He gave me that big-brother look that was half concern and halfI’m not buying your crap.“You sure? You’ve been grouchy all morning.”
I didn’t answer.
Because the truth was, he wasn’t wrong.
But I wasn’t ready to talk about it, not yet. Not until I figured out how to stop replaying that kiss, that look, that quiet moment between laughter and heartbreak.
So I just set my mug down, wiped my hands on a towel, and said, “You handling the bar for the next hour?”
Callum’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Depends. Where are you going?”
“For a walk,” I said, reaching for my jacket. “Fresh air.”
He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Uh-huh. Fresh air.”
“Don’t start.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, already grinning.
“Liar.”
“Comes with fatherhood,” he shot back, chuckling as I stepped toward the door.
I looked back once, shaking my head. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks,” he said, eyes bright. “You’ll make a great uncle, Drew.”
I laughed under my breath. “Let’s hope I make it that far.”
And with that, I pushed open the door, the bells chiming overhead, and stepped out into the bright, cold chaos of Reckless River.
The sound of laughter hit me first. The festival was still alive, loud, and warm despite the snow. Somewhere down the street, I caught a flash of blonde hair through the crowd.
Melanie.
I exhaled, breath clouding in the winter air, and started walking anyway.
Because no matter how far apart our worlds were, Reckless River wasn’t that big.
And I had a feeling fate wasn’t done with us yet.
I swear, overnight, Reckless River had been infected by some kind of yuletide virus.
Everywhere I looked—families. Parents with strollers, toddlers bundled like sentient marshmallows, teenagers snapping selfies with reindeer cutouts. Even the damn dogs wore matching scarves.
I shoved my hands deeper into my jacket pockets and muttered, “Christmas plague.”
Maybe I was turning into Melanie. The cynicism, the dry one-liners, the general disbelief in the world’s collective cheer. I could practically hear her voice in my head:‘Don’t you dare blame me, Benedict. You were already halfway to grumpy old man before I showed up.’
Still, she wasn’t wrong. I’d always had a healthy dose of skepticism. Maybe that’s why she and I fit like flint and steel. Sparks, sure. But also the risk of burning the whole forest down.
Was she actually cynical, though? Or just tired of noise, school deadlines, and city crowds that never met your eyes? Exhausted had a different sound than bitter, and MelanieSausermight wear sarcasm like armor, but I’d seen the soft underlayer peeking through.
I took a long breath of the cold morning air, letting the scent of pine and roasted chestnuts clear my head. Across the street, the festival sprawled with tents and string lights as laughter rolled over the snowbanks. It was too early for beer and too late for peace.
I turned the corner toward Bean There, Done That cafe. The bell over the door jingled as I stepped inside, and warmth wrapped around me like a hug I didn’t know I needed.
The shop smelled exactly the same as it had for years—espresso, cinnamon, and Riley’s coconut lotion. Mismatched tables filled the space, a record spinning in the corner, and the kind of lighting that made everyone look a little more forgiving.
