“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. You asked me to leave it alone, and I didn’t.”
“It’s your house too now,” I whisper. “I want you to feel comfortable here.”
“I do,” she tells me.
And the tender smile pulling at her lips tells me she’s being honest.
My eyes hold there for just a second, and so does the farm.
A familiar heat snaps between us, a spark of longing in her gaze. The tether that always tugs us closer grows shorter, tension thrumming in the crisp air, our unspoken wishes curling between breaths as the days go by.
It almost feels like the trees are leaning in, whispering for me to take the plunge and kiss her.
Finally.
Phoebe barrels into us and breaks the spell.
“Hot chocolate break?” she asks. “I’m cold.”
“Sure, bug. Let’s go.”
Chloe swings her gaze to me, eyes shining with a bittersweet blend of disappointment and joy, the corners of her mouth turning up even as her brow furrows at the interruption.
Oddly enough, I can recognize it easily, but I know it’s because I feel it, too.
I nod, even though my hands don’t want to let go yet.
This is good. I need the reminder that this isn’t just about money. Losing the farm means losing the only real home Chloe and Phoebe have ever let themselves trust.
And even though it’s barely been twenty-four hours, they’re my priority.
I need that solid in my head before we get married tomorrow.
As we head back toward the house, I glance behind us. The snow has already started to settle.
I wish I could get everything between Chloe and me to settle, too.
twenty-two
AIDEN
The house is already makingsmall adjustments to Chloe and Phoebe. They’re not overly noticeable, and maybe I’m more in tune with them because it’s been so quiet for so long.
But there’s already a shift that feels more lived in, and less “occupied”.
Old logs tick as they cool. The heat hums low and steady. Outside, the snow reflects moonlight back through the trees, turning the windows into mirrors. Somehow, it all feels less…cold.
Phoebe is asleep within minutes of hitting the pillow, because snow days are apparently exhausting. Owen played hide and seek with her in the trees, and Evie googled how to make snow-themed slime. I didn’t question how she miraculously had all the ingredients hidden away.
I’m halfway to the stairs when I notice light spilling from the living room.
Chloe is on her knees by the bookshelf, tongue tucked between her lips in concentration.
There’s a small red-and-green figure in her hands, with a white tutu on.
I stop short.
“…Is that an elf?”
