Christmas In Snowflake Canyon

“A hundred hours,” the attorney said instead. “You can finish that in a few weeks and put this whole thing behind you. Or,” he went on, “you can stand by your belief it’s a big waste of time and choose jail time instead. Before you do that, ask yourself if you really want to break Pop’s heart by spending the first Christmas in a decade when you haven’t been in the desert or the hospital, not with your family but in a jail cell.”

For just a brief moment, she caught a tangle of emotions in Dylan’s expression before he turned stoic once more.

“At least tell me the truth.” His voice was low, heated. “This was Charlotte’s idea, wasn’t it? She and Spence won’t back off. They’ve been riding me about this for weeks.”

“Neither of them had anything to do with it,” Andrew assured him. “If you want the truth, Pop suggested it. When he mentioned it, I thought it was a good idea and brought it up with the D.A. They ran with it.”

“Remind me to take you off my Christmas list for the next twenty years or so,” Dylan growled.

“Like it or not, you’re in a unique position to help here,” Andrew said quietly. “Charlotte, Spence...everybody can give lip service about what it takes to walk that journey to healing but you’re right in the middle of it. You understand better than anyone.”

Genevieve’s face and neck felt hot as the sincerity of the words seemed to arrow straight to her stomach.

She thought she enjoyed such a cosmopolitan life, but she suddenly realized she knew nothing about the world. She hadn’t given men like Dylan a thought while she had been in Paris.

It made her feel small and selfish and stupid. He might think A Warrior’s Hope was a waste of time, but she resolved in that moment on a hard chair in her attorney’s office that she would do her best, even if the concept filled her with anxiety.

“Stand on your principles if you want,” Andrew went on when his brother remained silent. “What do I care? I get paid either way, though I will point out that I’ll be the one to get crap from Pop if you’re enjoying the county jail’s hospitality over the holidays.”

“Yeah, boo hoo.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Right. Or you can just yank up your skivvies, suck it up and keep in mind it’s only for a few weeks. Lord knows, you’ve endured a hell of a lot worse than this.”

That hand clenched again on his thigh, then he slowly straightened long fingers. She was certain he would stick to his guns and refuse to agree to the plea agreement and she didn’t want him to. She hated the idea of him spending time in jail, especially when she knew the whole thing was her fault.

“What’s the big deal?” she said quickly. “Like your brother said, it’s only a few weeks. It might even be fun.”

“There you go,” Andrew said dryly. “Listen to the woman. Lord knows, you could use a little fun.”

She knew he was mocking her, that he probably thought she was some useless sorority girl out to have a good time, but in that moment she didn’t care. Not if it meant Dylan Caine wouldn’t have to spend Christmas in jail because of her.

The silence stretched out among the three of them like a string of too-taut Christmas lights, crackly and brittle, but after a long moment Dylan’s shoulder brushed hers as he shrugged.

“Fine,” he bit out. “A hundred hours and not a minute more.”

The attorney exhaled heavily, and she realized he had been as anxious as she was. He had just been better at hiding it. “Excellent.” Blue eyes like Dylan’s gleamed with triumph. “I’ll run these over to the courthouse and let the district attorney and the judge know you’ve both agreed. The paper work should be in order by Wednesday and you should be able to start the day after.”

“Great. Can’t wait for all that fun to begin,” Dylan said.

“Someone from A Warrior’s Hope will be in touch to let you know details about what time to show up.”

“Thank you,” Genevieve said. “I appreciate your hard work.”

A small part of her had to wonder if her father or someone else in his firm might have been able to get all the charges dismissed, but she wasn’t going to let herself second-guess her decision to have Andrew represent her.

“I’ve got some papers I’ll need you to sign. Give me just a moment.”

He walked out of the office, and she shifted, nervous suddenly to be alone with Dylan. The events of Friday night seemed surreal, distant, as if they had happened to someone else. Had she really been handcuffed to the man in the backseat of a police car?

He was the first to break the silence. “I have to admit, I didn’t really expect to see you here.”

“Why not? Did you think I would have preferred jail? I’ve heard it’s horrible. My roommate in college was arrested after a nightclub bust for underage drinking. She said the food was a nightmare and her skin was never the same after the scratchy towels.”

“I guess taking the plea agreement was the right thing to do,” he drawled. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my skin.”

He almost smiled. She could see one hovering there, just at the corner of his mouth, but at the last minute, he straightened his lips back into a thin line. It was too late. She had seen it. He did have a sense of humor, even if she had to pretend to be a ditzy socialite to bring it out.

“What I meant,” he went on, “was that I figured you would have second thoughts and go with your own in-house counsel. I can’t imagine the mayor is thrilled you’re letting a Caine represent you.”

An understatement. She had finally resorted to keeping her phone turned off over the weekend so she didn’t have to be on the receiving end of the incessant calls and texts.

“He didn’t have a choice, did he? I’m an adult. He might think he can dictate every single decision I make, but he’s wrong. He might be forcing me to stay in Hope’s Crossing but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him strong-arm me in everything.”

“He’s forcing you to stay home? How did he do that? Cut off your credit cards?”

Right in one. Her mouth tightened at the accuracy of his guess. She was angry suddenly, at her parents for trying to manipulate her, at herself for finding herself in this predicament, even at Dylan. He had a huge, boisterous family that loved him. Even more, they seemed to respect him. She had witnessed both of his brothers trying to watch out for him while he only pushed them away.

She and Charlie hardly spoke anymore, both wrapped up in their separate worlds.

“None of your business,” she answered rudely. “Spending an evening handcuffed together doesn’t automatically make us best friends. Anyway, I’m still mad at you for what you said about me to your brother.”

Again that smile teased his mouth. “As you should be. If you remember, I did apologize.”

She made a huffing noise but didn’t have the chance to say anything else after his brother returned.

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, the deed was done.

“So that’s it?”

“On the judicial end. Now we turn you both over to Spence and his team at A Warrior’s Hope. You only need to fill your community-service hours. They’ll give the judge regular updates on the work you do there and whether it meets the conditions of the plea agreement.”

That wasn’t so bad, she supposed. It could have been much worse. She could only imagine her father coming in and trying to browbeat the judge, who happened to be one of few people in town who stood up to William, into throwing out all the charges.

“Thank you,” she said again to Andrew. “Dylan, I guess I’ll see you Thursday at A Warrior’s Hope.”

He made a face. “Can’t wait.”

With an odd feeling of anticlimax, she shrugged into her coat and gathered up her purse.

“Wait. I’ll walk out with you,” Dylan said.

She and Andrew both gave him surprised looks. “Okay,” she said.

Outside the courthouse, leaden clouds hung low overhead, dark and forbidding. They turned everything that same sullen gray. In the dreary afternoon light, Hope’s Crossing looked small, provincial, unappealing.

She could have been spending Christmas in the City of Lights, wandering through her favorite shops, enjoying musical performances, having long lunches with friends at their favorite cafеs.