The world outside the frosted window glows bright and clean. Snow blankets everything in sight, glittering under the soft gray light of morning.
It’s the kind of scene you find in storybooks.
Peaceful, untouched, magical.
Except Ryder is gone.
I sit up, the sheet clutched to my chest, listening for any sign of him. Nothing but the crackle of fading heat and the hush of snow against glass.
A flicker of unease rolls through me.
After everything that happened last night—his touch, his words, the way he held me like he didn’t want to let go—I didn’t expect to wake up alone.
My stomach tightens, just a little.
I remind myself not to jump to conclusions, but the old fear creeps in anyway.
I slip out of bed and pull on my leggings and the oversized red sweater that now somehow smells like him.
I glance around. No boots. No coat.
He is not here.
Where the hell is he?
A creak outside makes me pause.
Then the door bursts open, cold air rushing in, and there he is.
Ryder.
Snow clings to his dark jacket. His hair is damp with melted flakes, ice clinging to the edges.
He kicks the door shut with one boot, then hoists something massive into the room.
A Christmas tree.
Arealone.
I stare at it, at him, at the ridiculous amount of snow on his shoulders.
He looks up, meeting my wide eyes. "Morning."
I blink. "You chopped down a tree?"
He shrugs like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just trek through a snowy forest to drag a pine tree back for the girl who practically invaded his space this Christmas.
"You love Christmas," he says simply. "Figured you deserved the real thing."
My heart flutters in my chest.
He leans the tree against the wall, shrugs out of his coat, and stomps his boots clean.
"You left without saying a word."
"Didn’t want to wake you. You looked... peaceful."
He walks over to me, snow melting on his shoulders, and cups my face with his chilled hands.
