Page 58 of Wild Heart

With Malcolm’s gift opened, Evelyn stuck her hand into a jar, pulled out a slip of paper, and said, “Okay, first to receive a gift after Dad is Jules. Who had Jules?”

Rhea popped up out of her seat. “That’s me!” She selected the gift under the tree and held it out to her sister-in-law. “Merry Christmas, Jules.”

As Jules took the gift from Rhea, I stopped paying attention to what was happening in front of me and started considering the possibilities for how this would play out. Obviously, I’d chosen Skye, so there was nothing to worry about there. But I wondered who had picked me.

In all the years I’d been part of this family tradition with the Westwoods, I’d only ever selected Tate’s name once. It had been years ago. Tate hadn’t ever drawn my name from the jar. What if he’d gotten it this year? Would the worst-case scenario actually turn out to be what happened here?

I couldn’t imagine things would go well. After the way things had gone when I’d tried to give him his birthday gift—I wasn’t even sure if he’d picked it up later and taken it home with him that night—I couldn’t handle a repeat situation.

I was vaguely paying attention when Liam’s name was called next. Ivy had drawn her brother’s name. And when Tate’s name was called, I watched Cooper rise from his seat. With each name that was called that wasn’t mine and Tate didn’t move to grab a gift, I grew more and more concerned that my worst fears would be realized.

“We only have two names left in here,” Evelyn said, reaching for the next piece of paper. The names ran through my mind—Ivy and me. And the only remaining gift givers were Tate and Wyatt.

Please,I thought.Please let Wyatt be the one who pulled my name.

Evelyn pulled out the paper, read the name, and looked at her oldest daughter. “Ivy.”

To my utter horror, Wyatt stood. This couldn’t be happening. My gaze fell to my lap, something twisting in my belly. Of all the things, it had to be this.

Everyone here already knew there was some tension between Tate and me. This felt akin to being pushed out naked onto a stage in front of an audience.

I didn’t even know what gift Wyatt had gotten his sister, because my mind was scrambling. All I knew was that I heard Evelyn when she said, “And it looks like Ava’s the last one.”

There was just barely a moment of hesitation as Tate’s eyes met mine before he stood and moved toward the tree to get the gift.

I wanted to look away. I wanted to get up and run out of the house. Fear kept me right where I was. Tate came to a stop in front of me, held out the gift, and never took his eyes off mine as his voice dipped low. “Merry Christmas, Ava.”

My heart was pounding so hard, I could hear it in my ears. And the pain in my throat as I attempted to swallow past the boulder that had lodged itself there was unbearable. I didn’t want to take the gift.

It wasn’t more than a few seconds later when I finally reached up and took the gift from Tate. Of all the years for him to have selected my name. “Thank you,” I rasped, dropping my eyes to the gift in my hands.

With trembling hands, I unwrapped the paper, noting how perfectly it had been affixed to the gift. Had he wrapped this himself, or did he have someone else do it?

What was I going to find inside?

Once I had it removed and revealed the plain box beneath, my nerves and the trembling I felt in my belly seemed to increase. I swallowed hard, glanced up at him once more, and removed the lid.

Tissue paper was in the way, so I set the box on my lap, shifted the paper to the side, and discovered something that had my heart squeezing.

It was a stunning silver picture frame that was engraved along the bottom edge.

Home is where the heart is.

Maybe I could have just accepted it as it was and not looked into the deeper meaning behind it—was it an unintended slight against my foolish choice to leave Landing—but the problem was that Tate had put a photo in the frame.

And that photo was one of the two of us taken sometime not long before I left to go on tour, back when things were good between us. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Seeing that photo, feeling the stares of everyone else in the room on us, it became too much.

I looked up at Tate again, tears in my eyes, and thought I saw a hint of worry and regret in his.

“I need a minute,” I rasped. I stood and set the gift down on my seat. “Excuse me.”

Then I dashed out of the room and toward the bathroom.

The second I closed the bathroom door behind me, I pressed my palms on the counter of the sink and tried to breathe. Tears spilled down my cheeks.

I didn’t know what to feel. I was sad, angry, hurt, and frustrated. My heart ached; my mind running ragged. I was torn between how much I missed him and how badly I never wanted to see him again.