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She pulls her sweatshirt closer to her body. “Just felt like getting out of Houston for a bit.”

“You drove all the way from Texas?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“I didn’t want Gary to deal with the stress of flying,” she says but doesn’t look me in the eye. “Speaking of Gary, I should get back. No doubt my mom’s abandoned her dinner to make sure all those football players have everything they need.”

“Right. Of course.” I shift the loose board to the side.

“That’s still broken?” Wynter laughs under her breath. “I remember how you and Bennett always snuck through it to play.”

“I’ve been meaning to fix it,” I admit, giving Gary’s head a scratch before he slips through the gap and into her parents’ backyard. “I always end up fixing something else first.”

“Isn’t that how life goes?” Wynter’s gaze drifts past me for a beat before settling back on mine. “It was good seeing you again, Joshua.”

“You, too, Wynter.”

With a soft smile, she turns and makes her way up the steps of the deck, Gary trotting at her heels.

But before she opens the door, she pauses and looks my way. It lasts maybe a second, but it feels longer.

Once she disappears inside, I head back to the porch and continue stringing lights along the railing.

But as I work, my thoughts are no longer consumed by this being my first Christmas without my mom.

Instead, they’re consumed by Wynter Hayes.

And why she’s really home for the first time in years.

CHAPTER FOUR

WYNTER

“What prompted this surprise little visit?” my father asks as he walks into the kitchen once the last football player has finally left.

It’s been nearly two hours, and I’m still standing at the sink, washing dishes.

It seems like there’s a never-ending pile, as if the dishes multiply every time I grab one. And to think my mom typically does all of this herself. It’s like hosting Thanksgiving dinner every week. Once a year is more than enough for me. But to do this every single week?

It’s so much work.

I wonder if my father appreciates it.

I shut off the water and place yet another dish on the drying rack before turning around.

To most, my father can seem like an intimidating man. His six-three frame fills the doorway, and he has the physique of a former college football player, although he’s not as muscular as he once was.

I always saw him as a giant teddy bear, though. Especially when he’d laugh that full-belly laugh of his.

Taking a deep breath, I brace for this conversation. But as I open my mouth to tell him about Wyatt’s infidelity, he cuts me off.

“Do you really think it’s smart for you to be out here right now? The team has a big game this weekend and very well could be going to the Heritage Bowl. Wyatt needs your support. Bowl games can be stressful. What will people think if they learn his wife just picked up and left during such an important time? If his team does well, I wouldn’t be surprised if professional teams look at him for a head coach position.”

I should have known my father would focus on Wyatt’s needs first. My mother did the same.

As much as I should rip off the bandage and tell them the truth, I’m not in the right head space for it anymore. Not after my father’s list of all the reasons I’m a horrible wife for running out on Wyatt during such an important time for him. Plus, I’m exhausted after the past few days. This isn’t the kind of news you break when operating on fumes. It’s something I need to tell them with a clear head.

“I can’t remember the last time I was in Sycamore Falls around Christmas.” I paste on the same congenial expression I’ve worn for years. “There’s nowhere on earth that does the holidays like this town.”

“There certainly isn’t.” My mother appears at my side and gives my arm a reassuring squeeze.