Page 102 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

The young guy jogged back to the truck.

Matt looked at me. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Believe it or not, this is my first time dealing with this.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

Elijah returned and gave me the bolt cutters. I worked methodically to free the trapped man, using the bolt cutters to carefully cut through the stuck zipper without damaging the inflatable structure. The man tumbled out with obvious relief, brushing fake snow off his shirt and thanking me profusely while his children continued to document the entire rescue on their phones.

“You okay?” I asked him as he caught his breath.

“Fine, fine,” he panted. “Just felt a little… tight in there. Like being trapped in a fishbowl.”

The metaphor resonated with me. Being trapped in a fishbowl. Or a snow globe, where everything looked pretty and peaceful from the outside, but inside you were just going in circles while someone else controlled the environment.

Was that what my life was? A pretty little snow globe that looked charming from the outside but would eventually feel suffocating to someone like Joy?

“You good?” Matt asked.

I blinked. “Yep.”

“Sure? You look a little green.”

“I’m fine. Let’s roll.”

Lynn’s poisonous words churned in my mind. Would Joy really stay in Calton Hill long term? And if she did, would she ever be truly happy here, or would she eventually feel stifled by the pace and the limitations of small-town life? Would she grow to resent me for keeping her here, for not being ambitious enough or successful enough to give her the life she deserved somewhere else?

That was what happened with Lynn. She said as much. I was the bad guy holding her back. Why did I keep finding myself attracted to women who wanted more than I could offer?

Was I the problem? Did I give women false hope? Did they think they would somehow convince me to leave home? Was I wrong because I didn’t want to leave? Was I holding myself back because I was a chickenshit that didn’t want to stretch my wings and fly?

Was I afraid to take a leap?

The questions followed me through the rest of my shift, through equipment checks and paperwork and the mundane tasks that usually provided a welcome distraction from personal problems. But today, nothing seemed to quiet the doubts.

Lynn had planted the seeds, and my insecurities did the rest.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to date again. Maybe jumping into things with Joy had been a mistake. Was it a rebound relationship disguised as something real? She was the first woman I dated since Lynn. I supposed that technically made her the rebound. But wasn’t there some kind of rule about time? How much time needed to pass between getting dumped and starting with someone new before it wasn’t considered a rebound?

Maybe I needed more time to heal from Lynn’s betrayal before I could trust my judgment about love again.

The thought of stepping back from Joy made my chest ache, but what if it was the right thing to do? What if I was being selfish, trying to hold on to something beautiful without considering whether it was fair to her?

By the time I finished my shift, I had made a decision. I would take things at Joy’s pace, follow her lead. If she wanted space, I’d give it to her. If she wanted to slow down whatever was building between us, I wouldn’t push. And if she ultimately decided that Calton Hill wasn’t where she wanted to build her future, I wouldn’t try to convince her otherwise.

The resolution should have made me feel better. Instead, it felt like giving up before the fight had even really begun.

I drove to the town square that afternoon, ostensibly to check on the final preparations for the Christmas market opening that evening. The vendors were setting up their booths, stringing lights, and arranging merchandise with the kind of excited energy that came with a new venture. The ice tree I’d created stood proudly in its corner, catching the afternoon light and casting rainbow patterns across the snow.

There was a little melting, but not much. It would hold if the weather report was accurate.

Everything looked perfect. Magical, even. Exactly the kind of winter wonderland that would bring families together and create lasting memories.

I should have felt proud of what we’d accomplished. Should have been looking forward to seeing Joy’s vision come to life in all its holiday glory.

Instead, I felt like I was looking at everything through glass, separate and disconnected from the joy and anticipation around me.

That was when I saw her.