Jodi
Jodi
The walk from Perfect Brews to his truck is short, but it feels endless.
We step into the cold and Reid shifts instinctively, placing himself between me and the wind without saying a word.
His hand rests lightly on my lower back, but he doesn’t crowd my space.
He angles his body to protect me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The gesture is so simple I almost miss it, but once I notice, I can’t stop thinking about it.
“Cold?” he asks.
“Not really.” My voice shakes, betraying me.
Snowflakes catch in his hair as he looks down at me, his expression softening all at once. Like he’s memorizing me. Like he’s about to do something irreversible.
“Jodi,” he says quietly.
I swallow, the faintest taste of chocolate lingering on my tongue. I can’t find the words to tell him how I feel. How I’ve never felt this way about any man. Never felt this intense pull to anyone. And yet, one look from him. One word from his lips is enough to make my body come alive.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the second I saw you standing on that road.”
My breath catches. I’m standing on a precipice, scared to fall, and yet also terrified that I’ll wake up and find that this has all been a dream.
“Why haven’t you?”
He huffs a laugh, low and rough.
“I didn’t want to scare you off. You deserve a guy who takes his time.”
“Reid,” I say, stepping closer until my boots touch the toes of his. “I don’t want another man. I want you.”
He searches my face like he’s double-checking. Triple-checking. His hands come up slowly, fingertips brushing my jaw, his palms cupping the sides of my neck gently.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.
I should slow this down. That’s the sensible thing to do.
But standing this close to Reid, with his hands warm and steady on my skin, I feel something shift inside me.
This isn’t just desire or the thrill of being wanted.
It’s heavier than that. Quieter. The kind of feeling that settles deep and doesn’t ask permission before it starts rearranging your life.
I know, with a sudden clarity that makes my chest ache, that once I give myself to him, I won’t want to walk away.
And that realization doesn’t stop me. It pulls me closer.
I shake my head.
“I won’t.”
He kisses me.
Not hard. Not fast. Certain.
Warm lips pressing into mine, claiming without demanding, coaxing without overwhelming. The world goes quiet except for the sound of our breathing and the soft fall of snow.
I slide my hands into his jacket, gripping fistfuls of his shirt like if I let go, he’ll vanish.
He deepens the kiss and my knees go soft like jelly.
His arms seize me by the waist not letting me melt into the snow under our boots. Not even the powdered snow could cool my skin. I’m too warm, despite the thin fabric of my sweater.
“Easy,” he growls.
I’m dizzy. Burning with need for the first time in my life.
His forehead rests against mine. Our breath mingling in a steamy fog between us. His hands don’t leave my waist. They burn through the polyester like a claim.
“That,” he murmurs, “was better than I imagined.”
I swallow hard.
“You imagined it?”
“Constantly.”
I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a smooth line, maybe a cocky grin, but Reid looks almost vulnerable. Like letting me see this part of him is the real risk.
“I want to see you again,” he says. “Tomorrow, after I fix your car.”
Hope flares hot in my chest.
“I want that too.”
Maybe that’s why the fear slips in, sharp and unwelcome. Wanting him feels dangerous.
I hold onto him as the snow keeps falling, lingering in this bubble where the cold doesn’t bother us and the uncertain future doesn’t exist.
By the time Reid drives us back to the inn, the snow has stopped but the buzz in my chest hasn’t.
He kisses my forehead, slow, lingering, and sweet in a way that melts my bones, waiting until I’m inside my room before heading to his. I don’t stop smiling as I flop face-first onto the bed and scream into the pillow.
Holy shit.
The kiss. The way he kissed me. Like he already knew how we’d fit together.
I’m still warm everywhere he touched. I’m still breathless. I’m still replaying every second like my mind doesn’t trust me to remember it properly.
I give myself five whole minutes to be deliriously happy.
And then I pull out my phone. Three messages from Amber and a missed call from my mom. Radio silence from my dad and brothers, per the usual. They won’t panic until there is a reason to panic.
I send Amber a text letting her know I’m back from my date and then I call my mom.
“Honey, are you safe?” she asks immediately.
Guilt hits me like a wave. She expected my call an hour ago, and I’ve made her worry for no reason.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “We made it to Hope Peak.”
“I told you,” I hear my dad in the background. His voice is faint but deep and it easily carries across rooms. “She’s a smart girl with shitty taste in cars. I bet it broke down, and she had to get it towed.”
Thankfully, this isn’t a video chat, or they would see me wincing as he hits the bullseye. I know what my mom’s next question will be and I see no reason why my dad should know he was right about my car.
“I met a man,” I confess.
She squeals before repeating them for my dad.
“Did he graduate with you? Where does he live?” she asks.
“He’s from Chicago, but he’s friends with Noel’s husband.”
“The boys love Nicholas! You know they’re working at the tree lot this year. He’s such a sweet man! They’re not married yet though. Noel is still a little gun shy after last year.”
Reasonable, considering the entire town watched her ex ditch her at the altar on Christmas Eve to marry another woman.
“Are you going to ask his name or just wait to see the wedding invitation?” my dad asks.
“What’s his name?” she asks, unbothered by his snark.
“Reid,” I reply before quickly adding, “He’s a little bit older.”
My mom must have me on speaker phone because my dad’s voice comes through loud and clear.
“How much older?”
“Kevin!” my mom shouts.
“How much older, Jodi?” he repeats.
“I don’t know his birthday. Thirty or so.”
The line goes silent. I don’t even hear my dad’s breathing.
“He must be a good guy if he’s friends with Nick,” he says finally. His tone is resigned and I wonder if he covered the phone speaker to discuss the age gap privately with my mom. “Is he coming home with you?”
The question isn’t as shocking as it should be. Love moves fast in my hometown and I’d be lying if the thought of taking Reid home to meet my family wasn’t something I’d already considered.
“We just met.”
“I married your mom a week after we met,” he reminds me. “Are you bringing him home?”
“He’s going to Crescent Ridge after the holidays to visit his friend,” I reply.
“Hm,” he hums. “We’ll see.”
My mother’s soft voice returns, and she asks a dozen more questions about Reid before she lets me go.
Interrogation over, and my car trouble still a secret from the biggest know-it-all I’ve ever met, I slump back onto my bed.
I barely have time to relax before someone bangs on my door. Amber breezes in wearing boots with fuzzy socks sticking out the top and a hoodie three sizes too big.
“Well?” she demands, plopping onto the bed. “Tell me everything. And don’t lie because you blink weird when you do and I’ll know.”
I tell her. Not everything. Definitely not the part where I thought my knees were going to give out, but enough for her eyes to widen.
She listens. She giggles in the right places. She smiles throughout.
“Okay,” she says finally, leaning back against the pillows. Her tone shifts from excited best friend to pragmatic realist. “Now we need to talk.”
My stomach dips.
“About what?”
“Jodi.” She fixes me with the look. The one she used when she warned me not to date that guy in sophomore year who turned out to be the creep who installed cameras in the women’s locker room. “Let’s be clear. You’re leaving soon.”
“I know.”
I swallow nervously. She’s a good friend and she wouldn’t discourage me if she didn’t have a good reason. I know that, but it feels like I’m waiting for her to slice my heart in half with a rusty blade.
“You’ve known this man for what? A few hours?”
“That’s—” I try to defend it, but she barrels on.
“You kissed him. Great. Wonderful. I love that for you.” She hesitates, softens a little. “You’re moving home. He’s drifting around the country. That’s not a foundation, babe. That’s a holiday fling.”
The word fling lodges in my chest and won’t move.
That’s what people call relationships that burn hot and fade fast. Holiday mistakes.
Snowbound romances. Stories you laugh about later because they didn’t mean enough to hurt.
But this already hurts. The idea of walking away from Reid feels like tearing something out of myself, and that terrifies me.
Reid doesn’t feel like a fling, but I’ve only known him for a day. Less even. He might go to Crescent Ridge to visit his friend and then leave the next day. He could disappear without me ever seeing him again.
I don’t even have his phone number.
“I’m not saying he’s a bad guy,” she adds quickly. “Maybe he’s great. Maybe he’s amazing. But you can’t build something real when both of you are leaving town.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated,” I say, but it sounds weak even to me.
Amber squeezes my hand.
“I just don’t want you to get your heart broken.”
Silence settles over the room. Heavy. I stare out the window at the soft white glow of streetlights bouncing off snow covered roofs.
She means well. She always does, but her warning plants the seed of fear that whispers at the back of my mind.
When she finally stands to leave, she hugs me tight.
“Be careful, okay?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I will.”
As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, the ache sinks deeper. Careful is the last thing I want to be with Reid.
I worked so hard to build a life that belongs to me.
My plans. My future. Falling for Reid this fast feels like standing on the edge of a cliff.
If I let myself believe this is real and it turns out to be a fling, I don’t just lose him.
I lose the version of myself who trusted her own judgment.
I don’t know how to survive that kind of mistake, so I do the only thing I can.
I pull away before it can break me.