Liam crossed the yard in just a few long strides, his gloved hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, his expression unreadable but focused on her.
“Who knew,” he said, low and casual, stopping just close enough that the crisp winter air between them practically crackled, “that you are just as competitive with snowmen as you are Christmas lights.”
She raised a brow. “I take my snowmen seriously.”
“I can tell.” He hesitated then looked over her shoulder at the slowly dispersing crowd. “Hey, before everything kicks off again—want to go ice skating on Wednesday morning? Before the shops open. No crowds. Just us.”
She could picture it already—the frozen lake, the morning frost still clinging to the branches, the two of them gliding across the ice as the town slowly woke up. Just them, the snow, and the hush of a new day.
“I’d like that,” she said, her voice soft.
His gaze lingered, warm and unreadable. “Good. I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”
Cassidy nodded, but inside she was already lacing up her skates, breath fogging in the early-morning air, cheeks flushed from the cold—or maybe from him. And as she watched him walk away, hands in his pockets, that easy, quiet strength in every step, she knew Wednesday morning couldn’t come fast enough.
TWENTY-FOUR
LIAM
Wednesday, December 10th
Cassidy’s door creaked open just as he reached it. She stepped outside, bundled in a white puffer coat, striped mittens, hair tucked into a knit hat, and that scarf Liam had returned to her yesterday. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. That look right there? It made the cold worth it.
“You’re punctual,” she said, voice bright as if she always woke up to go ice skating at dawn.
“I’m a man of my word,” Liam replied, handing over a cup. “I figured we could both use some coffee.”
Cassidy took it with a pleased smile. “You trying to bribe me into letting you win the competition?”
“Would it work?”
“Absolutely not.”
They walked side by side down the snowy street, boots crunching in sync. The world around them was a still, blue hush. Even the lake, when it came into view, looked asleep beneath its smooth sheet of ice.
As they approached, the first hints of sunrise kissed the horizon. Pale gold bled into lavender and peach, casting softlight over the frozen water. It shimmered like glass, rimmed with frost-laced branches and a few early birds darting overhead. The rink was empty. Just them, the ice, and the slow, steady waking of the world.
Liam watched Cassidy take it all in, her breath fogging in the air. She turned to him with that look again—the one that made something in his chest pull tight.
“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the rental shed, already unlocking it with the spare key. “Time to show off my moves.”
“I should’ve stretched,” she muttered, lacing up her skates.
“You think you’ll be sore?” he asked, standing and offering a hand to help her up.
“I think I’ll be sore, humiliated, and possibly concussed.”
“I’ll try not to laugh. Much.”
Liam took off first, skating backward with practiced ease.
“Show-off,” Cassidy called, trying not to topple forward. She took one tentative step at a time, like a toddler learning to walk.
“More like years of hockey.” Liam skated toward her. “Here,” he said, taking both of her hands so that they were face to face. “I’ve got you.”
She gripped his hands tightly, cheeks flushed from the cold, or maybe, Liam thought, from something else.
He moved slowly, guiding her gently across the frozen lake, glancing over his shoulder now and then to make sure their path stayed clear.
