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“From Gracie,” she said. “It’s a trophy.”

“It’s the best trophy I’ve ever received.”

“I told her you’d say that.”

They walked back to the truck with snow in their hair and down their collars, the trophy tucked under Cole’s arm.

Emily looked at him.

This man.

This man, who had climbed through her bakery window just over a week ago in a blizzard and turned her whole life sideways. This man, who had once made her so furious she could barely be in the same room with him. This man, who was currently walking down a street in Maple Falls carrying a snowball on a stick like it was something precious.

Nine days.

That was all it had taken.

Nine days to go from hating him, properly hating him, to feeling this sharp, terrifying thing every time he looked at her. Every time he smiled. Every time he proved, without even trying, that he was good and steady and exactly the type of person she had spent years telling herself not to need.

Her chest tightened.

Because hating Cole had been easy. Safe, even. It had given her somewhere to put all the old hurt, all the resentment, all the reasons she didn’t trust people who left.

But this?

This was terrifying.

Because if she loved him, if she let herself really love him, then she had to face the question that had been circling in the back of her mind since the moment he’d arrived.

What happened if he left?

THIRTY-SIX

COLE

Monday, December 21st

The Kettle was warm and loud and exactly what Cole needed after the day they’d had.

Jackson had texted around six—drinks, Kettle, bring Emily—and Cole had shown the message to Emily over the remains of the pizza box they’d picked up on their way back to his place. She’d said yes before he’d finished reading it, which he was choosing to take as a good sign about the general direction of things.

The table they’d claimed was the big round one in the back corner, the one that required pulling two tables together and rearranging half the bar seating. Cassidy had led that effort without even asking if it was okay. Now Liam was beside her, their shoulders touching the way they always touched now. Jackson had his arm around Zoe. Tyler and Robyn were across from them, Emma safely delivered to Tyler’s parents for the evening. Zach and Madison were at the end, Madison’s red hair bright under the bar’s Christmas lights. Zach was in a remarkedly good mood, which he was attributing to Madison. He’d even managed a head nod in Cole’s direction, which Cole mirrored back.

“I’m just saying,” Cassidy started, “that if we’re going to have a game night at the inn, someone needs to be in charge of the playlist. Last year Liam put on a Spotify generated one and it played Mariah Carey seven times.”

“It’s a good song,” Liam said.

“Seven times, Liam.”

“Still a good song.”

Emily was laughing beside Cole, her knee against his under the table, the completely unguarded laugh he’d first heard on a schoolyard playground this afternoon. He’d been thinking about it ever since.

Cole let his hand settle on her upper thigh beneath the table, his palm warm through the fabric of her jeans. He gave her leg a slow, playful squeeze.

Her laughter faltered for half a second.

Emily turned her head, her eyes finding his. There was a question in them, but no surprise. Only amusement—and something warmer that had his pulse kicking hard beneath his collar.