Two bars blink to life.
I don’t hesitate.
I call Sandra, the showrunner.
It rings once before her chipper voice answers. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite little holiday hussy!”
“Sandra,” I exhale, breath shaking.
“Noel? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know. Listen—I’m packing up. The snow’s bad, but as soon as the plows come through, I’m heading back to the city.”
“What? Wait, what happened? Is it the cabin? Did that mountain man finally eat you alive?”
I flinch.
Not far off.
“Something came up,” I say flatly. “Just let the producers know I’m pulling out of the contest. You can keep the footage for the teaser or whatever, but I’m done.”
“Noel—no. You’re the frontrunner. We hadPeoplemagazine call about a holiday feature. Youcan’tjust leave.”
“I have to.”
Silence buzzes on the other end.
And then, softer: “Did something happen with him?”
I swallow.
Tears threaten again, stupid and hot.
“Just tell them thanks,” I whisper. “But I’m going home.”
I hang up before she can say more.
I slide off the chair and finish folding the last of my sweaters, each one smelling faintly of smoke and cedar. Like him. Like the night I thought meant something.
I tug my suitcase toward the door.
And I wait.
Alone.
Wrapped in silence.
Praying for snowplows. Praying for peace. Praying I didn’t just fall for a man who disappeared the moment things got real.
Because the worst part?
I already miss him.
And I don’t even know if he’s coming back.
Chapter 17
Nash
