy anymore,” says the little girl sitting next to Bailey. “He’s getting married on Christmas to some hoochie-mama.”

Bailey covers her daughter’s mouth. “Ava, we don’t call people ‘hoochie-mama.’ It’s not very nice.”

“But that’s what you said to Nana,” Ava replies, outing her mother. I doubt that Bailey had intended that particular conversation to be overheard, especially by tiny ears.

Bailey hugs her daughter apologetically. “I shouldn’t have, Sweetie. That was wrong of me. Delaney is, um, a very nice woman who will make your father very happy.”

The rest of the ride is ridden in silence as I think about the fact that Bailey is now single. I was the one who was supposed to make her happy, but I wasn’t gone even three months before I found out she chose my best friend over me. Bailey promised she’d wait for me, but it didn’t take long before she changed her mind.

As we pull up to the cabin, I force back the scowl that’s threatening to emerge. The colorful Christmas lights twinkle brightly and mock me, reminding me that this is the season for forgiveness and letting go of old hurts. I forgave Daniel and Bailey a long time ago, but seeing her again is like opening up a fresh wound.

“We should get inside,” I choke out as Micah and Jonah help their two passengers through the deep snow and onto the front porch. The stairs are barely discernable and are nearly covered under a blanket of white powder.

When Bailey and I make it to the front door, she sets down Ava and ushers her inside, leaving the two of us alone. She turns to me. “Thank you for rescuing us and providing a warm place for us to take shelter, Finn. We’ll try to stay out of your way as much as we can, but we’ll also do our part. We don’t want to be a burden, so put us to work. We have no problem earning our keep.”

I want to reach up and wipe the sadness from her eyes, but it hasn’t been my place to do so in 18 years. “It’s not a problem, and I’m glad we could help. As far as earning your keep, I don’t suppose you know how to cook now. I remember that you used to burn nearly everything.”

She giggles, the same tinkling sound that I remember. “Finn, I own a food truck and had a restaurant until a few months ago. I certainly hope that cooking is a skill I possess. If not, then I’ve disappointed more than half of Myrtle Beach and thousands of tourists.”

I smile wanly and place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her inside. If Bailey has ever disappointed anyone, it was me when she broke my heart. I look up toward the heavens and wonder if God is playing a joke on me or if this is Him giving us the gift of a second chance.