"Hi."
One syllable. One stupid syllable, and my heart forgets all the reasons I built those walls and told myself I was better off without him in my life. My pulse kicks up.
"Hi?" I barely recognize my own voice, sharp with disbelief. "After all the crap, you open with, 'Hi'?"
He flinches, those stupidly blue eyes darkening with something dangerously close to regret. "I deserve that."
"You deserve a lot more than that." The words tumble out. "You just left! Told Brodie to say goodbye to me like some coward!"
"Ivy." My name slips from his mouth, barely more than a breath. "I fucked up. Not just the leaving part, but everything before that too. I was scared of what I was feeling, so I ran. And then, when I realized what a massive idiot I'd been, you'd already blocked me everywhere." He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in that way that used to make me want to fix it. Still does. Damnit. "I don't blame you for that. I earned that block button."
I stare at him, caught off guard by this direct honesty. No jokes, no deflection, just truth.
He shoves his hands deeper in his pockets. "I was a coward. Figured if I waited long enough, you'd hate me less. Real genius strategy there." His laugh is hollow. "Look, I know sorry doesn't fix anything. But Iamsorry. For leaving without a word. For acting like an ass when things got serious. For taking you for granted. For being too chickenshit to face my own feelings until I'd already lost you."
I had rehearsed what I'd say if this moment ever came. A cutting line. A clean end. But none of it makes it past the lump in my throat.
"Thanks for the apology," I manage finally. "Doesn't mean you're forgiven."
"I know." His dimples flash, but it's not his usual cocky grin. This one's softer, almost uncertain. "Not expecting forgiveness. Just a chance to earn it back. To make you believe I can change. That I can be someone worthy of your trust again. Your friendship."
Something in my chest deflates at that last word, but I push the feeling aside. "Whatever. Since you're here, we might as well go pick this tree."
His smile grows more genuine, a hint of that old playfulness creeping in. "Lead the way, Shortcake." His voice drops lower. "You pick, I'll follow wherever you go."
I angle my face away before he notices how those words affect me, stomping toward the rows of trees. The snow crunches satisfyingly under my boots, giving voice to all the things I'm not saying.
Like how much I missed him. Or howfriendshipmight be all he's offering, but my stupid heart is already hoping for more.
The morning air grows crisper as we venture deeper into the farm, surrounded by rows of evergreens dusted with fresh snow. Families weave between the trees around us, their excited voices carrying on the winter breeze, but somehow Caleb and I exist in our own quiet bubble ofunspoken words.
"How about this one?" He gestures to a tree that's clearly seen better days. "It's got character."
"It's missing half its branches on one side."
"Adds mystery." He circles the sad specimen. "Keep people guessing what's on the other side."
Despite myself, a faint smile pulls at my lips. "The town square tree needs to be perfect."
"Perfect's boring." But he's already moving on, pointing out trees with the same careful attention he used to give my crystal collection—pretending to take it seriously while secretly amusing himself.
"That one?" He nods toward a towering pine.
"Too tall."
"This guy?"
"Too short."
"So picky." He weaves between two trees, ducking under snow-laden branches. "What about—whoah!"
His foot hits a patch of hidden ice, and suddenly he's windmilling backward, grabbing for the nearest branch. The movement sends a cascade of snow directly onto his head, covering him in white powder like some sort of winter karma.
I try to hold it in. I really do. But the sight of him standing there, spitting out snow with his hair full of ice crystals, breaks me. A giggle bubbles up before I can bite it back.
"Oh sure, laugh at my pain," he grumbles, shaking his head sending snow flying.
"That's what you get for not dressing properly." I gesture at his completely inadequate outfit. "Did Boston make you forget how winter works?"
