Back with His Twins for Christmas

Chapter 24

POV Charlotte

I approached the group with forced casualness, my heart still racing from the confrontation that had ended only minutes ago.

"Need any help with the game? I feel like I've been neglecting my supervisory duties as festival coordinator."

Peyton looked up from where she was helping Noah aim a ring toward a bottle, her smile bright but her eyes sharp with curiosity.

"Everything's under control here—Leah's already won two prizes and Noah's determined to catch up. But where's Tom? Strange to see you without your shadow. I was starting to think he'd surgically attached himself to your elbow."

"He's no longer a problem," I said simply, and the words tasted like freedom on my tongue. I caught Dean's eye across the booth, trying to read his reaction to my sudden appearance. But his expression remained carefully neutral.

I turned to Emma, pulling her into conversation before the silence could stretch into something awkward. "I'm so sorry I didn't greet you properly when you arrived—it's been what, six years? You look wonderful, Emma. How have you been?"

Emma tore her gaze from the twins with visible effort, something in her expression shifting as she focused on me.

"I'm studying medicine now, actually. Fifth year. Dean invited me at the last minute, promising the festival would be spectacular enough to justify the drive." She glanced around at the twinkling lights, the crowded stalls, the families laughing in the snow, and something softened in her features. "He wasn't wrong. This exceeds anything I imagined. You've done incredible work here, Charlotte."

"I'm glad you could make it," I said, and I meant it despite the tension coiling in my stomach. "I'm glad we're all celebrating Christmas together. It feels right somehow, after everything." The words came out more vulnerable than I'd intended, weighted with implications I wasn't ready to examine.

Emma nodded, her smile warm but distracted, and I watched her eyes drift back to Leah and Noah with that unsettling analytical focus.

She was cataloging features, I realized—the shape of Noah's jaw, the exact shade of Leah's steel-blue eyes, the way they both tilted their heads when concentrating. She was a medical student. She understood genetics.

And she was looking at my children like she'd just solved an equation that changed everything she thought she knew about her brother's life.

"Mommy!" Leah interrupted, tugging at my sleeve with the urgency of a child who'd spotted opportunity. "When can we go shopping for gifts? There's so many pretty things in the stalls and I want to buy something for everyone, especially Dean because he taught me to ski and fixed Noah's truck and he's the best. Can we go now? Please?"

Noah added quietly, his dark eyes fixed on the ground, "We don't have any money."

Before I could respond—before I could process the way Leah's casual declaration had made Emma's expression sharpen further—Peyton stepped in with practiced ease.

"I'll fund the expedition! Consider it your Christmas present from your favorite aunt. Emma, would you mind helping them choose? I'm terrible at gift selection, and you seem like someone with excellent taste."

Peyton shot me a meaningful look as she spoke—creating space, buying time, reading the situation with the intuition that had always made her my ally even when an ocean of silence separated us.

I nodded almost imperceptibly, gratitude flooding through me.

"Come on, Emma!" Leah grabbed her hand with the confidence of a child who'd never met a stranger, dragging her toward the nearest craft stall. "I'll show you the booth with the wooden animals—they have wolves and bears and everything! Noah wants a wolf, don't you, Noah?"

I watched them go, my heart twisting painfully as Emma walked beside my children with eyes that mirrored theirs exactly.

The truth was written across their faces for anyone willing to see it—the Sawyer eyes, unmistakable and damning and beautiful all at once.

Dean moved closer once we were alone, his presence solid and warm against the festival's cold air. "Lottie, I need to—"

"We never finished our conversation," I said, cutting him off, turning to face him fully. "On the overlook. Before Peyton called about Leah. Whatever exists between us, Dean, whatever the truth is about everything—it's time to be completely honest. About all of it. I'm tired of secrets and misunderstandings and years wasted on things that should have been said a long time ago."

He nodded, his expression serious in a way that made my chest tight with anticipation and fear.

"I agree. There's so much I need to tell you, and so much I need to ask, and I've been trying to find the right moment for days now. The twins, Charlotte—when Leah said—"

But before either of us could speak the words that would change everything, the festival music dimmed and an announcer's voice crackled through the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Evergreen Peaks Christmas Festival! We'd like to invite our hosts to the main stage for the opening ceremony—please welcome Grace and Richard Evergreen, their daughter Charlotte, and their honored investor, Tom Bradley!"

The crowd began applauding, heads turning toward the stage where my parents already stood waiting, their faces bright with the joy of salvation. And somewhere in that crowd, Tom was watching, waiting to see if I would keep my end of a bargain that no longer existed.

I started toward the stage, already steeling myself for whatever came next, when Dean caught my hand.

His grip was warm and desperate, his calloused fingers wrapping around mine with an urgency that made my breath catch.

"Don't let him control the moment up there, Lottie. Whatever he's planned, whatever he's expecting—you don't owe him anything. And if you need help, if things go wrong, I'll find a way. I'll do whatever it takes, whatever's necessary." His voice dropped, rough with emotion that made my eyes sting. "I'll protect you. You and the twins. I promise you that, no matter what happens next."

The words tumbled out with a desperation that broke something open in my chest. He meant it. Every syllable, every promise, every fierce declaration of protection that had nothing to do with obligation and everything to do with something deeper, something I'd been running from since the moment I saw him in that maintenance workshop.

I didn't let him finish.

I rose onto my toes and kissed him—brief and fierce, my cold fingers gripping the front of his jacket, my lips pressed against his in a promise and a declaration, everything I'd been fighting against for weeks finally surrendered to.

The kiss tasted like winter air and second chances and the terrifying possibility of hope.

Then I pulled away and walked toward the stage, leaving Dean standing frozen in the festival crowd, his fingers touching his lips where mine had been, his eyes wide with something that looked like wonder.

Whatever came next—the announcements, the questions, the inevitable confrontation with Tom—I would face it without fear.

Because I wasn't alone anymore. And I was finally ready to fight for everything I wanted.