Christmas at the Riverview Inn

Shit.

He was a man now, and the choices that had been made were all his own. And truthfully, he was grateful in a lot of ways for how that whole thing had shaken out.

But the memory was still a bad one.

He was doing his best to squash an older survival skill. Learned in his father’s house. From his father’s fists.

Anger. Anger at all of them. At himself. If he could just be angry he wouldn’t feel ashamed about that night. Or pained by the years. Or shocked at all the silver in Alice’s hair.

Or pierced right through the gut by Josie.

He was trying not to notice her, where she lingered on the edge of the crowd of Mitchells. The place she’d occupied for a long time. Hovering at the periphery but never pushing her way inside. It was one of the things that had bound them together when they were kids. Belonging, sure. But not really.

Stop.

He took a deep breath so he could let go of the anger.

Nope. No way. That way lies madness.

It seemed crucial that he treat her the same as he treated every other Mitchell, but that was so difficult he found himself ignoring her. And that was easier. In so many ways.

So he stopped giving himself a headache watching her out of the corner of his eye, but he could still feel her. Like there was a string stretched between them, and he felt the tug and pull the further away she got.

This was a feeling he had forgotten about. The feeling that dogged him the first few months after he left, before he headed for Europe, putting Josie, the Riverview, and that night a million miles behind him.

It had taken a while before the first thought he’d had upon waking up was not about Josie. Or the Riverview. These people.

But it had happened. He’d moved on.

“You came,” Helen said, smiling up at him.

“You made it pretty clear I had to.” He looked down at her belly. “How are you feeling?”

“Great.”

“Where’s Evan?” He’d met Helen’s guy a while back. They’d all been in Washington, DC, at the time. They were doing some lobby work and he had been in the city to interview an urban farmer, but then ended up staying because he and the urban farmer had fallen into her bed for about a month.

Cameron liked Evan as a person and he really liked him as a partner for Helen. He was a grounding force for that girl, whose natural state was electric.

“He’s been delayed,” she said. “But he promises he’ll be here by Christmas Eve.”

“He better,” Cameron said. Alice was back from the kitchen bringing piles of food, bright eyed but not crying. She set down the serving bowls and then grabbed him, ushering him toward the table. Her arm around his waist like a steel girder.

Her message was clear—you are not getting away from me.

“You must be hungry. Are you hungry?” she asked.

It was the question of his teenage years. God, the food she’d fed him. Stuffing him with potatoes and fresh green beans and plums and cheese and cakes made from scratch with love. He’d eaten it all. Every bit. All the time.

So used to starving he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was.

“What…happened here?” he asked, looking down at the messy table, serving bowls on their sides, forks on the floor. Total mayhem.

“There was a squirrel in the tree,” Alice said, pointing at the giant Christmas tree in front of the windows.

“Oh my god, it’s the racoons all over again,” Cameron said, remembering the racoons that had invaded the party tent the night before the very first wedding ever held at the Riverview.

“What a night that was,” Alice said.

“I don’t think it was that bad,” Gabe said with a smile just for Alice.

He had a physical reaction to Gabe and Alice, same as when he was a kid. A tension down his back, his hands curling into fists. As a teenager in constant survival mode, with nothing but anger and fear to feed him, the love and respect they had for each other had seemed fake. And it had literally made him angry. And when that love and affection had been spread his way he fought it with every part of his being.

Until Max somehow convinced him it was real. Something he could count on.

And he didn’t regret giving up that fight, but perhaps—if he hadn’t let them all the way in—he might have been able to protect himself a little bit better.

“Well, it probably won’t be the last wild animal loose in this place,” Max said, coming to stand next to him. Cameron stepped away just enough that he didn’t feel Max there. Couldn’t see him out of the corner of his eye. Could, in fact, pretend he wasn’t there at all.