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“They loved your hot cocoa mix,” I tell him as we put our costumes in the Mistletoe Community room closet. “Though I don’t understand why you don’t want Mistletoe to list you as a sponsor.”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Maybe you just need to meet a nice girl,” I tell him as I zip up my coat. “Settle down, have a family. You play so hard.”

He smirks. “Is that what you plan on doing with Truman?”

I swallow, averting my gaze.

Todd laughs. “That’s what I thought. You talk a big talk, but then I saw the way you got all flustered with that new guy in town today —”

“He’s not new in town. He’s from Mistletoe.”

“Oh yeah?” Todd and I step out into the frosty air. “So the two of you have a past?”

Snowflakes fall and the Christmas lines that criss-cross Main Street are lit. The town looks like a magical wonderland.

“It’s complicated,” I tell him. “He was my foster brother … and … well … we just have history.”

Todd smiles, and I know he is holding something back.

“Just say it,” I groan.

“Look, I’ve known you a few months, Holly. And in that time I’ve never once seen you blush in the presence of Truman. But you walked back to the queue of kids today all hot and bothered. You like that guy. Admit it.”

I pull on my mittens, wanting to tell Todd he’s a liar. But he isn’t and he knows it.

“Look,” Todd says, softening his stance. “You’re a sweetheart. But even girls deserve to make Santa’s naughty list every once in a while.”

I scoff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Todd lifts his brows, pulling down his black beanie. “It means sometimes you have to follow your heart. And your heart isn’t always sugar. Sometimes it’s spice.”

I laugh. “You are arrogant. The newest bachelor in town giving out relationship advice. It’s pretty bold.”

“Call it what you want, Holly. I just think if you really loved Truman you’d be a Christmas bride. What are you waiting for?”

“I’m waiting for…” I bite my bottom lip. Truman is ready for marriage. He’s proposed. Twice.

I tell him I’m not ready. That we should date longer first. That we just moved to a new town.

But they’re all excuses.

“Hey,” Todd says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time because a girl like you should get her Christmas wish.”

I blink back my emotions, surprised that I’m getting all vulnerable with a guy like Todd. Truth is, he’s hit he nail on the head, said the thing my friends are too timid to put words too.

What exactly am I doing with Truman Prestley?

“I’ll see you at the dance,” I tell Todd.

“Sorry if I got a little preachy.”

I smile easily. “Hey, I grew up as the preacher’s daughter, I can handle it.”

We part ways and I head through town toward my father’s — I mean my house. On the way there I pass the cemetery and I pause when I see Hunter kneeling in the snow.

I watch him, wondering if he’s still the Hunter I fell hard for all those years go. The man has doubled in size — his shoulders so broad, his stature so demanding—but part of me can feel our connection just like always. His dark grey eyes so brooding and mysterious. Storm clouds that never seem to break.

I step toward him in the graveyard, not wanting to interrupt, but also, unable to help myself.

It’s Hunter. My Hunter.

He doesn’t have any social media, has zero footprints on the Internet. He vanished without a trace.

Now he’s back.

Kneeling before his mother’s grave and my heart aches, thinking of my own father who is also buried here.

Both of us orphans.

My foot snaps a twig and he looks up, surprised, but then he sees it’s me and the surprise is gone. It’s like he was expecting me. He stands, dusting the snow from his dark denim jeans.

“You brought her roses,” I say, eying the bouquet he has placed at her headstone. “Her favorite.”

“You remembered.”

“I remember everything,” I tell him. “It’s you who forgot. Forgot me.” I know there is bitterness to my words but I can’t not say them, speak the truth.

“I had to go. I was trying to do right by you. By your father.”

“What does my father have to do with any of this?” I ask.

Hunter frowns. “He has to do with everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“He died, things changed. You had to leave for college and so I had to go too. I was trying to protect you.”

“How? By leaving me alone in my grief, for disappearing when I needed you the most?”

“Your father wanted me gone. I figured the least I could do was grant him his dying wish.”

“My dad wasn’t right about everything.”

“He was right about me though. I wasn’t good enough for you.”

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