That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe (Abieville Love Stories #4)

Chapter 50

Chapter Fifty

Three

Here’s the thing: you haven’t felt real, pound-your-fist frustration until the love of your life is three hours away, and in a position to—quite literally—decide NOT to come back to you. Ever. Or maybe this is a totally common occurrence in life, and everybody’s felt this frustration.

What do I know?

Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure annoying stuff like this happens all the time in Bridgerton . Thanks to Nella, I’ve seen enough of that show to know those dudes suffer for love. And they don’t get to wear joggers and a hoodie while they’re doing it.

Still.

It’s Christmas Eve, and Sara’s probably at the Windsor Club by now. She could be talking to her parents right this minute, about her future, about us. But I can only guess what’s going on, because I—probably shortsightedly—asked her not to call or text tonight.

I figured she should focus on the gala. The fundraiser part, and her folks. So I encouraged her not to think about me at all. I may not be a duke, but I am chivalrous.

In fact, if it weren’t for this stupid concussion, I would’ve insisted on going to the city with her. Then I’d be there by her side, holding her hand, offering my support. No matter what.

Instead, this chivalrous guy is stuck back in Abieville feeling … helpless. I’m dying to know what’s happening. I’m dying to defend her. But I won’t blow up her phone asking for updates.

I did almost call her dad, though.

As it turns out, a man who manages a high-profile law firm and runs an annual charity event at the Windsor is not all that hard to reach. Or maybe I was just that convincing when I spoke to the answering service taking calls on Christmas Eve. Either way, I had Charles Hathaway’s number, and I was all set to contact him when it hit me.

If I jumped in and talked to Sara’s dad first, I’d be taking away all her agency. Stealing her power before she has the chance to take control. Not to mention, I kind of need her to want to be with me, not end up with me because I burned some catastrophic bridge tonight, leaving her no other option.

So I’m back to pacing, but I’d rather do that over at the lake house. Which is why I’m going over there again.

What can I say? I miss Sara. I miss our Christmas tree. I miss Henry. I might even visit the flamingoes in the storage room when I get there. But don’t worry. I’m not going to drive myself. I know the rules, and I don’t want to poke the bear that is Sara Hathaway when she’s playing nursemaid.

So I reached out to Carver Townsend instead.

He agreed to swing by, pick me up, and deliver me to the lake house. I figure it’s a win-win, because I’ve got a few things I want to get off my chest. Might as well bum a ride at the same time.

A group of carolers just left my house after singing “Joy to the World,” so I’m already at the door, watching for Carver’s patrol car. When his headlights beam around the corner, I head out to meet him, my workbag in tow .

“I can’t thank you enough,” I say, climbing in to ride shotgun. “Seriously, man. Coming out on Christmas Eve is above and beyond. I owe you one.”

“No problem.” Carver checks his mirrors before making a U-turn and heading back toward Main Street. Every house and shop in town is brightly lit tonight, but the streets are mostly empty. “The sheriff’s with his family,” Carver says, tossing his hat into the back seat. “Makes sense I’d be the one working. I’m the only single guy at the station. For now.”

“Not dating anyone? No one special in your life?”

He tips his chin. “Now those are two different questions.”

“I guess you’re right about that. Either way, I owe you an apology.” I flash him my best I’m sorry look.

Carver scoffs. “What for?”

“The past couple times we saw each other, I was kinda off. Definitely not acting like myself.” I suck air in through my teeth. “But it wasn’t you, man. It was definitely me. Or maybe the concussion. I don’t know for sure. Still, that’s no excuse.”

At Bridge Street, Carver hangs a right taking us to the backroad that leads to the Hathaways’. There aren’t any street lights along this stretch, so he slows, scanning for deer like we all do here.

“Funny you should say that.” He actually chuckles. “Because I was gonna say sorry to you for pretty obviously flirting with your girl.” He pulls down his brow, but keeps his eyes on the road. “The thing is, I’ve got pretty terrible radar when it comes to women. And over at Humboldt’s you said you Sara were just friends. Then you were both so freaked out about the kissing wall … I guess I believed you two weren’t a thing.”

“I get it.” I run a hand over my head, huffing out a breath. “I was trying to believe me too.”

“Anyway, as dense as I am,” Carver says, “I realized about ten seconds after you two showed up at the station to help out Sully that there was something going on with you for real.”

“Heh.” My shoulders hitch. “I won’t deny that anymore. ”

“Good.” More chuckling from Carver. “So what’s the deal, anyway?”

“It’s kind of a long story.” I bob my head. “We’ll be at the house before I could get halfway through.”

“Well, whatever’s going on, I’m happy for you.” He casts a quick glance my way before returning his focus to the road. “You look happy.”

I am.

“I’d love to find a good woman someday too,” he continues. “I’d settle down in a heartbeat.”

“Really?” I arch a brow. “I’m sure the right one’s just waiting around the corner.”

“The thing is, I’ve been stuck on someone for years.” He sighs. “No one else compares, to be honest. I can’t stop wanting her, but I haven’t been able to make anything happen with us.”

“Oof. That’s hard. Anyone I know?” I cock my chin, huff out a laugh. “If she lives in this town, that’s a guarantee. Maybe I can help.”

“Thanks.” He grimaces. “But that might get awkward.”

“Why?”

“She’s not interested in me at all. And…” He takes a couple beats. “She’s your sister.”

Whoa.

“Nella?” The way all the air leaves my lungs, our car might as well have just hit a buck on the road.

“You got another sister?” Carver presses out a laugh. “If so, please introduce us. Maybe I’ll have a better shot with her than Nell.” He ducks his head, offering me a sad half smile. “Like I said. Bad with women.”

Oh, Carver. You have no idea.

Here, I’ve been worried about protecting my sister’s heart, while Carver—the very same man she’s been dreaming about for years—actually wants her as well?

Incredible.

A rope of happiness for Nella tethers inside me. Sure, I’m her older brother, and I’m familiar with the touch-my-sister-and-die cliche . But that’s a role better suited to the guys on Bridgerton , I think. I won’t be dueling with Carver over Nella anytime soon.

If only she knew …

“Listen,” I start to say, but I just as quickly stop myself. Revealing my sister’s true feelings to her lifelong crush is definitely not my assignment. In fact, it might be grounds for justifiable homicide.

Either way, I can be sure to drop some hints when Nella’s back from her cruise.

“So.” Carver glances my way, as we approach the lake house. “You got any advice for me?”

“I sure do.” My mouth goes crooked. “Don’t give up on her, man.”