He looks…good.
Too good.
I open the door a crack.
“Morning,” I call.
He glances back, that familiar tug at the corner of his mouth appearing and disappearing in a second. “You’re up early.”
“So are you.”
“Storm dropped more snow than I expected,” he says. “Roof needed clearing before the sun hits it.”
I step out onto the porch, blanket wrapped around my shoulders like a cape. “You should’ve woken me. I could’ve helped.”
“You were sleeping.”
I blink. “How did you know?”
“You’re quiet when you sleep.”
I stare. “You… came to check on me?”
He looks away, brushing snow from the railing. “Door was cracked open a little when I walked by. Just made sure you were warm enough.”
Warmth blooms from the center of my chest outward. “Thank you.”
He clears the last of the snow, nods toward the doorway. “You shouldn’t be out here without shoes.”
“Bossy,” I say.
“Correct,” he replies.
I step back inside with a smile that is absolutely, one hundred percent, embarrassingly obvious.
He comes in a few minutes later, brushing snow off his shoulders. “Coffee?”
“Yes,” I say instantly. “Always.”
While he pours, I open the curtains. The world outside glows white—fresh snow softening every hard line, the sky a pale watercolor blue. The tree stands tall in the corner, faintly sparkling even without lights.
“My family loves Christmas mornings,” I say absently. “My mom used to make us wait at the top of the stairs until she lit all the twinkle lights. She said the glow made magic feel real.”
Calder hands me my mug. Our fingers brush again, that now-familiar static passing between us like a quiet promise.
“You grew up with big holidays?” he asks.
“Very big,” I say. “Too big. Loud. Color-coded. Tiered dessert tables. Elaborate traditions. Glitter everywhere. Unless the house looked like the North Pole exploded, my mom wasn’t satisfied.”
He huffs. “Sounds like the opposite of my childhood.”
“Better or worse?”
He considers. “Just…different.”
I sip my coffee. “Do you miss it?”
“The quiet parts,” he says. “The simple parts. The rest…” He shrugs. “Grief turned it into something else.”
