A Wyoming Christmas To Remember. Melissa Senate

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      Maddie’s eyes fluttered open as she felt Sawyer suddenly bolt up beside her. She heard the doorbell ring—twice. Then a third time.

      She sat up and glanced at her phone on her bedside table. It was 12:19 a.m.

      “Someone’s at the door?” she asked.

      His phone pinged, and he grabbed it, reading the screen. “Oh man.”

      “What?”

      “It’s my brother. He’s the one ringing the bell.” He texted something back, then got out of bed. “I’ll handle this. Try to go back to bed, Maddie. You need your sleep.”

      Sawyer had a brother? No one mentioned a brother.

      There was no way she was going back to bed. Sawyer’s brother was at the door after midnight, pounding on the ringer and texting? Something was definitely up.

      She found a terry bathrobe on a hook in the bathroom and put it on, then tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the bottom step as Sawyer reached the door. Unless she was mistaken, he took a breath before pulling open the door.

      Standing there, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, was a younger version of Sawyer, with shaggier and lighter hair. He wore a black leather bomber jacket and a thick black ski hat. He had an overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

      Before he could say a word, Sawyer barked, “Cole, it’s really late. And Maddie’s not feeling well.”

      “Yeah, hello to you,” Cole said.

      Sawyer didn’t invite him in. “The last time you needed a place to crash and I let you stay a couple days, you robbed us blind and disappeared. If you need a place to stay, I’ll front you some money I know I’ll never see again, but you can’t stay here.”

      “I’m not looking to stay here,” Cole said, his body language all fidgety and nervous. “Um, look, it’s not good for the twins to be out in the cold so long, okay?”

      “What?” Sawyer asked. “What twins?”

      Cole leaned down and picked something up out of view. Sawyer stepped onto the porch and Maddie heard his gasp. She rushed toward the door as Cole came inside carrying two infant car seats, a baby asleep in each one.

      Sawyer stared at the babies, shutting the door behind him. “What the hell is going on? Whose babies are these?”

      Cole put the car seats down on the foyer rug, then dropped the bag off his shoulder, rubbing his face with both hands. He looked absolutely miserable. And nervous.

      Maddie stepped out of the shadows. “Hi.”

      “Hey, Maddie.” Cole nodded at her, his expression warmer, and she had the feeling they’d gotten along at some point or that she’d been kind to him. “Whoa, what happened to you? That’s some bump on your forehead.”

      “Car accident,” she said. “I’m okay, though.”

      He nodded and reached out to squeeze her hand. Yup, she’d been right. They had definitely gotten along—or just better than Cole and his brother did.

      “What the hell, Cole?” Sawyer barked. “Whose babies are these?”

      “I got an ex pregnant,” he answered, his voice shaky. “We got back together, but then I was fired from my job, and she told me forget it and hooked up with someone else, but he said no way is he gonna be a father. So she went into labor yesterday and called me and I rushed over. I witnessed the birth—wow, that was something.” He shook his head. “And I thought maybe my ex would say she wanted us to have a second chance, but she told me she wasn’t ready for motherhood and didn’t want the twins. She even signed away her parental rights. Unless I accepted responsibility for them, the state would have put them up for adoption.”

      This time Maddie gasped. She looked down at the two infants—newborns—asleep in the carriers.

      “Good Lord,” Sawyer said, shaking his head.

      Cole closed his eyes for a second, his expression pained. “I stood outside the hospital nursery, staring through the glass at their bassinets and holding the forms to give up my rights so they could be placed for adoption. A nurse saw me struggling, I guess. She came over and told me that allowing them to be placed for adoption could be the best thing I could do for them if I couldn’t take care of them. She said it was up to me, that I was their father. Damn that word, Sawyer. Father. Father. Father.” His eyes brimmed with tears, and he slashed a hand underneath and sucked in a breath.

      Sawyer put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his expression full of so many emotions Maddie couldn’t begin to pick them out.

      “But I couldn’t sign, Sawyer,” Cole continued. “I couldn’t just abandon them completely like that. I know what it’s like to be tossed aside.”

      Maddie’s chest constricted. She had no idea what Cole’s story was—and from what she knew, he wasn’t raised with Sawyer next door to the MacLeods, or his name would have come up. But whatever his story was, it certainly didn’t sound good.

      Cole dropped down on the bottom step of the staircase, covering his face with his hands, then stood up and paced. “My name is on the application for the birth certificate that Gigi started filling out—and they look like me, I can see that, even though I thought all babies just looked like babies. They’re mine. But I can’t take care of them. I can’t take care of myself.”

      “Jesus, Cole,” Sawyer said, his gaze moving from his brother to the infants.

      “The twins were cleared to leave, and the nurses told me what to buy before I could leave with them—two infant car seats. She also told me to buy some newborn-sized pajamas. When I returned with all that, they gave me a starter pack of diapers and formula and other stuff I’d need. I sat in my car in the hospital parking lot for a half hour with the twins in the back seat and completely panicked, no clue what to do, what to think, how I was gonna do this. Then I drove here.”

      “Did you name them?” Maddie asked gently.

      Cole didn’t respond; he just ran a hand through his hair. He looked so frantic. “I’m gonna get their other bag from my car. Be right back.”

      He dashed out, closing the door behind him. Sawyer stared at Maddie, then looked at the two sleeping infants in the carriers again. They looked so peaceful, blissfully unaware of all that had happened since they came into the world just a day ago. All that was going on now.

      Maddie heard a car start and peel away, tires screeching.

      Sawyer raced to the door and flung it open, rushing out to the porch. Maddie followed, pulling her bathrobe tighter around her in the cold December night air.

      She saw the car’s red taillights barely pause at the stop sign up on Main Street before turning right. Maddie recalled the sign for the freeway in that direction. “He’s not coming back tonight, is he?” she said. More a statement than a question.

      Sawyer took her hand and led her inside, closing and locking the door behind them. He stared at the babies, then at her. “I’m not sure he’s ever coming back.”