Ellie rolled her eyes but the corners of her mouth twitched.“That’s a change.”
Dasher dropped to a crouch next to her, close enough that his thigh brushed hers.She tried not to notice.Tried not to notice the warmth of his body, or how the cedar-and-smoke scent of his jacket made her throat tighten.
“You’ve been at this since five,” he said, more gently this time.“You sure you don’t want to call it?”
She shook her head.“There’s too much left to do.The drive’s in four days,” Ellie reminded him.
He nodded, then nudged the box of plushies with one boot.“Let’s sort and then do the tree.Sound fair?”
She hesitated.“You decorate?”
Dasher leaned back on his heels.“Not exactly known for my interior design skills, no.But I can hang an ornament,” he said.
Their eyes met for a heartbeat too long.
“I remember,” Ellie said before she could stop herself, the words softer than she meant.“You used to hang the weirdest ornaments.”
“The beer bottle one was a classic,” he said with a low chuckle.“Don’t lie.”
She looked away, cheeks warming.He hadn’t changed that much, not where it counted.He still had that same crooked smile that melted her defenses.Still looked at her like she was something worth holding onto, even if he never had.
They sorted the last of the toys in silence, side by side.The soft hum of the space heater and the occasional rustle of wrapping paper filled the air.Outside, snow whispered against the pavement.
The tree was fake of course, but still charming, with its wiry branches and box of mismatched ornaments.By the time they stood in front of the six-foot tree, Ellie felt oddly light.Like she’d spent the last few hours with someone who remembered who she’d been—before she became the version of herself who color-coded spreadsheets and scheduled dentist appointments for Maddy.
Dasher plugged in the lights and gave a low whistle.“It’s crooked,” he pointed out.
“It’s not crooked,” Ellie argued, eyeing the tree.“It’s just ...leaning with confidence.”
That made him laugh, the sound warm and genuine.“Sure.Let’s call it that.”
She handed him a tangle of silver garland.“You hang, I’ll direct.”
“Bossy,” he said under his breath.
“You knew what this was when you volunteered.”
“I was assigned, sweetheart,” he reminded her.
“Same difference.”
He moved up and down a stepladder, looping the garland while she hung ornaments.They worked in a rhythm that surprised her—comfortable, efficient, almost easy.Every so often their fingers brushed as they reached for the same decoration.She didn’t pull back.
“So,” he said as he adjusted a too-heavy ornament near the top, “Maddy.She’s a good kid.”
Ellie froze mid-hang.“You just met her for five seconds,” she pointed out.
“Long enough to know she’s got your eyes.”His voice was quiet now, thoughtful.“And your fire.”
“She’s got her own fire,” Ellie murmured, trying not to get sucked into the way he was watching her.“She’s her own person.I’m just trying not to mess her up.”
Dasher’s gaze didn’t waver.“You won’t,” he told her.
She wasn’t used to people saying that.Not with such confidence.
“You really regret it?”she asked, surprising herself.“Choosing the club over me?”
His hand tightened on the ladder.“Every damn day.”
