For My Own: A Contemporary Christmas Anthology

by Alison Packard, Shari Mikels, Kinley Baker

  “Yes, we know. He donates to children. You help children. Griff really is perfect for you on paper.” Janey sounded completely dismayed.

  Hannah allowed herself to grin. Some of her tension drained away. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone. All this time I knew there was something about him. Something wonderful.”

  “Wait a second,” Cate interjected. “Are you sure he’s surprising you with this?”

  “You’re supposed to be on his side,” Hannah complained, not fond of the upset in her new and improved mood. This was something Griff would do for her. It had to be compared to the intolerable alternative of him not trusting her with this.

  “There was obviously something else to him if you fell in love with him before finding this out,” Janey said.

  “Of course there was. But doesn’t this make it so much better? I wonder what he’s waiting for.”

  Janey went uncharacteristically quiet. “Hannah. Maybe he doesn’t want anyone to know. Cate’s right to ask the question.”

  “Please don’t ruin this for me.” She tried to hide the sob that bubbled in her throat. She really needed this to be true.

  Janey pursed her lips. “If he wanted you to know he would have told you.”

  She chose optimism over negativity. Anything to not break down in front of her sisters, which would completely mortify her. Plus, she was nervous about what her sisters would do if they knew Griff made her cry. “I’ll have to figure out a way to thank him.”

  “You’re not listening to us anymore.”

  She couldn’t. “I’ll see you later.” She focused on escaping to her room to look for her letters. This Christmas was starting to look up. Things had to turn up.

  A few hours later, Hannah glared at her silent phone on the kitchen table, unable to shake her unease. No word yet from Griff. They’d come to terms, but she was still worried about where they’d left things, despite her confidence and optimism in front of her sisters.

  He did have a job and she couldn’t expect him to be at her beck and call. She was wavering back and forth between annoyance and being completely charmed. She found herself lingering over the anonymous donor letters she’d kept, which were now splayed in front of her.

  Even with the thankfulness she forced herself to feel toward him, she couldn’t stop the stabs of disappointment. Maybe the root of her disillusionment was that he’d been keeping something this huge from her. But they’d just talked about this. It would take time for them to get to know each other. It would take time for the trust. She was impatient. She wanted their life together to start already.

  She picked up another donation letter from the table and read it, searching for some hint that these were his words. They held the familiar elegant edge she couldn’t connect to Griff.

  The man in the letters was a stranger. She read the words and still got a hesitant glow over the fact she’d chosen a man who cared this much about others.

  She picked up a letter from last year. Footsteps thudded behind her, too heavy to be one of her sisters. She whirled around in her chair.

  Griff came up short in the entranceway. “What are you doing?” Lines spread from his stern mouth.

  There was no explanation for the letters all over the table.

  “How did you get in here?”

  “One of your sisters. Why do you look so guilty?” His expression turned thunderous, and his hands fisted. “What are those? Love letters?”

  He came closer then and snatched one up.

  “Of course not. They’re from my anonymous holiday donor. I was going through them to see if there were any clues to indicate who wrote them. I’m curious.” So much for honesty, but she couldn’t reveal she knew the truth this way.

  His expression could only be defined as suspicious. “You don’t know who sponsors the pageant?”

  She shook her head, desperate to throw him off. She was slowly putting together a plan for a big reveal in her mind. At the kitchen table was anticlimactic to say the least. She owed him more than that.

  “That’s why I called him anonymous.” As soon as the lie left her lips, she felt terrible.

  He studied her for another long second. “Are you mooning over these letters?”

  How the hell did he know? “I certainly am not—”

  “You don’t even know him.” He dropped the paper on the table, obviously disgusted.

  “He donates for the sake of the children.”

  “He’s probably a sixty-year-old man.”

  “He is not.”

  “You’re defending him. Unbelievable.”

  “Why is this making you so angry?” She was kind of amazed.

  He stared at her again. His alternating expressions showed he warred between two life paths. “I think I’m jealous?” The sentence escaped as a question.

  She smiled, immensely relieved. “You’re jealous of a man I’ve never met in my life?”

  He shifted his stance. “I choose not to answer that question.”

  She leapt to her feet. She pressed up against him. “I’m sorry for mooning over him. The pageant is just really important to me.”

  “I know.”

  “Tell me you’re coming.”

  “No.”

  She pulled back, pouting. “What?”

  “I’m not going to the pageant.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I don’t care what you’re saying. You’re coming.”

  “It’s not happening, Hannah.”

  “It’s so totally happening. I expect you to be there.”

  “You’re going to be disappointed.”

  “No, I’m not. You’ll pull through and you’ll show up.” She wasn’t budging on this. If he wanted to make a life with her, he’d support her when it mattered. “Just like if you need a hand at the tree farm, I’ll be there to help.”

  He leaned forward into her. “It’s not the same.”

  She avoided his kiss. “It’s exactly the same. You’ll realize that. You’ll make the right decision.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “There’s no point in arguing anymore, because you will. Now let’s do something more fun.” She kissed him to stop talking about feelings. If he could do that to her, she could toss it right back in his face. He would support her. They’d support each other. The pageant and her big reveal would help cement that fact. They had to. And she would learn about trees, even though that was something she’d never imagined before she’d decided on Griff.

  Chapter Seven

  The day of the pageant, Griff kicked back on his deck and watched his trees. The sun sunk into the horizon at its own steady speed. This was the life and all a man needed. He was perfectly fine here alone. The only trouble was an inconvenient sense of guilt.

  He wasn’t going to the damn pageant. He wasn’t. Hannah might be the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but he would run eighteen miles before he ever sat through the madness of children, singing off-key, in costumes that prevented them from moving their arms.

  If they were his own kids, he might suffer through it. Only if they were his kids. But then, no son or daughter of his would sing off-key. While Hannah would never let their kids wear anything but the best costumes, Griff would make sure their kids could move their arms.

  He sat back and sighed. There were a few problems with his logic. If he didn’t go to the damn pageant, Hannah would be mad. She’d be more than that too. Probably hurt and she might even do that crying thing he couldn’t help but cave to despite it being the fakest thing he’d ever seen.

  Taking a sip from his water bottle, he forced himself to calm down. If he didn’t go to the pageant, Hannah might not marry him. There would be no children. Or a wife. The statistical probability of finding another woman he wanted in his life wasn’t in his favor, and the person would never live up to Hannah. They’d never annoy him as much, amuse him as much, or make the whole prim thing work in the bedroo
m. He was addicted to the prim.

  He sighed again. They wouldn’t be Hannah, and the woman had worked herself into his life, bypassing all his insecurities and doubts from his past. He was glad he’d spent so much time watching her before making his move. He’d learned a lot about her, and he wouldn’t have been equipped to tangle with her without some help.

  Since he’d spent a long time observing her, he did know her. The more he knew her, the more he liked her. The more he could see her in his life for good. He knew his Hannah. He sat back heavily. He also knew he was going to the damn pageant. The things a man did for love.

  He paused. Did he love her? Probably.

  Something still nagged at him. Was Hannah in love with her anonymous donor? She didn’t know it was Griff, but she was smitten with the guy in the letters. Did money and giving matter that much to her?

  Flashes of his mother always intruded with these questions. His father hadn’t known his mother would bleed him dry either. As many wonderful women as he’d met in his life, there was one fact that would never change. The mother who’d pretended to raise him had always valued a dollar more than family. Giving for the credit wasn’t his thing.

  Hannah had a big heart. Part of him still worried. He’d never forgive himself if he ended up like his father, desperately trying to impress a woman who would never see him as anything more than what he could give her.

  * * *

  Hannah thought she might be a little high on holiday spirit. But this was the best pageant ever. Well, except for when her mother organized it, but that was an impossible bar to reach. They were four minutes away from the end, and the audience was mostly awake. She only spotted three people full-out sleeping, and that was definitely less than last year.

  Plus, she was just about to put her big reveal into motion to thank Griff for everything he’d done for the town. Nerves were making her slightly nauseous. But she was also reassured. She could see him in the back. He’d come. What had started as a shaky winter season was turning out to be better.

  The kids came yelling and hollering off the stage. She didn’t even shush them, she was so damn proud. They all beamed, obviously pleased with themselves. This was the warm sense of accomplishment she waited for every season. She glowed with festive joy, even while her gut churned.

  She took center stage for the last time until next year. The audience, protected under the tent and comforted by heaters brought out into the square, shifted in their seats. Gentle snow fell in the background, which added a picturesque, romantic view.

  “Thank you so much for coming.” Applause broke out. She smiled, and her gaze connected with Griff’s. His lips curved. For real. He’d survived the pageant, and he wasn’t even scowling. She loved him so much.

  “I’ll let you all get home soon. I just wanted to say thanks and give credit to the person responsible for this pageant for the past five years. Griff Green.”

  There was a stretch of silence. Like a surprised breath. People started clapping and peering around from their seats.

  Hannah focused on Griff. His expression was... super pissed.

  Her stomach plunged. Nausea billowed up her throat again.

  She attempted a smile though, trying to salvage the situation.

  “I thought he could come up here.” Her voice shook. Heat bled into her cheeks. This all suddenly seemed like not her best ever idea. Like maybe she’d made a big mistake. She should have considered his feelings in this, but she’d been too focused on preventing her own hurt.

  Then, he stood. Her hope fluttered to life. He was mad, but he wasn’t going to let her down. Instead of turning toward the stage, he strode toward the exit. He left. There wasn’t even a door slamming for dramatic effect.

  The applause altered to something awkward as everyone witnessed him walk away from her. Not that she blamed him. She was such a selfish idiot. Her stomach twisted and sweat broke out over her forehead. This wasn’t going how she’d imagined it at all. She’d naively hoped he might propose. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

  Her cheeks flamed even more because, yeah, she was a complete moron. As a rule, she tried not to mentally insult herself, but if there was ever a time...

  “Stage shy.” She tried to laugh and shrug and probably looked ridiculous, as usual when she didn’t have a firm hold on the reins of Haughty Hannah. “Thanks for coming.”

  She fled the stage. She fled from her mistake and the angry glower on Griff’s face. The glare that hadn’t been aimed her way in a long-ass time. She moved around the backstage area, out into the uncovered square, and decided to hide behind the large plastic Santa Claus that had once beat her up.

  Sinking down onto the snow-covered ground, she pulled her knees up to her chest. She was in shock, numb. She couldn’t even go after Griff because she couldn’t wrap her mind around how she’d ended up here.

  She wanted the town to love him. She wanted the town to understand. She wanted everyone to know her man was kind at heart. She wanted...

  There was too much she in her equations. Again. Horror sank in. She’d only thought of herself, and she hadn’t considered Griff at all. Her need to put everything in its precise place had turned on her.

  Janey and Cate’s cautioning words about her surprise theory sank in deeper and Hannah’s uneasy nerves about all this started to make sense. She began to see where she’d gone all wrong. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know. He’d hid it. From her. From everyone. The hurt she’d been trying to prevent blazed back.

  She’d told everyone his secret. That explained the death glare.

  Footsteps pounded near her. When Janey stopped in front of her, she expected her sister to smirk. She didn’t.

  “You’re finally processing everything we were saying before, aren’t you?” Janey plopped down next to her.

  Hannah blinked back tears. “Why am I like this? Stupid Haughty Hannah.”

  “I haven’t heard that nickname in a while.”

  “Well, she’s still in here. I want my own way and I do whatever I have to until I have it, ignoring everyone else, justifying my beliefs in my head.”

  “And ignoring all things reasonable,” Janey added.

  “Not helping.”

  Janey gave her a half hug. “You just want things to be like they were before.”

  Hannah’s eyes burned. She didn’t need Janey to expand on what she meant by before. Before they’d lost their parents. The loss hadn’t helped anything. “Is that so wrong?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I just want everything to be right again.” Things had felt so off balance for far too long.

  “The people who love you know you have the best intentions.”

  “Griff must not love me then.” She forced herself to say the words because she was going to have to get used to them. Oh God. She’d wrecked her whole life. Things had been so promising. Her time with Griff made her feel happy and relaxed. As close to right again as she’d been in a long time. Then she’d ruined it. She should have seen this coming.

  “I told you before he had reasons for being anonymous. Reasons you wouldn’t understand because the concept of anonymous is completely lost on you. And I say that in the nicest possible sisterly way.”

  Even if it was hard to hear, Hannah couldn’t exactly deny the politely phrased accusation. “You’re right. I don’t understand at all.”

  “You probably should have talked to him before telling the whole town.”

  “I’m getting that now.”

  “At least you get that much.”

  “He hates me.”

  “I seriously doubt that. You guys make a fantastic couple. Nothing is easy, sis. You have to put in the time and the work. He’s mad now. But he’ll forgive you.”

  “I feel like I just made the worst decision of my entire life.”

  “Probably cuz you did.”

  “Still not helping.”

  “I’m annoying. It’s kind of our family gift. We all manage it in our own ways.”


  A surprised laugh escaped Hannah. “Thanks for the support.”

  “Don’t forget you still have me and Cate.”

  Hannah’s heart squeezed inside her chest. “I’ve never forgotten that.” No matter what happened.

  “Good. Word of advice. You should probably give Griff space until he cools down.”

  She could do that. She was too scared to confront him. “Let’s go home. I don’t want to see anyone or even try to explain.”

  “Come on. I’ll sneak you out.”

  “Sometimes I really wish I wasn’t this way.” Always so sure she was right. Always so set on perfection. The impossible, allusive, tricky idea of perfection. The thing her mother had always been and she’d never be. The truth churned in her already sick stomach.

  Janey looped her arm through Hannah’s. “I love you the way you are. And so does Griff.”

  His glower filtered through Hannah’s mind. She really, very much doubted that. Right now she doubted everything.

  * * *

  The next morning, Griff was still so pissed he couldn’t remember ever being this mad. He hacked at some firewood because he couldn’t find a better way to take out all his anger.

  He’d paced around his house most of the night, and he’d only managed to sleep in fitful bursts because every time he fell asleep, his temper woke him. He couldn’t even begin to figure out what the hell to do with himself.

  He fucking missed Hannah. That was the worst. He’d roll over and swipe out an arm to pull her close. Then he’d get pissed all over again.

  “I think those wood chips are probably small enough,” a wry voice commented.

  Griff whipped his head around. He focused on Steve for a split second before he took another swing. “Go away.”

  He didn’t want to see anyone right now. Especially anyone from the town who would no doubt hail him a hero. He didn’t want to be a fucking hero or a known kid pageant donor or anything else that breathed of his mother. Then it was only a matter of time until the end. Until he lost himself when he’d spent so much time trying to stay real.

  He’d made it through growing up with a mask in place, but there was nothing left in him that could go on pretending. He was who he was. He wanted to do his giving in private. He didn’t need to belong to this community.