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I can tell Caitlin and James are getting impatient by the way they’re bouncing on the balls of their feet, so I turn to them. “What’s the rule about being at the farm when there’s other people around?”

“We can run around as much as we want, as long as we always have a family member in sight,” Caitlin says.

“Exactly. Who do you need to make sure that you can see?”

She holds up her fingers and counts them off. “Mama, Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle Landon, Aunt Piper, or Killian.”

“That’s right. And what do you do if you can’t see any of us or you get lost?”

“We go back to the farmhouse and wait for you there,” James says.

I’ve trained them well.

“Make sure you stay in sight, and we’ll get hot chocolate before we leave.”

They shout, “I love you!” before they run off into the field and are immediately lost in the throng of people. I don’t usually get nervous when they’re running around the farm, but there are a lot of people here.

Landon’s Lucky Wonderland is not only popular in Clover Pines. People come from a bunch of the surrounding towns to get a Christmas tree or for a family night out.

Caitlin and James are used to the farm, but they’re still small and they’re not necessarily used to being around this many people. I recognize most of those here, though, and I know everyone in Clover Pines will look out for them. The perks of a small town.

“Are we expecting them to get lost?” Killian asks, eyeing the kids running in the distance warily.

“Better safe than sorry. Caitlin wouldn’t let anything happen to James.”

“Now, that, I believe,” Killian says.

Snow crunches beneath our feet as we follow the kids. My toes are unsurprisingly frozen, but I’m wearing three pairs of socks so it’s not as bad as it usually is.

“Why canola?” Killian asks, and I blink at him.

“What?”

“The farm. Why canola of all things?”

“Oh, I don’t know, to be honest. My great-grandfather and his best friend bought neighboring farms way back in the day and just passed them down. The other farm belonged to Piper’s family, but her dad got sick when we were teenagers. My parents bought his farm so that he could keep living in the farmhouse, and they helped take care of him and Piper.”

“What about her mom?” Killian asks, and just the mention of Piper’s mom makes me mad.

“She left when her dad got sick. Piper’s older brother plays hockey in Montreal, and he was starting to do pretty well around that time, so she left to be with him and filed for divorce. Piper stayed.” Not that her mom ever offered to take her. Piper’s relationship with her family has always been complicated, and I blamed her distrust of Dom on that for a long time before having to admit to myself that he was just a shit dad.

“Her dad died just before we left for college,” I continue. “She bought the house across the street with her inheritance so she could be close to me and the kids, and Landon lives in their old farmhouse now. As for ‘why canola?’, I bet my dad would love to talk about it. Just don’t ask when we’re in a rush.” God knows, the man loves to ramble.

“Noted,” Killian says with a laugh. “Is it weird for Piper that Landon lives in her childhood home?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think she has any hard feelings for the house, but she’s never really been a small-town person, and living on a farm is her idea of hell.” All she ever wanted was to get away from Clover Pines, and I know she came back here for me, even if she’d never admit it.

From the outside, Piper sometimes comes across a little brash and flaky, like she doesn’t take anything quite as seriously as she should. But we’ve been best friends since birth, and she’s always looked out for me. Since the day I came along, it’s been me, Piper, and Landon—and, occasionally, Piper’s brother, Cole, back before they stopped seeing eye to eye.

From when Landon brought home chickenpox from school, when he was eight, and Piper snuck into our room so she could catch it too and we wouldn’t be separated, to her holding my hair back before we knew that my food poisoning was actually morning sickness, she’s always been there for me. So it wasn’t a surprise when she told me she was transferring to Calgary to be closer to me and the kids. And as guilty as I feel that she gave up her dream of getting the hell out for me, I feel even more lucky to have her here.

We stop by the food truck, and I watch a look of pure bliss pass over Killian’s face as he sips his peppermint white hot chocolate. I order a hot apple cider and grip it like my life depends on it, because my hands are cold even with my gloves on.

As if by some unspoken agreement, we head back toward the entrance and lean against the fence, looking around until our eyes land on the kids. They’re holding hands, trailing after Landon, who is helping Caitlin’s teacher and her wife pick out a tree.

“Is Landon single?” Killian asks, and the change of subject catches me off guard so much that it takes me a second to process.

“Um … he is. Are you interested?” I ask, and I hate how much I hope he says no. I have no right to feel as jealous as I do.