Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 48518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Her voice softens, a tremor running through it. “But Holly’s not loving too fast. She’s loving exactly right.”
Something deep inside me cracks. Breaks. I look at Lucy—really look at her—and I realize something terrifying:
Holly isn’t the only one falling.
I take a step toward her. “Lucy.”
She takes one back. “Ash. I’m not—this isn’t—”
My voice drops. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m trying not to.” She presses a hand to her chest. “But this is complicated.”
“It doesn't feel complicated.”
“It should.”
“Should,” I repeat. “But doesn’t.”
She shakes her head. “You’re Holly’s guardian. You need stability, not—”
“You,” I cut in.
Her lips part.
“You’re what’s unstable?” I challenge. “You’re what’s dangerous? You’re what’s messy?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Exactly.”
“No,” I growl. “You’re wrong.”
Her breath stutters.
“You walked into my life,” I say, stepping closer, “and everything got worse. Louder. Messier. I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe.”
Her eyes flicker. “Ash—”
“But then…” I swallow. Hard. “Everything got better too.”
She stops breathing.
“The cabin got less quiet,” I murmur. “The days got easier. Holly laughed more. I laughed more.”
“You don’t laugh,” she tries, voice shaky.
“I do with you.”
Silence crashes down around us.
She whispers, “Ash… I can’t be a replacement for her mother.”
I nod once. “I know.”
“I can’t be a temporary comfort.”
“You’re not.”
“I can’t—”
She breaks off, struggling. I step closer, so close the air heats between us.
“You heard her,” I say softly. “She wants you.”
“I know.”
“Not as a replacement.” My voice dips, low and certain. “As an addition.”
She flinches like that lands too deep.
“Ash… what if your sister comes home and—”
“She will.” I nod. “Eventually.”
“And then what?”
Shit. She’s asking the question I’ve been running from.
“And then…” I choke. “I don’t know.”
Her fingertips drift to her bottom lip—a nervous gesture that pulls my eyes like a magnet.
“Ash… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I know,” I murmur.
“I didn’t want to get attached.”
“Too late.”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”
“Lucy.”
She blinks up at me, eyes still glassy. I step close enough that our breath mingles. Close enough that if she leaned forward an inch—just one—we’d be touching.
“Whatever this is,” I say quietly, “you’re not doing it alone. I’m in it too.”
Her breathing stutters. “That scares me.”
“Me too.”
We stand there, trapped in the charged silence that keeps getting harder to walk away from.
I lift a hand, hesitating before I touch her. Not because I don’t want to. Because I want to too much. But gently—so gently—I run my thumb along her cheekbone, brushing away a tear she didn’t notice falling. She exhales like that breaks her.
“Ash…” she whispers, voice trembling.
I lean in, forehead almost touching hers, her scent filling my head, her body soft and tense and right there.
“Lucy,” I breathe.
Everything in me pulls toward her. Every instinct. Every ache. Every goddamn craving I’ve been swallowing for weeks. She doesn’t move away. She closes her eyes. Inhales. And for a moment—one suspended moment—we’re both leaning in. Not kissing. But close. Way too close.
Then Holly’s voice carries down the hallway again:
“Uncle Ash! Teddy says he’s hungry and I don’t know what bears eat!”
Lucy jumps back. I step away so fast I nearly smack into the counter.
We stare at each other.
Both breathing like idiots.
Both shaken.
Both wrecked.
“I—” She swallows. “I should go.”
I nod, unable to find my voice as she turns to the door. Her hand grips the knob, then pauses. She looks over her shoulder. “Ash?”
“Yeah.”
She hesitates. Soft. Vulnerable. “Tell Holly I loved her picture.”
I nod again. She steps outside into the cold. I watch her walk across the snow, scarf blowing in the wind, boots crunching softly. Every step she takes feels wrong.
Too far. Too away.
When the door closes, Holly runs out, dragging her bear. “Uncle Ash! Are books food? Teddy wants to know.”
But I barely hear her. Because the echo of her secret—I want Miss Lucy to be my family—is still ringing in the walls.
And worse: I want it too. Not someday. Not maybe. Not hypothetically. Now.
The realization hits like a freight train.
I am falling for Lucy Snow. Fast. Hard. Dangerously. And for the first time in years—I’m not sure I want to stop.
Chapter Twelve
Lucy
The firehouse garage always smells like cedar and cold metal and something distinctly Ash—dangerous, solid, masculine. Which is deeply unfortunate for someone trying to maintain composure. Like me.
I’m perched on a metal folding chair, tangled in a spool of tinsel garland while attempting to prep decorations for the Fire & Frost Festival. Holly is nearby drawing signs. The crew is in and out. Someone’s burning popcorn. Again. And Ash…
Ash is watching me. Not openly. Not obviously. But I feel him. Every time he moves. Every time he breathes. He’s fixing a plywood reindeer with a power drill, forearms flexing, jaw locked in that perpetual concentration that makes my stomach flip. He keeps glancing at me between screws—those dark eyes flicking over like he’s checking for sparks. Or making sure I’m still here.
I pretend I don’t notice. No one is fooled. Especially not me.