“Yay!” He cheers.
We bundle up, layering scarves and gloves and hats like armor against the storm.
Noelle crouches in front of Eli, her breath coming out in pale clouds as she wraps an extra scarf around his neck, tucking it snugly under his chin.
His little face peeks out from the bundle—rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, the kind of picture you’d see on a Christmas card.
“There,” she murmurs, adjusting the edge of his hat so it covers his ears. “All set, Frost Elf.”
He giggles at that, and something in her face softens.
The sight squeezes at my chest.
I shove my hands into my pockets, pretending to check the time on my phone so I don’t linger on it too long.
The second we step outside, the cold slaps us square in the face.
The wind cuts through our coats like knives, and the snow’s coming down harder than before—thick, blinding sheets that swallow sound and blur everything into a white haze.
The walk to the hotel isn’t long—normally, it would’ve been a quick ten minutes—but tonight, it feels endless.
The storm’s lashing us with icy gusts, stinging our faces, soaking through gloves and sleeves.
The snow’s piled high enough that every step sinks deep, and our boots crunch rhythmically as we trudge forward through the chaos.
Cal leads the way, head down, his broad shoulders hunched against the wind. He keeps one arm out slightly to his side, a makeshift shield for Eli, who trudges behind him, holding tightly to Noelle’s gloved hand.
The kid’s doing his best to keep up, his little boots slipping every few steps, but he never complains—just grits his teeth and pushes on, stubborn and determined.
I hang back half a pace, close enough to grab either of them if they stumble.
Noelle’s quiet, her focus glued to Eli, her lips moving occasionally as she murmurs small reassurances over the howl of the storm.
But every so often, her eyes flick to me—just for a heartbeat.
It’s nothing more than a glance, but it’s enough.
Enough to make my pulse pick up, enough to stir up every memory I’ve been trying to bury for six years.
The flicker of firelight on her skin.
The taste of her name on my lips.
The sound of her breath when she whispered mine.
I clench my jaw, forcing my gaze back to the storm. This isn’t the time.
By the time we reach the hotel, we’re soaked and half-frozen, our faces raw from the wind.
The glow spilling from the glass doors feels like salvation. Inside, the lobby hums softly—emergency lights casting everything in a warm amber glow, the hum of a generator somewhere in the background.
The air is blessedly warm, carrying the faint smell of coffee and cinnamon-scented candles.
Cal pushes the door open, letting Noelle and Eli in first. The blast of heat makes Eli sigh audibly in relief. “It’s warm!” he says, his voice echoing off the marble floor as he stomps the snow from his boots.
“Feels like heaven,” I mutter, peeling off my gloves.
Grant’s already waiting in the double suite upstairs, the one we’d booked earlier.
