Chapter 3
Charles
The long drive out of Citrine Bay toward Fairland is all the reminder I need that I can still feel anxious. Hell, even my palms are sweating as I stroll up to Ellie’s apartment complex in a rental SUV.
The navigation assures me that I’ve reached my destination, but I’m struggling to believe I’m really here.
She steps out of her house, and it’s like someone has slammed a filter over my eyes. Today is full of monotonous grays and washed-out blues—the dull sky, the slushy street, the bleak, skeletal trees. It’s all a monochrome haze. And then there’s her. Ellie.
She glows, a radiant warmth against the cold, a splash of vital, humming color in a place that’s been drained of it. My heart isn’t beating; it’s trying to break through my ribs.
I forgot how this felt. The nervousness of just being near her. Seems I haven’t outgrown old habits.
She drags a suitcase behind her, the wheels catching on the pavement. A reminder that she’s not some mirage. She’s real, and for Christmas, she’ll be mine.
I shove my door open. The freezing air bites my cheeks, a welcoming pain. But then I step out, and our eyes lock across the frost-dusted hood. The last bit of air in my lungs evaporates.
She smiles.
It’s a small, private curve of her lips, but it hits me with the force of a fist to my chest. The world tilts, the muted background recedes into nothing, and I have to grip the door to keep from falling over.
“Look at you.” Her voice is the only sound that matters, a warm melody cutting through the winter’s silence. She glides over the icy sidewalk, a vision of impossible grace, and stops just before me. Her eyes, bright and alive, search mine. “You’re really here.”
The astonishment in her tone is a blade twisted in my gut. Does she have any idea what she does to me? “Were you expecting someone else to appear?”
I reach for her luggage, my fingers brushing against hers as I pluck the handle from her grip. A tingle, sharp and sweet, arcs up my arm. Her cheeks flush a perfect, rosy pink, and a selfish, desperate part of me wishes it wasn’t just from the cold.
“You never know with technology nowadays,” she murmurs, watching me as I load her suitcase next to mine. She rocks back on her boots, the little fuzzballs dancing. “Are we really going to drive all the way there? Isn’t it all the way on the other side of the state?”
Absolutely. Sure, I could have us there in an hour by air, but why cut it so short when I could have her at my side for five hours instead? The greedy, starved side of me can’t bear to lose a single second of her proximity.
“We can take breaks. Plenty of sights to see.” Did I have Francine spend two hours plotting the most scenic, impressive route possible instead of focusing on her normal tasks? Without a doubt. “I hope that’s alright.”
Her nod is immediate, a little too quick. “Perfect, actually. I’m scared of heights, anyway.”
A real, unguarded smile tugs at my lips. When it’s just the two of us, I don’t have to hold back, do I? There’s no one to perform for, no one to witness my vulnerabilities. Just us.
Drifting to the other side of the vehicle, I hold the passenger door for her, and she slides in with a soft “thank you.” The word is aimed at the space between us, hesitant. Rounding the hood, I’m still buzzing from her gentleness.
Can I tell her how pretty she looks today, or is it too soon? How comical, a man in my shoes worrying about such trivial things.
The engine purrs to life, and I cue up a playlist of soft Christmas tunes, the volume low, just a backdrop to the symphony of her presence. For a few minutes, there’s only the hum of the heater and the swish of the tires on damp asphalt. The silence is thick, nervous. It’s been a long time.
We can’t just slide back into conversation like old friends, can we? While I’ve kept up on her life through my phone, I can’t blame her if she doesn’t give a damn about my corporal world enough to ask a question or two to strike up a conversation.
“The, uh… the flowers you sent were beautiful, Charles. Thank you.” Her voice is quiet, cutting through my thoughts.
“Orchids,” I say, my eyes on the road but my entire being focused on her. “You’ve always loved them.”
I see her shift in my periphery. That flush is back, painting her neck and cheeks. “You remembered.”
I remember everything when it comes to her.
I let the silence sit for a moment before reaching for another chance to hear her voice. “What’s Owen doing for the holiday?”
She relaxes slightly, talking about her brother. “He’s got his three little tornadoes to spoil. He’ll be drowning in shredded wrapping paper and enjoying a small get-together. That’s how it usually goes, anyway.”
And this year, she’s not going to be joining them in the chaos. No matching sweaters, no present opening videos.
It feels like I’m stealing more than I deserve by having her at my side, breaking up traditions. At the same time, this’ll be the first time I won’t be clinging to my phone, waiting for updates.
Maybe this year… I’ll appear in her feed.
“Well,” I say, my own voice gruffer than I intend. “Thank you. For doing this. For coming with me.”
She waves a dismissive hand, hoping to reassure me. “It’s no problem. Really. I, um… I packed a dress for the event. It’s not… It’s not really fancy, though. Just something I had.”
My mind immediately conjures a dozen possibilities. Is it that deep blue one that makes her eyes look like twilight? A simple black sheath that hugs the gentle curve of her waist? It doesn’t matter. Whatever she’s picked, I know, with a certainty that roots deep in my soul, that it will be perfect.
She could wear a burlap sack and still be the most stunning woman in the room.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I tell her, and it’s the understatement of the century. I clear my throat, the next offer tumbling out. “If you want, while we’re there, I’ll buy you one. A new one. In return for this.”
In truth, I’ll buy her whatever she wants. Even if she wants to burn a hole in my wallet, I want to spoil her. Would she let me?
“I haven’t left Fairland in forever.” Sinking into the seat, I feel her eyes on me. “You don’t have to worry about going out of your way. This is like a mini-vacation for me. Plenty of payment as is.”
The stirring in my chest stretches, enjoying her unselfishness. It’s so… her. She’s being given a diamond, and she’s marveling at the box it came in.
Before I can formulate a response, the first flakes appear. A few lazy, wandering specks of white against the gray. Then a few more. Ellie makes a soft, captivated sound, turning fully to look out the window. A soft sound escapes her as she takes in the view. “Oh!”
I risk a longer glance her way. The last of her nervous tension seems to melt away, her posture softening as she watches the snow begin to dance. Her eyes, usually so bright and perceptive, go hazy with wonder.
We leave the weathered sign for Fairland behind us, the landscape opening into frosted fields and skeletal trees dressed in white.
As the miles pass, the initial awkwardness dissolves, replaced by a tentative, easy flow of words.
She asks about me. And once she starts, it’s like a dam has been opened.
I guess she is curious about me.
“So,” she continues, her voice tentative. “What have you been doing? I mean, really doing? All I ever hear are… rumors. Big business deals. Your name in headlines.”
I give her the polished, public version at first. The one that feels like wearing a suit two sizes too small. But her eyes are on me, seeing through the veneer, and the truth, the raw and ugly parts I never say aloud, begins to claw its way out.
Sitting at the top of a tech corp isn’t anything exciting. The lack of a life I live surrounding it isn’t any more interesting. So, I’m not surprised when the conversation starts to fall flat.
“Why did you never come back, Charles?” she asks next, her voice so quiet it’s almost lost under the soft Christmas music. “Not even once.”
The question hangs in the air, a topic I’ve been avoiding. I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles bleaching white.
“They kept me on a short leash, Ellie,” I finally say, the words tasting like an excuse.
“My family. Once it was decided I was taking over, every move was calculated. Every friendship was vetted. Every… attachment,” I say, the word loaded, “was deemed a distraction or a liability. Once I finally stepped into the role and acted the part given to me, it consumed everything. There was no time to breathe, let alone…”
See her again.
“Even now,” I add with a bitter chuckle, gesturing vaguely at the road ahead, “on a holiday, I have to go and make an appearance at some stuffy gala. Can’t just have a quiet Christmas.”
She nods like she wants to be able to understand, but her frown is undeniable. Leaving her behind has left some sore spots.
The snow begins to fall in earnest now, thick, heavy flakes that stick to the windshield, the world outside softening into a blur of white.
Ellie hugs herself, her earlier wonder shifting into a flicker of concern as she takes in the snow. “Are you sure we’re going to make it? It’s really coming down.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice steady, sure. “I’m not worried about it.”.
All because I wouldn’t mind the drive taking longer. Deep down, I wouldn’t mind missing the gala entirely. Staying away means avoiding the start of rumors or the world seeing the gorgeous woman at my side. Throw in having a plausible excuse, and I’m happy to let fate give me some relief.
As the view grows thick, so does the air in the car.
Our nerves are back, but for a new reason.
The cheerful Christmas tunes now feel like a stark contrast to the silent, white fury outside.
The world has shrunk to the ten feet of road my high beams can claw back from the blanket of snow in front of us.
“In five hundred feet,” the navigation chimes, its voice unnervingly calm, “you will arrive at Hope Peak.”
Hope Peak. One of the scenic stops Francine had meticulously plotted.
I see the sign through the veil of snow—a rustic, wooden archway welcoming visitors to a place that currently feels anything but hopeful. While I’m tracing the print, I don’t notice our straight path changes shape in time.
The road begins a gentle upward curve, and for a split second, the tires lose their purchase on the hidden ice beneath the fresh powder as I try not to hit the brakes hard. My efforts are useless.
The back end of the vehicle swings out with a graceful, terrifying laziness. The world turns into a slow-motion carousel of white and gray.
The steering wheel goes dead and loose in my hands. My stomach lurches. Time stretches, slows to a horrifying crawl.
Then comes the sound—Ellie’s sharp, terrified gasp, a knife that cleaves straight through my heart.
The tires lose their grip completely. We are no longer driving. We are falling, sliding, a weightless, helpless dance into the blinding white.