Chapter 10
Kane
The snow crunches beneath my bare fingers as I clear the windshield. My hands sting with cold. Gloves would’ve been smart.
I think of the gingerbread monstrosity, hoping to keep my mind off of the sting of my flesh. When we finally finished, Frank’s face lit up like he was eight years old again, staring at presents under a tree.
“It’s magnificent,” he’d declared, practically bouncing on his toes. “Absolutely magnificent. Maggie’s Diner doesn’t stand a chance.”
I’d caught Ella’s eye then, saw her trying not to laugh at his competitive streak. She’d checked her watch, flour dusting her sleeve.
“We should probably head back to the lodge to clean up before the tree lighting,” she’d suggested. “Nora needs dinner, and we all look like flour bombs have attacked us.”
The kid had giggled at that, her face streaked white like war paint.
Now I finish clearing the windshield and glance up to find Kori watching me from the passenger seat. Something in her expression makes my chest tighten.
“What?” I ask as I open the driver’s door.
“Nothing,” she says, but her smile tells me it’s definitely something.
Behind us, I hear Lana say, “I can’t believe we spent an entire day building a gingerbread village. If you had told me a month ago this is what I’d be doing on a Saturday in November, I would have laughed in your face.”
“Life takes unexpected turns,” Kori replies, still looking at me.
I start the engine, cranking up the heat as soon as it rumbles to life. The temperature’s dropped since we entered the bakery this morning—typical mountain weather, turning on a dime from merely cold to bone-chilling.
“You’re all covered in flour,” Kori observes, brushing white powder from my shoulder. “It’s even in your eyebrows.”
“Occupational hazard of gingerbread construction,” I reply, pulling away from the curb as Kat, Wren, and Lana pile into the back seat. “I’ve probably inhaled enough sugar and spice to be considered a dessert myself.”
Kori laughs, the sound warming me more than the struggling heater. “You’d be a grumpy dessert. Probably something with a lot of dark chocolate and sea salt.”
“I’d eat that,” Kat chimes in from the back. “Sounds sexy.”
“Everything sounds sexy to you,” Wren counters. “Even gingerbread.”
“Did you see those candy canes I arranged? Tell me that wasn’t suggestive.”
I tune out their bickering, my mind already at the lodge, calculating how long I have to shower and change before the town’s tree lighting ceremony.
It’s not my scene at all—crowds, forced cheer, children hopped up on hot chocolate—but Nora’s excitement was impossible to resist. The way her eyes lit up when Ella mentioned the tradition of the whole town gathering to sing carols and flip the switch on the massive tree in the square.
.. I couldn’t be the asshole who said no.
The road back to Wolfcreek winds through dense forest, the trees heavy with fresh snow.
It’s beautiful in a stark, imposing way that reminds me of why I agreed to stay here in the first place.
Something about these mountains speaks to me, calls to something primal I didn’t know existed in my city-hardened soul.
“You’re quiet,” Kori observes, her voice low enough that the others can’t hear over their ongoing dessert debate.
I glance at her, then back at the road. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“How weird this all is,” I admit, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
“A month ago, I was drowning my sorrows in a bottle, convinced I was better off alone. Now I’m driving back from building a gingerbread village with family I didn’t know I had, about to attend a small-town Christmas tree lighting. ”
“Having regrets?” she asks, and there’s a note in her voice I can’t quite read.
“No,” I say quickly, surprising myself with how true it is. “It’s just... a lot to process.”
She reaches over, her hand finding mine on the gearshift. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re handling it remarkably well.”
“That’s because you didn’t know me before,” I reply, but I turn my hand to lace my fingers with hers. “I was a disaster.”
“We’re all disasters in our own special ways,” she says with a smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “Some of us just hide it better than others.”
We fall into comfortable silence as I navigate the increasingly snowy roads. The others have quieted too, Lana staring out the window while Kat and Wren scroll through photos on a phone, occasionally laughing at particularly flour-covered shots.
My mind drifts to Jake Brennan’s unexpected appearance at the bakery.
There was something off about him—beyond the general unfriendliness and suspicious glares.
The way he watched Ella and Nora, a mixture of longing and pain in his eyes when he thought no one was looking.
And the tension between him and Lana was thick enough to cut with a knife.
I make a mental note to ask Ella about him again. If he’s going to be in our orbit, I want to know exactly what his deal is.
The lodge comes into view, warm lights glowing from its windows against the gathering darkness.
Someone—probably Kat—left the outdoor Christmas lights on, transforming the imposing structure into something from a holiday greeting card.
Despite my general aversion to seasonal cheer, I have to admit it looks pretty spectacular.
“Home sweet home,” Kat sighs as I pull up to the entrance. “I call first shower!”
“You always call first shower,” Wren complains, gathering her things. “And you take forever.”
“Beauty requires dedication,” Kat retorts, already halfway out the door.
“You have forty-five minutes,” I call after her. “Tree lighting’s at seven.”
Kori gives my hand a final squeeze before releasing it to gather her coat and bag. “Coming?”
“In a minute,” I reply, suddenly needing a moment alone. “I want to check something on the engine. It was making a weird noise earlier.”
She gives me a look that says she knows I’m lying, but nods anyway. “Don’t be long. It’s getting colder.”
Once they’ve all disappeared into the lodge, I sit in the silent car, watching my breath cloud in the rapidly cooling air. The reality of my new life settles around me like the snow blanketing the mountains—beautiful, overwhelming, and transformative in ways I’m still trying to understand.
I pull out my phone and scroll to a number I haven’t called in months. Before I can overthink it, I hit dial.
“MacGallan Estate, how may I direct your call?” The familiar voice of Mrs. Peterson, Declan’s new housekeeper, answers on the third ring.
“It’s Kane,” I say, my voice rough. “Is Declan around?”
“Mr. Kane! How lovely to hear from you. Mr. Declan is in his office. Shall I transfer you?”
“Please.”
There’s a click, then Declan’s voice comes through, sounding distracted. “Kane? Everything alright at the ranch?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I assure him, suddenly feeling foolish for calling. “Just... checking in. How’s Toronto?”
There’s a pause, and I can almost see him leaning back in his leather chair, eyebrows raised at my uncharacteristic social call.
“Cold. Gray. Full of corporate bullshit,” he replies finally. “I miss the mountains already. How was the gingerbread adventure?”
I find myself smiling despite my intention to remain stoic. “Surprisingly not terrible. Frank—the bakery owner—is convinced we’ve created a masterpiece that will crush the competition.”
“Sounds intense,” Declan chuckles. “Kat sent photos. You all look like you got into a fight with a flour mill.”
“That’s about how it felt,” I admit. “We’re headed to some tree lighting ceremony in town tonight.”
“You? At a community Christmas event? Now I know the world’s ending.”
“Funny,” I deadpan, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “Nora wanted us all to go. Hard to say no to the kid.”
“She’s got you wrapped around her finger already,” Declan observes, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Good. You needed someone to soften that crusty exterior.”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “When are you guys coming back?”
“Miss me that much, brother?” he teases, but then his tone turns serious. “Soon. Maybe a week. This situation with the estate is taking longer to sort out than I expected, but Connor’s been a huge help.”
“Good,” I say, surprised by how much I mean it. “The place isn’t the same without your nagging.”
“I prefer to call it ‘executive leadership,’” he retorts. “Hey, listen, I should go. I’ve got a conference call in five. But Kane?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you called. It’s... It’s good to hear your voice.”
The sincerity catches me off guard. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” I mutter, but there’s no bite to it.
“Too late,” he chirps. “Give everyone my love. And Kane? Try to enjoy the tree lighting. It won’t kill you to embrace a little Christmas spirit.”
“No promises,” I reply, but I’m smiling as I hang up.