“Hey! Welcome to Vermont.”
The taller one nods, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion at my palpable excitement. “Where do you want us to start, boss?”
“Oh, right!” I laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Let’s tackle the living room first. I’ve got a vision! Let me open the door for you and get my suitcases out of the way.”
As they start unloading, I find myself slipping into director mode. “The couch goes there—no, a little to the left. Perfect! Now, let’s get that bookcase by the window.”
With each piece of furniture finding its place, the empty shell of the duplex starts to feel like home.
The armchair where I’ll curl up with a good book and a cup of hot cocoa on chilly nights. The rug that ties the whole room together. It’s perfect.
A warm feeling spreads through my chest as I arrange throw pillows on the couch. This is really happening. I’m really here.
“Hey, where do you want these boxes labeledMom’s Stuff?” one of the movers calls out.
I pause, my throat tightening for a moment. “Oh, um, just put those in the spare room for now, please. I’ll go through them later.”
As the last box is brought in and the movers depart with a friendly wave, I find myself standing alone in my new living room. The space is a mix of organized chaos and half-arranged furniture, but it’s mine. All mine.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and let the reality of the moment wash over me. When I open them, I smile.
“Well, Caspian,” I say to myself, “welcome home.”
I flop onto the couch, stretching out and reveling in the feeling of possibility that permeates the air.
“Mom,” I whisper, looking out the window into the now-dark sky, “I think I’m going to like it here. I hope I make you proud.”
CHAPTER 4
NATE
The steady scrape of the shovel against concrete fills the air as I clear the driveway I share with my neighbor. The rhythm is meditative, each push and lift of snow creating a satisfying pattern that helps quiet my mind after my trip to Burlington.
Three days later, I still can’t shake the memory of warm hands, dark eyes, and those fucking sexy sounds he made. These hookups are supposed to be forgettable—that’s the whole point—but something about this one is lingering.
I got back later than planned, missing whatever commotion my new neighbor’s arrival might have caused. Maybe the physical labor will help clear my head and push away thoughts of a stranger who managed to get under my skin despite the anonymous nature of our encounter.
The fresh powder sparkles in the weak January sun, almost making up for the bite in the air. Almost. I pause to adjust my gloves, surveying the progress I’ve made. The driveway has been solely my responsibility since the old neighbor moved out before winter hit. Clearing it alone has been manageable, but with someone new moving in, we should probably work out a system to share the task.
The sound of tires crunching on snow breaks through my thoughts. I glance over to see a dark-blue Subaru pulling onto the road in front of the house. My new neighbor emerges, arms laden with shopping bags. He’s shorter than me, with black hair and sun-kissed skin. He’s wearing what could generously be called a spring jacket—the kind of light windbreaker that makes every Vermonter wince in January. He may as well be wearing a billboard announcingNot From Around Here. The thin material does nothing to hide his slender but athletic build as he shivers slightly in the biting cold, his breath creating little puffs of steam in the winter air.
He’s struggling with the bags, but there’s a determined set to his shoulders as he makes his way up the snow-covered driveway. I find myself watching, shovel forgotten in my hands, as he navigates the slippery path with what appears to be sheer optimism rather than caution.
Before I can call out a warning, he turns slightly and bumps right into me. The collision sends several bags tumbling, spilling groceries across the snow.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” His words tumble out in a rush as he tries to steady himself after our collision, but I don’t miss the warmth in his voice, defying the freezing temperatures. “I didn’t see you there, which is ridiculous because you’re not exactly small—” He cuts himself off, and I don’t dislike the way his cheeks flush pink.
Cute.
A few oranges roll across the snow while a loaf of bread lands with a soft thump at our feet. His dark eyes meet mine with an endearing mix of embarrassment and humor as he shifts the remaining bags in his arms. “I mean—I’m Caspian. Caspian Lane. I’d shake your hand, but…” He gestures helplessly at the scattered groceries with his still-full arms, nearly losing his grip on another bag in the process. There’s something disarmingly charming about his flustered state, the way he’s trying to maintain dignity while surrounded by his spilled shopping.
“Nathan Stone, but you can call me Nate,” I reply, bending to help gather the fallen items. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
I’m reaching for a wayward orange when a familiar voice rings out across the yard. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
Addy approaches with her characteristic bounce, paint-spattered overalls a stark contrast against the pristine snow. Her curls escape from under a woolen beanie and that familiar mischievous glint in her eye usually means trouble for me.
“Hi!” Caspian’s face lights up with genuine warmth as he greets her, somehow managing to juggle his remaining bags and wave at the same time. “I’m Caspian, the new neighbor. And apparently also the neighborhood klutz.”
