Merry Mended Hearts (Santa’s Radio Christmas Romance #1)

25. Grace

GRACE

I barely made it to my room before the tears came. My breathing was choppy and shallow, my face a mashed wreck. At least the majority of the guests had gone to the bonfire. I would have been mortified if any of them witnessed my pathetic dash.

The instant I closed the door behind me, I sank onto the bed. Heartache, confusion, and emotional whiplash were not the purposes of this trip.

What was I wallowing for? I should be glad Boone had broken things off for good. That would make things so much easier. I could go home, go on more of Mom’s blind dates, and stare at a computer screen all day for the rest of my life in the most boring job anyone could devise.

I groaned and sank back against the pillow, taking the second one to hold it over my face. The thought of going back to that lonely cubicle grew heavier with every passing moment.

I didn’t want to go back to that life.

Though I’d only been in Montana for a handful of days, that time was enough to let me know I wanted something different. Not just a relationship with a lady-killer like Boone. I wanted to live somewhere I could breathe—really breathe. Where I could make my own decisions without Mom second-guessing everything I did. Where I didn’t have to deal with customers shouting at me only to go home to an empty apartment.

Boone and Harper’s Inn had presented another side of life I’d never considered before. I didn’t usually spend much time outside, but here? This was a side where being out in nature was as necessary as breathing—even when it was cold—where it was okay to slow down and enjoy the world around me.

If I was going to be staring at a computer screen for my job, I wanted it to be while writing one of the many books crashing around in my brain and demanding release. I wanted a different life.

“Crying about it won’t do any good,” I grumbled, fighting the trembling in my lower lip and wiping the tears from my cheeks. “Ugh, now, I sound like my mother.”

As if sensing as much over wavelengths and the miles between us, my phone chirped from where I’d tossed it onto the bed. I sniffed and scanned for the caller. Mom’s name appeared.

For a fleeting moment, I’d hoped it was Boone, but that was ridiculous. He didn’t have my number. Nor had he asked me for it.

“Stupid,” I told myself.

How could I have let myself get so attached to him when he clearly didn’t want anything to do with me? He’d only come to return my notebook to me.

Sure—and ruin the entire surrounding landscape in irreversible ways with snowmobile tracks because he told me he couldn’t let me go.

The memory had a physical effect on my heart, making it squeeze a little too tightly in my chest and drop a few extra beats while it was at it. I wiped my cheeks, staring at the flowered chair in the corner.

I didn’t get it. How could he think the time we’d shared together meant nothing? What scared him so badly?

He’d said it had something to do with the magic, but so what if that was what brought us together? Was the idea of being with me that bad?

I refused to believe this overarching obsession with all things Boone was fake. If that were the case, I wouldn’t be a sobbing mess right now. If this was only magic-induced, then these feelings would stop.

I ignored my phone long enough that the call ended, and Mom made a second attempt.

Rolling my eyes, sniffing the excess dripping from my nose from crying so hard, I swiped the screen and braced myself for a lecture. I’d forgotten to let Mom know I wouldn’t make it home in time. Undoubtedly, this was the purpose of that call.

“Hi, Mom.”

“He’s here with a date!” Mom fumed without even saying hello.

I blinked. Mom’s exclamation was enough to shake me to attention. I rolled on my back and stared upward. “Who is?”

“Terry! He was supposed to be here to meet you, but instead, he brought someone with him. I guess this woman is his girlfriend, and he’s been dating her for a while.”

Hm. This sounded a little too much like a romance novel to me. Was it possible that Terry hadn’t wanted to meet me and so had fabricated a date just for this dinner? I couldn’t help smiling at the thought.

“It’s okay, Mom.”

“It’s not okay! If that was the case, then why would Uncle Mike tell me otherwise? Why not tell me he was already taken so I didn’t get my hopes up?”

I glanced at the clock as the humor of this whole situation struck like a chime. Laughter bubbled up my throat.

“What’s so funny?” Mom demanded.

I couldn’t answer. I was laughing too hard. I laughed and laughed, and the sound was so humorless and cold, it struck even me. According to the clock, it was about time for Mom’s Christmas Eve party, and for the expected guests to come.

I hadn’t given her gathering much thought since being at Boone’s, but I let the laughter overtake me. The release was exactly what I needed right now.

The radio was behind this. It had to be.

I waited for the chiming sound to alert me of its magical interference, but nothing came. I glanced hopefully toward the window, waiting for the sound of a snowmobile to alert me of Boone’s changing his mind, but nothing came.

Maybe I’d been wrong about everything. What if this wasn’t the radio at all, but further proof of how unwantable I was? I’d said it before—rejection was my lot in life. This was no exception. I’d been rejected by a man I hadn’t even wanted to meet in the first place!

“Even though we’re all wondering why your plane never landed, at least you didn’t rush home for disappointment.” Mom sounded disappointed enough for us both.

No, I had plenty of that around here.

I’d told Boone I was unwantable. While the rose of what I wanted was lovely and alluring, it was unreachable through all the thorns. Rejection stung everywhere I touched.

“It’s okay, Mom. Really. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know, but a snowstorm hit this area and closed the pass leading from the inn back to the town. From what I hear, it won’t be open until tomorrow.”

“Do planes fly on Christmas?” Mom’s skepticism was evident.

I was touched. “You really want me there, don’t you?”

Even without the prospect of setting me up on a blind date?

“You’re my daughter,” Mom said as if this was the most obvious thing. Which it was. “It’s not the same without you here. I thought I’d be okay with you being gone for the holiday, but I’m not.”

“Mom,” I said with resignation.

Before the sleigh ride, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the guts to say what I needed to say. But I was tired of feeling like I was walking on eggshells. I’d always considered my mom to be one of my best friends, and most of the time I loved being around her. But right now, I felt so torn, I couldn’t hold my feelings back any longer.

“You know how restricting my job is and how badly I want to write full-time.”

“I know, honey.”

“I’m a grown woman. It’s not selfish for me to take my only time off to go after my goals.”

There was a pause on the other line. “Gracie, you know that’s not what I meant.”

I sat up and crossed my legs. “Do I, though? Every conversation I’ve had with you since I got here has been one big guilt trip. I feel like you don’t care that I’ve been having the time of my life here.”

Up until tonight, anyway.

“Stephanie didn’t even know I wasn’t in Arizona when I called her. She assumed I’d be there because you were already banking on the fact that you could get me to come home. That’s not fair. Your happiness shouldn’t trump mine, and it wasn’t fair for you to guilt trip me into leaving the present that you gave me.”

Mom was quiet. Too quiet.

“I came here to work on my book, and it seems like everything has been amazing and upside-down all at once.” My throat was constricted. I inhaled long and hard, trying to keep control of my emotions when they wanted to take over.

“I’m sorry,” Mom finally said.

I sniffed.

Mom’s voice changed into a deeper, more sincere tone, and she exhaled. “You’re absolutely right. I’m so sorry. I’ve been selfish. I didn’t mean to put pressure on you to ruin your trip. Forget I said anything. Can you still stay? Or have you already booked your flight home?”

“It’s booked,” I said, my breath rattling as I tried to get it under control. “I don’t think there’s any changing it now, not after all the trouble the airline took to accommodate those of us who got snowed in here.”

Maybe I should have just stayed home. I wouldn’t have had the front seat on this emotional rollercoaster with Boone if I’d stayed home.

“I’m sorry, Gracie Goose. Can you please forgive me?”

The admission touched me to the core. “Of course, I forgive you. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey. I’ll try to be more sensitive to your needs, but I am glad you’re coming home. I know I’ve been terribly selfish, but I mean it when I say I’ve missed you.”

The admission struck me. This was exactly what I needed to hear. It was like a wake-up call.

I had a family who loved me, a family who would never let me down no matter what else was going wrong in my life. Sure, Mom and I had had a misunderstanding, but I knew when it came down to it, Mom would always be there for me.

Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to leave Harper’s Inn behind.

“Thanks, Mom. I miss you, too.”

“Oh, sweetie.”

“I do. Thanks for loving me and wanting me around.” The words made me lower lips quiver. I fought away the emotions all over again. Stupid rejection.

Mom didn’t respond right away. Seconds ticked by before she said, “Honey, where is this coming from?”

I sniffed. “Just my mood.”

I wasn’t going to go into my drama with Boone Harper this weekend. Not right now. I was barely keeping my heartache at bay, and letting it all out now would only make the tears gush all over again. Not to mention how giddy-excited Mom would be.

She would want every detail. What he looked like. Things he’d said. If he’d kissed me or not. All things I couldn’t stop rehashing in my brain and didn’t want to talk about.

We said goodbye, and I hung up with thoughts of Boone rampaging through me.

Men in fiction were so much better than men in real life. The real-life ones were confusing and sullen and amazing; they kissed like the glow of moonlight on water. And when I’d had his attention, when he’d opened up to me, kept me warm, shared part of himself and his difficult past with me, it had made me feel like I was soaring.

He’d made me feel more special than the sparkle on snow.

That was probably why his retreat and rejection felt like he’d ripped my heart right out.

No, I was right. Real life men were both hassle and heartache. It was definitely better to stick to book boyfriends. Characters in books always seemed to be more resilient than I was. And that way, after they had their drama, I could close the pages and leave them to it.

I strode to the closet where I’d placed my clothes and searched for my swimsuit. There was one thing I needed—or at least wanted—to do before I left. Fortunately, with everyone gone, the hot tub was empty.

After changing and traipsing to the deck out back, I braved the freezing winter air on my bare skin long enough to dip myself into the water’s engulfing warmth. It was almost too hot at first in contrast to the cold, but soon, I adjusted and soaked in the hot water.

More time passed as I braved the cold once more to head back inside and changed into my pajamas. And then I wrote.

Emotions always fed my writing, and I cashed in the experiences of being at America’s North Pole, filling page after page on my laptop, transferring the notes I’d written in my notebook to the screen, letting myself get lost in the story so I didn’t have to think about how badly my own story was going.