“It is,” Sorcha replied. But the words sounded hollow, like a line from a script she’d rehearsed for years but no longer believed in.
She stared into the dancing flames, suddenly seeing not her future globe-trotting adventures but Christopher’s kitchen, theway they’d moved around each other with such natural ease, as if they’d been doing it for years.
“You don’t sound very excited,” Doreen observed, her voice gentler now. “Is everything okay?”
Sorcha pressed her fingers to her temple. “I’m just tired, I think. It’s been a long day.”
“I understand,” Doreen said, though her tone suggested she didn’t quite believe it. “We can talk details when you get back. The position wouldn’t start until after the holidays, anyway.”
“Right,” Sorcha murmured, her mind already racing ahead, calculating what this would mean. More travel, more exclusive locations, more prestige. Everything she’d worked toward since she’d left home to fulfill her dreams.
So why did it suddenly feel like a burden rather than a triumph?
“Well, I should let you get back to your article,” Doreen said. “And maybe get some rest. You sound…different.”
“Do I?” Sorcha asked, forcing lightness into her voice. “Must be the mountain air. Or the hot chocolate with candy-cane spoons.”
But she knew the truth. Knew what had changed her. Or who. Christopher.
After they said their goodbyes, Sorcha set her phone down and stared out the window again. The snow continued to fall, each flake unique and perfect, covering the world in clean white possibility.
Dominic had found someone who made him want to stay in one place. The thought circled in her mind like the snowflakes outside, refusing to settle. She’d always pitied people who “settled down,” seeing it as giving up rather than gaining something precious.
But what if she’d been wrong?
She picked up her phone and scrolled to the photo of Christopher against the mountains. There was something in his expression, a contentment, a belonging, that she’d never found despite all her travels.
The job offer should have thrilled her. Instead, it filled her with a strange emptiness, as if she were standing at a crossroads where both paths led somewhere unsatisfying.
Sorcha set the phone down and returned to her laptop, staring at the half-written article. The words that had flowed so easily before now seemed distant, disconnected from the turmoil inside her.
She began to type anyway, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. The article wouldn’t write itself, and she still had a deadline to meet, regardless of her confused feelings.
But as her fingers moved across the keyboard, describing the magic of Bear Creek at Christmas, she couldn’t help wondering if she was writing about a place she might never see again—or one she might someday dare to call home.
Chapter Nine – Christopher
This must be the longest night ever,Christopher’s bear grumbled as they finally finished the list of chores Gretel had left for him.
And it’s not even the witching hour,Christopher said, glancing at the clock as he entered the office and shrugged off his coat, hanging it by the door before he poured himself a cup of coffee.
But he might need more than coffee to stay awake tonight. He needed sleep.
So we’re refreshed, ready for another day of showing our mate Bear Creek,his bear said as he settled down happily for a snooze.
I have other chores to do and can’t sleep on the job,Christopher told his bear firmly.
Not even for our mate?his bear complained, still longing for rest.
Not even for our mate,Christopher replied, settling into the worn office chair. He placed his coffee mug on the desk and began unlacing his snow-dampened boots. Once they were removed, he stretched out his legs and wriggled his toes in front of the fire.
Ah, bliss.
The fire crackled in the small hearth, casting dancing shadows across the wooden walls. Christopher leaned back, allowing himself just a moment’s respite from his chores. Hisbones felt heavy, his muscles aching from the day’s exertions. Who knew sledding could make a grown man feel eight years old and eighty all at once?
He took a long sip, savoring the bitter warmth as it spread through his chest. Christopher’s eyelids grew heavy as he stared into the flames. As if in a trance, his awareness shifted, stretching outward from the office, past the trees, to Cabin 7.Sorcha. Even with his eyes closed, he could sense her presence. The connection between them had certainly strengthened over the course of the day.
She was sleeping; he could sense the slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing. What he wouldn’t give to be lying beside her with his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.
