Let Your Hearts Be Light (Christmas Daddies, #1)

by Fae Quin

I liked my job. I liked…fixing things. Building things. Creating. Despite being large, I had a delicate hand when needed. I was good with my hands.

“My dislike of Baker has everything to do with his absolutely smarmy, shitty little smile and absolutely nothing to do with the fact he’s gay.” “Oh, thank god.” Nathan relaxed. “Because I love you but like…if that was the reason you didn’t like him, I don’t know I…” “Yeah. No.” I shook my head.

“I mean…he’s like…Sitting there, Dad. All empty. Like he shut down. He just looks…so sad? You know?”

“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say. That night the thought of Baker sitting alone in his car staring off into space followed me like a specter as I went through my nighttime routine. His green eyes haunted me as I brushed my teeth.

“Which room do you think is Becca’s?” he asked, like an absolute fucking creep. But he was my creep, so I loved him anyway. “Weird question, bud.”

Maybe it had been a fluke but…Baxter had been almost an entirely different person. He smiled yes, but there was something else there, just as Nathan had said. He was more complex than I’d given him credit for.

“Hi, Becca.” Nathan’s whole face grew bright red and I paused, my head tilting curiously as I glanced between the two of them. Were they… No. Right? No. Becca would’ve said something.

“So.” Baxter fidgeted, his fingers bunching up around the seatbelt. I could hear the way he scratched at the fabric. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Fuck. Why was he so nervous? He was making me nervous. “So,” I repeated, waiting for him to continue.

“She thinks I need help making friends,” I admitted, more than a little embarrassed. Paxton looked…surprised. It was a new expression for him, and I watched the way it unfolded across his face like a present. My heart did that unsteady thump, thump again. “You…need help making friends?” He sounded disbelieving. “Well,” I shrugged. “She seems to think so anyway.”

“Why do you hate me?” I asked again, sticking to my guns. “You’re…” I waved a hand at him, encompassing all of his muscled, flannel-covered glory. “You’re always glaring at me. Like I did something to you. And I don’t understand. I’m just…” I shook my head. “I’m just wondering what I’ve ever done to you to make you look at me like I’m…” “Like you’re what?” he asked. “Like I’m a piece of shit.”

“I’m not happy.” I stared at him, suddenly unafraid, despite the way his brows lowered and his eyes only grew darker. “If you hate me because I’m happy, then you’re just…” I shook my head. “You’re just completely fucking stupid.” “What?” “I’m not happy, Paxton.” I pointed my spatula at him, my voice wobbling as the words that I’d kept barricaded inside of me since the day my sister died barreled to the front. “I’m absolutely fucking miserable.” My hands were shaking, shaking, shaking. “Now, go wash your fucking hands.” Paxton did as he was told.

The entire time we’d worked he’d kept glancing at me through his lashes, his dark honeyed eyes more than a little conflicted. I…regretted opening up to him. Not because what I’d said wasn’t true but because it was information I hadn’t shared before with, well, anyone. It was my most private secret.

The fact that she’d signed him up for the Christmas Buddies program was proof enough of that. Could she see that her dad was slipping? And if that was the case, why did I care so much? Why did my heart hurt? Why did remembering the painful, angry bite to his words, the quiver of his lips, the flutter of his wet lashes—why did that make me want to fucking punch something?

As I lay in bed and stared out my window, loneliness crept up on me for the first time in a long time. I watched fat snowflakes fall from the heavens and my heart tapped an unsteady staccato against my breastbone.

“What is…?” “Surprise!” Nathan cheered, flashing jazz hands my way as I did my best to stop ogling his dad in snow pants. Wow. His…wow. His everything was just— I needed some quality time with my right hand and an incognito tab if I was going to survive this. “I am very surprised.” I wasn’t even lying either.

By the time we headed inside, my cheeks were burning from the cold, and my ears were numb. My hat had slipped at some point despite the fact that Paxton had generously pulled it down for me at least six different times. He was…different today. Kinder.

Baxter’s jacket didn’t look nearly warm enough, but I didn’t bother him about it. Figured the guy could freeze to death if he wanted to. We were in fucking Vermont; he should know better. However, when we got out of the car in the horrifically crowded parking lot at the market he just waggled his eyebrows at me, opened his coat like a drug dealer, and pointed to the little button inside that signified it was heated. A heated coat. What the fuck. I was impressed, and I couldn’t help myself. A heated coat? Why had I never thought of that? Jesus. It was forty degrees in November and it was only bound to get cooler, and here I was like a total schmuck with my fucking wool flannel Carhartt combo. I shook my head in disbelief.

Maybe it was because they all knew shit about me I didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was because…well. Maybe it was because he was fucking pretty, and all they’d need to do is look at me to see right through the mask I’d had to throw up around him since that night he put me in my place.

“Becca is the only one I shop for,” Baxter admitted to my surprise. “Everyone else in my family is dead or....” He smiled at me and I stared at him, my jaw dropping. That was…the most cheerful declaration of death I had ever heard. But then again, I remember what he’d said earlier. I’m fucking miserable.

and Paxton Montgomery was holding my fucking hand. How we’d gone from elbow holding to hand holding was a mystery.

“Bread pans,” I said, unthinking. “You’re smiling about bread pans?” I blinked. When I glanced up at him I saw that he was chewing on his own smile. He looked…handsome like that. Softer. Like his ice was melting just a little every day. A glacier that warmed beneath the beams of summer sunlight. I grinned at him, wide and bright, and for the first time in a long time my smile felt real.

Nathan returned and we set up shop in the living room, piling onto the two couches with our blankets in tow and our treats scattered across the coffee table. It felt suspiciously like being a part of a family. Sure, of course, Becca and I were a family on our own but…There was something about not being the only adult there that made me feel…not so alone.

Even my grief had been shoved to the back burner because suddenly it wasn’t just me grieving. It was Becca too. My baby. She needed me to be strong. She needed me just as much as I needed her.

“Cut the shit, Baker.” Paxton’s whole body tensed up, his eyes growing cold as ice as he glared down at me. “You don’t have to tell me anything. You don’t owe that to me. But you at least owe yourself the truth.” He sneered. “You know, if all you do is smile, the smiles stop meaning shit.”

“Sometimes I can’t remember what it felt like to be a real person.” I whispered, my words wobbling in the space between us. My dam had cracked. Maybe this isn’t what Paxton had meant when he said to cut the shit but… His heartbeat was steady. His scent was a balm on my raw nerves. “I’m too old to feel this uncertain.” My voice wobbled.

“No.” Paxton said firmly, at the same moment I felt his massive palm cradle the back of my head. “You’re not sorry.” What? “You’re Baxter.” It took a second for the dad joke to register.

I dozed off with my face pressed to solid muscle, listening to the steady beat of a kind man’s heart. One thing was certain. Paxton wasn’t who I thought he was. But, that wasn’t such a bad thing, actually. He was soft. Kind. Steady as the tide. Solid as a mountain. I…liked that.

What I saw there though was… Well. Hell. My cheeks warmed, and my heart did a weird squirmy thing in my chest that I hadn’t felt in—god knows how many years. I swallowed. I shut the card.

So sweet. So fucking sweet. Sweet as the things he baked. Sweeter even.

“We all have problems, B.” Fuck. Again. At least I hadn’t slipped up and called him baby. The thought made my insides turn molten. My cheeks grew hot. “I know, but…” He shook his head again, hair flopping. “I think I have a lot of trauma I haven’t dealt with since my sister’s death.” His poor lip got caught by his teeth again and I licked my own in sympathy. “Ever since she died—ever since I got Becca, it’s like…I’ve been just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

My heart gave a lurch in my chest. So that’s what he’d meant at the market when he’d said he fired his family. Maybe they…hadn’t loved him the way he was so clearly meant to be loved. The way he deserved to be loved.

“It must’ve been hard,” I said softly. “Becoming a dad.” “I wasn’t ready.” Baxter laughed, though the sound was brittle and bitter. “I wasn’t ready, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I needed Becca. She…she’s everything to me.”

“When life became hell, Becca was my angel. She still is.” He swallowed and I watched his throat bob. The light flickered and I made a mental note to check the bulb after he left. “I’m always terrified I’m going to fuck it all up, you know? I’m not stable. I’m not the person she thinks I am. I’m just…fuck. I’m forty-two and I still feel like the same scared kid I was just out of culinary school trying to figure out how the fuck to survive. I feel like I’m flying blind all the time. I try, but…how can I know what I’m doing is right?” “Baxter.” I interrupted him, reaching out again, my fingers wrapping around his wrist. The bone was fragile, waifish despite the taper of his frame. Broad shoulders. Tiny wrists. Long fingers. Perfect. “There’s no parent on this goddamn Earth that knows what they’re doing.”

“And you’re safe,” I reminded him. I watched the way his breath fluttered, his eyes glancing guiltily to the side because deep down he didn’t know whether or not what I was telling him was true. Anxiety could be a bitch that way. I was suddenly overwhelmingly glad that he’d come to me with this—where I could help him. Where I could make sure he was safe.

“I think I want to do that.” Baxter glanced up at me again, his eyes wide and sweet as he searched mine for approval. I swallowed the tightness in my throat. “I think I deserve…better than how I’ve been treating myself.” He bit his lip. “I think that I deserve a chance at getting better.”

“I just think…I’d rather celebrate another day. Like a do-over? Maybe this time we won’t invite Mom. Maybe this time we could…” “We could what?” “We could invite the Bakers over or something? You know. Um. They don’t even need to know it’s my birthday. We could go sledding again—or to the movies. Drink cocoa. Like…” Nathan’s cheeks grew red and I stared at him, my heart thudding unsteadily. “Like what?” He was interrupted as the doorbell rang. The sound was loud enough it made both of us jump, and I turned my head to look, glaring at the intruder as the words that lay unspoken between us filtered through the air. Like a family.

“Close your eyes!” Baxter demanded.The light switch was flipped off the moment I entered the room and we were suspended in darkness. I bumped against Nathan’s back. He was giggling, and the noise made my heart sing. “They’re closed!” Nathan sing-songed. Apparently he’d given up his macho front. He was too excited. Cute, cute, cute. I ruffled his hair and listened to him groan as he shoved me off of him. I wished I could see his face.

My eyes stung as I stared at the two blondes. I watched their heads bob. I watched the way they grinned at each other, like they shared a secret only they knew. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and joined in, rumbling quietly as my gaze snapped back to Nathan so I could watch the ice that had built around him since his phone call with his Mom melt away.

“Oh!” Baxter blinked, cheeks flushed. “We didn’t want to impose.” “Stay.” The words rumbled their way out of my throat. I wasn’t sure if Baxter truly understood how serious I was. I glanced at Nathan and he nodded at me eagerly. “Stay, Baxter. We want you to stay.”

“I’m gonna go wait in the car.” She was gone a moment later with the soft click of the front door shutting behind her and I couldn’t help but be charmed by how easily she’d read the room. Did she know how badly I wanted her dad? God, I hoped not. That would be awkward as hell.

“Thank you for coming.” The words left my lips without planning, a quiet rumble in the space between us. Sweet. Gentle. Two things I never was, unless I was with him apparently.

“To keep you warm,” he said, as if it was that simple. But it wasn’t. Because the scarf meant far more than any other gift I’d ever received. It was a promise. Friendship. Companionship. A future.

The second man—the one that had been driving—looked like Paxton. Bearded. Lumber-jacky. Sexy as all hell. Though his hair was black and he didn’t have the salt and pepper that Paxton sported. He grinned at me and winked. “Paxton didn’t tell me how cute you were,” was his greeting.

Five minutes later while Trent and Nathan were chatting beside the truck, Paxton grabbed onto my wrist. He pulled me away from them, his eyes dark, the sun catching the copper in his hair and making it glow. It didn’t escape my notice that he was wearing the scarf I’d given him the night before. Like father, like son.

“Cuz you’re sweet as honey. And you’re always buzzing around. Yellow too.” Paxton reached up with one of his hands to pluck at my hair and I laughed, more than a little charmed. Honey bee. That was cute. Really fucking cute.

“Get inside. Jesus. Haven’t you heard of a door?” “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased as he slipped inside the room. It still surprised me every time he joked with me. I hadn’t known he was capable of emotion other than disapproval but here he was. Playful. Cold. Pink from the winter chill.

His eyes said, be gentle. They said, I’ve never done this before. They said, you don’t know what this means to me.

“My sister-in-law has a sweater making business,” Paxton grunted after a moment. “Wasn’t that big of a deal to call her up and ask if she had anything with bees.” He downplayed his own effort so easily but I refused to accept that. He’d planned this. Planned the bees.

I borrowed some of Baxter’s lotion and aftershave, enjoying the scent of sugar cookies far too much as it clung to my skin. I’d think about him all day. I didn’t give a fuck that Trent was bound to make fun of me, or that Becca might notice I smelled suspiciously like her father. They could all suck it.

“Well, technically the mattress is the one sleeping on the floor,” Baxter joked. “No partner of mine is sleeping on the goddamn floor.” Baxter’s jaw dropped a little and I watched his flush grow ruddy and red. His freckles looked more pronounced like this and I couldn’t help myself as I dipped low enough I could place a brief little kiss against the tip of his cold nose.