Ellie sighed and padded into the living room, tea still in hand.She curled up on the corner of the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and pulling the throw blanket over her lap.
The Christmas lights strung across the mantle were still on, casting a soft multicolored glow across the walls.The tree stood tall in the corner, trimmed in handmade ornaments and a crooked paper star Maddy had insisted on making all by herself.The living room smelled faintly like pine and cinnamon.
It felt like home.But there was a space tonight, a little hollow pocket in her chest that hadn’t been there before.Something she didn’t want to name, because naming it made it real.
Hope.She’d buried it deep years ago, under layers of plans and responsibility and doing everything right for Maddy.Hope was dangerous.Hope led to heartbreak.
And yet Dasher had stood beside her tonight like he belonged there.Like he wanted to be there.He hadn’t tried to win her over with grand apologies or dramatic speeches.He’d just shown up.Helped.Listened.And looked at her like he remembered exactly what it had been like to love her.
Ellie took a sip of her lukewarm tea and stared at the twinkling lights.The wind howled outside, but inside, everything was still.
She told herself it was nothing.That the almost-kiss was just nostalgia, mixed with exhaustion and soft lighting.That they were working together for the kids, for the toy drive, for the town.That she was tired and sentimental and a little overwhelmed.But deep down, where her heart still carried the shape of him, she wasn’t so sure.
She reached over and pulled the small knit penguin Maddy had left on the couch onto her lap.Its little yarn beak was slightly crooked.
“I’m not doing this again,” she whispered to the quiet.
The penguin didn’t answer.Ellie smiled despite herself and rested her chin on her knees.Maybe Dasher had changed.Maybe he hadn’t.But one almost-kiss wasn’t enough to shake the life she’d built.She had Maddy.She had a home.She had plans and systems and lists that kept her world turning.
Still ...when she finally turned off the lights and climbed into bed, Ellie let herself remember what it had felt like.The brush of Dasher’s fingertips when he passed her the string of lights, the glint in his eyes when he teased her, the hush in the room when he’d leaned just a little too close.And the look on his face when she’d said tomorrow.Tomorrow was a promise.She wasn’t ready to make any.
Chapter Five
Dasher stood on Ellie’sfront porch, a cardboard drink tray balanced in one hand and a paper bag of still-warm pastries in the other.The December wind tugged at his coat, but he didn’t move to ring the doorbell just yet.
He wasn’t stalling.Okay, maybe he was.It was early.Not too early, just past eight, but early enough that his breath fogged in the air, and quiet still blanketed the street.
Everything looked soft with snow, the lawn glittering with frost, the neighborhood hushed in that familiar, peaceful way mornings got in Sugar Falls before the world stirred.
He stared at the door for another beat.
He hadn’t planned this.Not exactly.He’d told himself last night that he’d give her space after what almost happened.After what he almost did.But the truth was, he hadn’t slept.All night, the memory of her eyes looking up at him, the way she’d leaned just a fraction closer, had played on a loop in his head.The unspokenwhat ifhaunted him more than anything she could’ve said.
So here he was.Showing up like an idiot with coffee and cinnamon rolls from Gilly’s, hoping it didn’t make him look desperate.Or worse, like he was trying too hard.
He knocked once, then again after a few seconds.The door opened a crack.
