Updated Jan 14, 2026 • ~9 min read
POV: Reid
Christmas Eve
Rose’s house was chaos in the best way.
Twenty people crammed into her living room—Morgan and Parker, Wade, half the town it seemed—eating cookies and drinking hot cider and celebrating like this was the most important party of the year.
Maybe it was. In Pine Ridge, Christmas Eve at Rose’s was tradition. One I’d avoided for three years.
But this year was different.
This year I had Hailey beside me, laughing at something Wade said, completely at ease in a way she never seemed in Seattle. Like she belonged here. Like—
Like she was home.
“You’re staring again,” Rose said, appearing at my elbow with more cookies I didn’t need.
“I’m not staring.”
“You’re absolutely staring. Like a lovesick puppy. It’s adorable and slightly embarrassing.”
“I’m not lovesick—”
“Reid, honey, you drove eight hours to surprise her. You’re texting constantly. You light up when she walks in a room. You’re the definition of lovesick. Own it.”
Was I that obvious?
“She’s moving here,” I said quietly. “After Christmas. Quitting her job. Moving to Pine Ridge. We’re—we’re doing this. For real.”
Rose’s face split into the biggest smile I’d ever seen. “Reid Foster, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you. For both of you. She belongs here. With you. With—with us.”
“Yeah. She does.”
“Have you told her about the building collapse? Everything? All of it?”
“Yeah. During the storm. She knows.”
“And she stayed anyway.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s how you know it’s real. When someone knows your worst and chooses you anyway. That’s—that’s the good stuff.”
Across the room, Hailey caught my eye. Smiled—real smile, not performance. Mouthed: You okay?
I nodded. Mouthed back: Perfect.
And I was. For the first time in three years, standing in a crowded room full of people, I was perfect.
Because she was here. Because we were building something real. Because—
Because I wasn’t hiding anymore.
Wade sidled up next. “So. Hailey’s moving here.”
“How did you—Rose told you.”
“Rose told everyone. Pine Ridge gossip network is highly efficient.”
Of course it was.
“You happy?” Wade asked.
“Yeah. Really happy. Terrified, but happy.”
“That’s normal. Big changes are scary. But Reid—you’re doing the thing. The scary thing. The trying thing. The—the living thing. I’m proud of you, brother.”
“Thanks. For—for not giving up on me. For pushing me. For—”
“For being your friend even when you were being an ass?” Wade grinned. “That’s what friends do. Now go dance with your girl before someone else asks her.”
There was music playing—Christmas songs, someone’s playlist—and couples were swaying in Rose’s living room. Hailey was talking to Morgan, both of them laughing, but when I approached, she turned immediately.
“Dance with me?” I asked.
“You dance?”
“No. But I’ll try. For you.”
Her smile was everything. “For me, huh?”
“Always for you.”
We swayed awkwardly—I had zero rhythm and she was giggling at my complete lack of coordination—but it was perfect anyway.
“I love this,” she said softly. “This town. These people. You. I love—I love being here. Feeling like I belong. Like—like I’m chosen. Not performing. Just—me. And that’s enough.”
“You’re more than enough.”
“Thank you. For—for this. For inviting me into your life. Your town. Your—your everything. For letting me come home.”
“Thank you for being brave enough to come home. For choosing this. Choosing—us.”
“Easiest choice I’ve ever made.”
We danced until the song ended, then another started—something slow and romantic—and I pulled her closer.
“Reid?” she said softly.
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you something. And—and I’m scared to say it because it might change things.”
My stomach dropped. “What is it?”
“I went to see someone in Seattle. Before I came here. Someone I—” She stopped. Started again. “I went to see your ex-fiancée. Vanessa.”
I went still. “What?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. But I—I needed to understand. Needed to know what happened. Why she left. Whether—whether you were still carrying that. So I looked her up. Found her firm. Went to see her.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I love you. And I could see you still blamed yourself. Still believed you were too broken to be loved. And I thought—I thought maybe if I understood what happened, I could help you see it differently. See—see that you’re not broken. That she was wrong to leave. That—”
“What did she say?” My voice was flat. Defensive.
“She said—” Hailey took a breath. “She said she regrets leaving. That she was scared and young and didn’t know how to handle your grief. That she thought she was doing the right thing but realizes now she just—she abandoned you when you needed her most. She said she’s sorry. And she said—she said you were the best man she’d ever known and she was an idiot to let you go.”
I didn’t know what to feel. Anger? Relief? Validation?
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know—she knows she was wrong. And maybe—maybe that helps. Maybe knowing she regrets it helps you forgive yourself. Helps you see that her leaving wasn’t about you being broken. It was about her not being strong enough. Her not—not being the right person.”
“And you are? The right person?”
It came out harsher than I meant. Defensive. Scared.
Her face fell. “I’m trying to be. I’m trying—I thought this would help. I thought—”
She pulled away. I let her go.
“I need air,” she said quietly. Grabbed her coat. Left.
Damn it.
Rose appeared immediately. “What did you do?”
“She went to see Vanessa. Behind my back. Talked to her about—about me. About us. About everything.”
“And you’re mad about that?”
“Shouldn’t I be? She had no right—”
“She did it because she loves you, you idiot. She did it because she’s trying to help you heal. And you just pushed her away because you’re scared. Classic Reid Foster move.”
She was right. I knew she was right.
“Go after her,” Rose said. “Before you screw this up completely.”
I found Hailey on Rose’s porch, hugging herself in the cold, trying not to cry.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone. Shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have interfered. It wasn’t my place. I just—I thought I was helping but I made it worse. I always make it worse. I’m too much. I’m always—”
“You’re not too much. And I’m sorry. For snapping. For—for being defensive. You were trying to help. Trying to—to fix something that’s been broken for three years. And I—I reacted badly.”
“You have every right to be mad. I crossed a line.”
“Maybe. But you crossed it because you love me. Because you wanted me to stop blaming myself. That’s—that’s not too much. That’s just right.”
She looked at me with red eyes. “Really?”
“Really. And—and thank you. For caring enough to do that. For being brave enough to face my ex-fiancée and—and fight for me. Fight for us. That’s—that’s extraordinary.”
“I just want you to be happy. To—to stop punishing yourself. To see that you’re worth loving. Worth choosing. Worth—worth everything.”
I pulled her close. “I’m starting to see it. Because of you. Because you keep showing me. Keep choosing me. Keep—keep loving me even when I’m defensive and scared and push you away. You keep staying. That’s—that’s everything.”
“I’m not leaving. I keep telling you that. I’m not Vanessa. I’m not going to abandon you when things get hard. I’m—I’m choosing you. Every day. Even the hard days. Especially the hard days.”
“I know. I’m sorry I doubted that. I’m sorry I—I made you feel like you were too much. You’re not. You’re perfect.”
“I’m really not.”
“You are for me.”
She smiled through tears. “Sappy mountain man.”
“Your fault entirely.”
“Good.” She kissed me—soft and forgiving. “Merry Christmas, Reid.”
“Merry Christmas, Hailey.”
We went back inside together. Back to the warmth and the people and the belonging.
Back to home.
Our home. The one we were building. Together.
It wasn’t perfect. We’d fight. We’d mess up. We’d—we’d figure it out.
But we’d do it together. That was what mattered.
That was everything.
Later that night, back at my cabin, lying in bed with her curled against me, I said: “Thank you. For seeing Vanessa. For—for trying to help me heal. I know I reacted badly but I—I appreciate it. What you did. What you’re always doing. Trying to fix things. Trying to help. That’s—that’s who you are. Don’t apologize for that.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. Happiest I’ve been in three years. Because of you. Because you—you made me believe I deserve this. Deserve happiness. Deserve—you.”
“You do. You deserve everything.”
“So do you. And I’m going to spend every day proving that to you. Proving you were chosen. That you belong. That you’re—you’re home. Forever.”
“Forever?”
“Forever. If you’ll have me.”
“I’ll have you. Always. Forever. However long forever is, I’m choosing you.”
She fell asleep in my arms, and I lay there thinking:
This was what I’d been hiding from. This connection. This vulnerability. This—this love.
I’d thought isolation would keep me safe. Keep everyone safe from me.
But Hailey proved the opposite. Love didn’t make me dangerous. Love made me—
Made me whole again. Made me want to build instead of hide. Made me—
Made me better.
She made me better.
And I’d spend the rest of my life trying to make her feel chosen. Loved. Home.
Because she deserved that.
She deserved everything.
And I’d give it to her.
Starting with this: permanence.
Tomorrow, Christmas morning, I was going to ask her to move in. Officially. Not as temporary. Not as trial.
As forever.
As home.
As—
As the beginning of something permanent.
Something real.
Something worth building.
Together.
Always together.
Forever.
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