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They found a place inside of me I didn’t want to go.

Trust isn’t something freely given

But I’ve put my trust in you

My favorite blue gel pen hovers over the lined page while I stare out the window in thought. I want to come up with the next line, but all I can think about right now is Kash and how it felt to see him holding my journal again.

When he first confessed to finding my notebook, it was almost like I had an out-of-body experience. All my extremities went numb and there was a constant ringing in my ears. Things had been going so well with Kash, both musically and romantically, and there I was, facing the very strong possibility he was about to annihilate me.

Writing songs together requires a certain level of trust, both with Kash and with myself. And while I’ve let myself open up to him in the time we’ve spent together, I’ve kept parts of me closed off. There are things in my lyric book I’ve never shared with anyone else, and I’m not sure I’m ready for Kash to see the messiest, sharpest, most vulnerable bits and pieces of me. The words in my notebook are mine and mine alone.

Time nearly stopped as I stood there, waiting for the ax to drop. I could hear every heartbeat. Could feel the slow pulse of my blood chugging through my veins. Would he still look at me the same way? Would I still be able to look him in the eye, knowing what he’d read?

His eyes were so earnest, so regretful, there was no doubting his integrity. He’d owned up to it. He’d apologized. And then he’d given me space to decide how to handle it. Of all the things he could have done to solidify my faith in him, that was it.

I tug the fleece-lined Santa hat down over my ears and grab a crate of battery-powered flickering LED taper candles. The Carols by Candlelight walk starts in the main parking lot and follows a meandering path among themed displays before we weave through the Christmas tree groves and end up at the cocoa stand.

Kash is already in the parking lot when I arrive with the last crate of candles. He’s dressed in a puffy black jacket and has a thick wool knit cap on his head. Kash looks like a ski bum ready to take to the slopes, not a country rocker about to take the stage at the Live, from Nashville! New Year’s Eve Ball. It’s a different look for him and one I could definitely get used to.

“Here,” he says, taking the crate from me. He stacks it next to the other crates in Little Blue’s truck bed and jams his hands into his pockets. “Brrrr.”

There’s nothing more I’d rather do than snuggle into Kash right now, but people are milling around, waiting for us to start. At 5:00 p.m. on the dot, Dad signals for us to begin handing out the candles. Then he hoists himself up onto the truck bed and gives a two-finger whistle. The murmurs quiet and everyone turns to face him.

“Welcome to Carols by Candlelight. Tonight, we’ll be singing some holiday favorites as we walk around Hidden Acres. The path we’ll be taking is not paved and can be uneven in places, so please watch your step. And please stay with the group. Tonight we’d like to keep this confined to a singing party, no search parties necessary.”

A few people chuckle. Most of them play with the on/off switch on their battery-powered candles.

“Okay, y’all,” Dad says. “Grab a candle”—he jumps down off the truck and holds up a giant staff with a glowing white orb at the top—“and follow me.” Strands of green leaves and red berries are wrapped around the stick to make it look festive.

“That looks suspiciously like a wizard staff,” Kash whispers, his warm breath brushing over my cheek.

“It was. Mom picked it up at an after-Halloween clearance event and now it’s a wassailing staff.”

Lifting the wassailing staff high in the air like the Christmas tree farm tour guide that he is, Dad leads the sizable group toward the shed. It’s hard to count how many people are here, but there must be at least seventy or so participants. I recognize some faces, but there are plenty of strangers here, too.

Mom’s put up a Nativity scene in front of the shed, so the first song on the set list is “Away in a Manger.” Kash joins in with the rest of the carolers in his familiar raspy tenor.

Dad leads the carolers onward to serenade Dunder and Blixem, who are munching on their feed when we arrive, so they’re treated to dinner and a show. Lucky ladies.

Tiny white flakes start to flutter down on us during “Silver Bells.” The snow falls faster, glistening in the candlelight during “Jingle Bells.” By the time everyone starts singing “Winter Wonderland,” it feels like we are literally in a winter wonderland snow globe. The twinkling white lights and the sparkling snow make it feel like there’s magic in the air.

Kash reaches out and grabs my hand, playfully pulling me into a whirl during an enthusiastic, albeit off-key, version of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” Laughing, we spin around a white pine until we’re hidden from view, and Kash takes the moment to dip me and steal a kiss.

“Hey,” I say, glancing around to make sure we’re alone. “I’m supposed to be working.”

Kash flashes me a mischievous smirk and pulls me back into our position at the tail end of the group so quickly, I’m sure no one even noticed we’d disappeared. I give his hand a squeeze, wishing our fingers weren’t separated by our gloves. Wishing it was just the two of us in this magical holiday greeting card landscape that surrounds us.

Dad stops the group in front of the tallest tree on the farm, one he’s growing in the hopes that it will someday be chosen as the Tennessee state capitol Christmas tree. Currently, this one is about eighteen feet tall, so it seems massive compared with the others in the lot, but it needs to surpass at least thirty feet before it can even be considered. The carolers sing “O Christmas Tree,” many of them linking arms and swaying back and forth.

Kash sings more enthusiastically as we continue on. He has a huge grin on his face. “This is so great,” he says. “I can’t remember the last time I sang just for fun. Man, it’s great.” Kash opens his arms wide and belts out “Fa la la la la la la la la.” People turn and stare. I duck my head and step to the side, not wanting any unnecessary attention, but Kash eats it right up. His fa-la-las get more animated and off-key as the song continues.

How is Kash so relaxed? He clearly doesn’t care that he’s belting out the wrong words in a pitchy voice. It’s hard to believe this tuneless wonder is Kash Murray, up-and-coming musician about to make his big solo debut on national television.

I wish I could be that carefree when I sing. To not worry about what people think if I’m out of tune or if I start to strain on the high notes. Flashes of May swirl through my mind like the flakes of snow swirling at my feet and I shiver.

Kash turns to me with such joy on his face it makes my heart squeeze.

I’m glad he’s found his passion, but I’m gonna stick to songwriting from here on out.