My hand throbbed slightly where she’d bandaged it, a reminder of her touch—gentle and careful in ways I didn’t think possible anymore.
I clenched my fist, feeling the tension coil back into place like an old habit.
No, going to that tree lighting ceremony would be a mistake.Better to stay here in this room where it was safe—where I couldn’t hurt anyone or be hurt in return.
It was easier this way.
Or so I tried to convince myself as I stared at the blank walls around me.
I needed to get my mind off Claire.The room felt too small, the walls too close.I stood up and pushed the desk aside, clearing a space in the middle of the floor.Bodyweight workouts had always been my go-to when I needed to focus, to regain control.
I started with push-ups.The burn in my arms and chest was immediate, but I welcomed it.The familiar strain of muscles working brought me back to a place where things made sense.Down and up, my breath steady and controlled.
After fifty push-ups, I moved on to squats.My legs felt solid beneath me as I lowered myself down and pushed back up.Each movement was precise, disciplined.I could feel the tension easing from my mind with each repetition.
Fitness had saved my life more times than I could count.In the SAS, staying in peak condition wasn't just about looking good—it was survival.A strong body meant a strong mind, and both were necessary in the field.Even though I'd left that life behind, the routine still brought me a level of comfort.
Next were planks.I held my body rigid, my core tight as I focused on keeping everything aligned.Sweat trickled down my face, but I didn't wipe it away.This was about discipline, concentration.
Minutes passed as I cycled through different exercises—lunges, burpees, sit-ups—each one demanding focus and precision.My muscles burned, but it was a good burn.It reminded me that I was still alive, still capable.
As I worked through my routine, the room seemed to fade away.There were no festive decorations here, no reminders of a world that felt foreign to me.Just the rhythm of my movements and the sound of my breathing.
By the time I finished, my body was spent but my mind felt clearer.The tightness in my chest had eased, replaced by the familiar satisfaction of a good workout.This was something I could control—something that made sense.
I grabbed a towel from the small bathroom and wiped off the sweat, feeling more grounded than before.As I looked at myself in the mirror, my reflection seemed calmer, more composed.
For now, this would have to be enough.
Claire and her invitation could wait until later.
I stepped out of the bathroom and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I surveyed the room once more.The world outside might be chaotic and confusing, but in here—in this small space—I had found a measure of peace.
Chapter8
Claire
The tree-lighting ceremony arrived with a chill in the air that promised snow by evening.I stood in front of my closet, pondering the choices before me.It felt silly to worry about an outfit when I’d be bundled up in a snow jacket and boots, but tonight felt special.Maybe it was because Christian hadn't exactly said he would attend, adding an extra layer of curiosity to the event.
I pulled out a deep green sweater, its softness reminding me of pine needles.Holding it up against me in the mirror, I smiled.It brought out the color in my eyes and seemed festive enough without being over-the-top.But then again, who would see it under my jacket?
Next came a pair of jeans, comfortably worn in from countless nights spent by the inn’s fireplace.They hugged my legs just right, but they weren’t exactly warm.I tossed them aside and dug deeper into the closet, finding a pair of thick wool leggings.Perfect for staying cozy while still looking presentable if I decided to shed my outer layers once inside.
I glanced at the mirror again, adjusting my hair absentmindedly.It was silly to be so meticulous; after all, everyone else would be focused on the tree and the lights.Still, there was a part of me that hoped maybe Christian would change his mind and show up.
My fingers grazed over a simple silver cross necklace hanging by the mirror.It had been a gift from my mother years ago and always brought me comfort when I wore it.I clasped it around my neck, feeling its familiar weight settle against my skin.
Boots were next—sturdy enough to handle the snow yet stylish enough not to feel clunky.As I slipped them on, I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself for this level of preparation.It was just a small-town ceremony, nothing fancy or extravagant.
With one last look in the mirror, I pulled on my snow jacket—a bright red one that contrasted nicely with my green sweater—and wrapped a knitted scarf around my neck.I grabbed my gloves and hat from the dresser and headed downstairs.
The inn buzzed with quiet anticipation for the evening’s festivities.Guests milled about, sipping hot cocoa and chatting about holiday plans.The atmosphere was warm and inviting despite the cold creeping in from outside.
“Ready for tonight?”one of the regulars asked as I passed by.
“Absolutely,” I replied with a smile that reached my eyes.
The lobby had thinned out considerably.The guests had bundled up and headed to the town square for the tree-lighting ceremony.I leaned against the counter, my eyes drifting to the hallway more often than I’d like to admit.
