“Oliver!” a voice boomed from somewhere behind us.
I turned to see a broad-shouldered man with a thick grey beard and rosy cheeks weaving his way through the people. His heavy boots thudded against the floor, I didn’t recognise him and he didn’t seem to even notice. Thankfully, behind him was the same man who’d rescued me from the roadside disaster that had stranded me here in the first place.
“Evenin’, lad!” he said, clapping a hand to my shoulder with enough force to rock me forward. “I was hopin’ to catch ye here!”
Brianna blinked up at him, startled but smiling.
“Everything all right?” I asked, already bracing for something unexpected.
“Aye, aye, no trouble at all,” he said cheerfully. “Just been tryin’ to get ahold of ye. Rang the hotel twice today! Must’ve missed me calls.”
My stomach tightened. “I — didn’t hear.”
He nodded, still beaming. “We finished workin’ on that rental of yours. Good as new! Ready whenever ye need it, once the roads open properly. Should be in the next day or so if the weather behaves.”
Beside me, Brianna’s posture shifted, the slightest stiffening. Not obvious, but enough that I felt it. Enough that my chest tightened.
“Thank you,” I said, forcing a polite smile. “I appreciate the update; I will be round tomorrow to pay you.”
“Course, course!” He gave Brianna a friendly nod. “And you’ve got him lookin’ sharp tonight, lass.”
Brianna flushed. “I… didn’t do anything.”
“No need to be modest,” he chuckled. “You two make a good pair.” With that, he vanished back into the crowd, humming along to the music.
And just like that, the warmth of the moment dimmed. Not gone, a small shadow seemed to cast over it, because the reminder hit like a cold gust. My car was ready, the weather would eventually clear, flights would resume. And Pine Hollow, this snow-glittered world, these quiet moments, this impossible closeness with her, would fade into something I’d look back on instead of living inside.
I exhaled, steadying myself.
Brianna was still beside me, still holding my arm lightly, but her gaze had dropped to the floorboards, her expression unreadable. The awareness hung between us.
“You’ll be leaving soon then,” she said softly.
“I don’t know exactly when,” I replied honestly. “But yes. When the flights resume.”
She nodded once. A small, polite movement, but the emotion beneath it was anything but small.
Before I could speak again, before I could reassure her of something I wasn’t even sure I should promise, a burst of laughter carried across the hall, and Mrs. McAvoy of the knitting club materialised out of thin air, grabbing Brianna’s free hand with unencumbered delight.
“There ye are! Haven’t we the loveliest pair in the room tonight?” she declared before Brianna could respond. “Come meet the Callaghans’ new wee baby–she’s wearin’ a Christmas bow!”
Brianna blinked, startled. “Oh — I?—”
Mrs. McAvoy did not wait. She pulled Brianna toward the other end of the hall with the chaotic determination of someone who had absolutely no respect for personal boundaries. Brianna shot me a helpless little look over her shoulder. I couldn’t help the smile that slipped across my face.
“Go on,” I said. “I’ll be right here.”
She let herself be dragged away, the shimmer of her dress catching the lights as she disappeared into the crowd of laughing townsfolk and warm embraces. But the empty space she left beside me felt immediate. And cold.
My car was fixed. The flights would resume. Life would continue.
But as I watched her laugh with her townsfolk, cheeks glowing, shoulders unstiffened, her entire presence softened in a way I hadn’t seen before, one thing settled in my chest with quiet certainty: Leaving Pine Hollow wasn’t going to be simple. And leavinghermight not be possible at all.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Callaghans drifted into another conversation, and I used the moment to breathe, smoothing the front of my dress as I stepped back into the warm pulse of the ballroom. The air was thick with cinnamon, pine, and the soft, sweet scent of mulled wine. Hundreds of tiny white lights curled around the rafters like strands of starlight. Candles glowed from every table, flickering beside tartan ribbons and bowls of sugared cranberries.
It should have felt magical. It did feel magical. But magic had a habit of vanishing the moment reality tapped you on the shoulder.
