Chapter one
Alex
The evening train shuddered to a stop in Yuletide Valley, brakes squealing against frozen rails. I gripped my leather weekender, heart hammering.
Fifteen years of Broadway had taught me about dramatic timing—the buildup, the reveal, and the audience reaction. Unfortunately, this wasn't a performance. This was a surrender.
"End of the line," the conductor announced. "Yuletide Valley, where it's Christmas every day of the year." He winked. "And if you're lucky, the magic finds you too."
At eighteen, getting out of Yuletide Valley had dominated every waking thought. Now here I was at thirty-three, creeping back with a closet full of chorus costumes and a spectacular meltdown on my resume. Three panic attacks duringPhantomcallbacks. That's what it took to end a career—well, that and eight months of unprocessed grief.
The moment I stepped onto the platform, warmth washed over me despite the falling snow. Not train heat. It was something more profound. It sank into my bones and whisperedhome.
The town square teemed with tourists, their laughter floating up while snowflakes drifted down in patterns too perfect to be natural. The massive Christmas tree's lights pulsed gently with the carolers' songs. I ducked my head, praying for invisibility.
I'd forgotten how alive my hometown felt during the season. Like the air itself was celebrating.
Cedar Street offered a quieter route, though even there the historic buildings screamed Christmas cheer. I tried to slip past Holly's Apothecary—one of the few shops I'd loved as a kid. The window display hadn't changed: crystalline snowflakes holding captured starlight, herbs bundled with silver thread, and candles flickering despite being unlit.
My right foot hit the ice.
Time stopped. For one impossible heartbeat, I hung suspended, snowflakes frozen mid-fall like I'd stumbled into a snow globe. Then time snapped back, and I was falling.
"Alex? Alex Garland?"
Mrs. Brubaker's voice cut through my descent. The crack of my tailbone against the ice punctuated her query.
"Alex! Don't move—Ben, help him!"
Strong, callused hands gripped mine. Heat bloomed where our skin touched.
He pulled me to my feet, and I looked up—and up—into eyes the color of hot chocolate, flecked with gold.
Wheat-blond hair. Flannel stretched across shoulders that made my mouth go dry. The scents of cedar, pine, and cinnamon clung to him, making me want to lean forward and breathe him in.
His hands slid from my wrists to my biceps and lingered. Even through my coat, I felt the heat of his palms.
"You okay?" His voice was warm and resonant. "That looked painful."
"Just my dignity." I tried for a smile, aware of his thumbs rubbing small circles against my arms. "And possibly my tailbone."
A dimple appeared when he grinned, and desire pooled low in my stomach. "I'm Ben. Ben Blitzen."
"I remember you. You were a few years behind me in school."
"Three years behind." His gaze dropped to my mouth before meeting my eyes again. "You played Danny Zuko inGreasemy freshman year. Changed my life, actually." He brushed snowflakes off my shoulder. "Guess I owe you for that."
The air between us was electric, like in a thunderstorm. A streetlight nearby flared brighter, then settled.
Holly swept past in jingling bracelets, gathering my scattered belongings. Up close, I caught the scent of herbs, wood smoke, and something wild, like a forest at midnight.
"Inside, both of you." She thrust my bag at Ben. "Mind the step—it's blessed for safe passage, but you still have to watch your feet."
They ushered me into Holly's Apothecary. Lavender, sage, chamomile, and rosemary filled the air. Bundles of dried herbs swayed as they hung from the ceiling. A woodstove crackled in a corner.
Candles flickered in enticing colors. Amethyst-tinged, rose-gold, and the pale green of new leaves.
"Sit." Holly pointed at overstuffed armchairs near the fire.
