1
RUBY
“I’m really goingto miss you guys,” I say, watching from the porch as Maddox loads my bags into the car.
His girlfriend, Sophia, slips an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll miss you too, but we’ll see you again for Christmas.”
“I know. I can’t wait!”
“Me neither.” Sophia smiles. “I’m so happy you found Maddox. It means the world to him that you’re back in his life.”
Finding my brother wasn’t easy. I was only nine when he fled our home in Florida, running from the law after a fight with my dad went too far. It took me fifteen years to track him down to the small town of Cherry Hollow. Despite the messy past we share, our reunion was everything I hoped it would be, and I’m thrilled to have my big brother back.
But I can’t stay in his cabin forever.
It’s too small for three people, and I’ve intruded long enough on his happiness with Sophia. My brother is totally obsessed with his sweet new girlfriend, and I want to give them some alone time for the holidays. So, I’ve rented a vacation cabin for the next few days.
“Don’t be a stranger, Rue,” Maddox says, joining us on the porch. The old nickname still makes me smile. “I want to see you right back here on Christmas morning, okay?”
I grin up at him. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
We hug each other tight, and Sophia gives me a quick squeeze.
“Thank you for everything,” I say, pulling back to look at them. “And thanks for the car, Sophia. I promise I’ll get it back to you in one piece.”
When I arrived on Cherry Mountain, I was driving an old rental from the airport. The fees got pretty crazy, so I returned it when I realized I’d be staying here a while. Luckily, Sophia seems happy to lend me her vehicle in the meantime.
“Don’t worry too much,” she says with a chuckle. “It’s barely in one piece as it is. Just drive safe, okay? The roads up here can be pretty wild.”
Maddox grunts in agreement, eyeing his girlfriend as he tells her, “Gonna buy you a truck soon, beautiful. Something made for the mountains.”
Suddenly their gazes lock, and I’m quickly reminded of why leaving them alone until Christmas is a good idea. These two always look like they’re about two seconds away from jumping each other’s bones. Not something I want to be around for.
We finish saying our goodbyes, and after one last hug, I head down the porch steps toward the rusty old car. I wave as I drive away, watching Maddox and Sophia in my rearview mirror. It’s hard to ignore the pang of sadness in my chest when they disappear from view. I’ll see them again on Christmas morning, and I’m super excited…but my flight back to Miami leaves on the 26th. After that, I’m not sure when I’ll get to see my brother and his girlfriend again.
I wish I could spend more time on Cherry Mountain. More time reconnecting with Maddox. But my bank accountis dangerously close to overdrawn. As a freelance event photographer, my income is already all over the place. I have a few trusted clients who keep my head above water, and I need to be available for them. There are lots of winter weddings in Florida; couples like to avoid the crazy heat and humidity of summer. So, if I’m going to afford January’s rent, I need to get back to taking beach photographs of smiling newlyweds as soon as possible.
I follow the road down the mountain, twisting and turning toward the small town of Cherry Hollow. My mood lifts when snow starts to fall outside, fat white flakes drifting lazily to the ground. Before I arrived in Colorado, I’d never seen snow before. Heck, it was nearly eighty degrees in Miami last December.
Maybe this will be my first white Christmas.
I arrive in Cherry Hollow a little while later, smiling at all the lights and decorations draped across every storefront. This place looks like a postcard. Even the grocery store looks quaint as I head inside to grab a few essentials, along with some cookie mix to bake and bring to Maddox’s cabin on Christmas Day.
The icy wind bites at my face and hands as I carry the stuff back to the car, snow swirling around the parking lot. But despite the cold, every stranger I pass is warm and friendly, greeting me with a chirpy, “Happy holidays!” or “Merry Christmas!”
This is my kind of town.
With everything I need to last me until Christmas, I plug in the address of the rental cabin and follow the directions back up the mountain and into the forest. Sophia’s car judders along the bumpy track, and the GPS loses signal as I drive deeper into the trees. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve already spotted a sign up ahead that reads “Snowfall Cabin,” the letters hewn onto an old hunk of wood.
The vacation cabin sits on top of a slope, raised off the ground by thick stilts so that it overlooks the treetops. Wooden stairs lead up to the front door, made of the same honey-colored pine as the rest of the structure. It looks like a treehouse.
I love it.
Grabbing my bags in both hands, I lug them out of the car and up the stairs. The code to the lockbox was emailed to me earlier, and I take the key from it before opening the front door.
The cabin is tiny.
My brother’s cabin is pretty small, but this place is barely half the size. I’m guessing that’s why this place was so cheap—I wanted somewhere that wouldn’t decimate the last of my savings. But despite the shoebox size, it’s the perfect place to spend the rest of the holidays. There’s a comfy little couch, a fireplace, and large windows overlooking the snow-covered treetops and the looming mountains in the distance. The view is breathtaking. I’m used to palm trees and flat sandy beaches, so the rugged landscapes of Crave County feel like something from another world.
