Chapter Two
Miles
By the time I cross into town for the first time in over twenty years, snowflakes the size of dimes drift lazily from a pale gray sky, dusting rooftops and shop awnings like someone sifted powdered sugar across the whole damn town.
Sleighbell Springs is every bit as picture-perfect as I remember, maybe more.
The main drag through town, Mistletoe Street, is as quaint as ever with lampposts wrapped in fresh garland and red bows, windows glowing with warm light and cozy displays of antique sleds, ceramic Santas, and handmade quilts draped just so.
One shop has a giant nutcracker guarding the door; another has a display of gingerbread house-shaped candles in the window.
Christmas lights are strung across the street, crisscrossing between buildings the entire length of the main business district.
A pickup truck with a wreath zip-tied to the grille rumbles past, two bundled-up kids hanging out the windows, laughing and waving as they trundle past.
I ease my truck down the slush-trimmed street, crawling slowly just to take it all in. It’s like time held still here. Twenty-five years gone, and Sleighbell Springs barely blinked.
Well, except the coffee shop is now called The Brew House, and there are way more pride flags in the windows than there used to be.
That part makes my chest squeeze with something warm and aching.
Like maybe it’s safer here now. Softer. Maybe it was always that way, and I just didn’t know how to see it then.
Or maybe he helped make it that way.
Mason.
God. Mason Beckett.
That name still hits a chord in my chest.
I don’t let myself think about him often; it hurts too much.
But now that I’m back, I can feel the gravity of it, of him, like I’ve stepped into the same orbit again, and I’m just waiting to spin too close.
He was my first everything. First kiss. First heartbreak.
First love, even if we never said it out loud.
We were kids, hiding on borrowed time. Graduation came, and I ran like hell.
Promises were made, then broken, then left to gather dust in the rearview mirror.
I don’t even know if he’s still here, and if he is, would he even want to see me?
The thought lodges itself in my throat as I turn off the road and pull into the driveway of the Just One Bed B it’s lived in, like there were homemade cookies here sometime in the last twenty-four hours.
“You passing through?” Liam asks casually. “Or staying a bit?”
I hesitate, then shake my head. “Actually, I think I’m back for good. Grew up here. Haven’t been back in…well, a while.”
Liam’s brows lift. “No kidding? What brought you home?”
I shrug. “Time. Some things fell into place, others fell apart. Figured it was time to stop being a stranger.”
Before he can respond, the front door blasts open in a gust of snow and the crash of booted feet.
“Luuuucyyyyy, I’m home!” a deep voice bellows, leaning into the camp.
A bearded mountain of a man stomps in, carrying a stack of firewood under one arm, grinning like he just won a prizefight.
Flannel, snow-dusted boots, windburned cheeks.
Then he strides straight up to Liam and plants a kiss on him that’s just shy of indecent.
Liam rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, breathless when they break apart. “Mal, we have a guest,” Liam mumbles, cheeks pink.
Mal grins wider. “I see that.” He turns to me, tugging off his gloves and offering a hand. “Mal. I handle the horses, the broken stuff, and pretty much anything else the rest of them throw at me.”
“Miles,” I say, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“He’s a local,” Liam adds, smoothing his shirt, most likely out of habit more than necessity. “Back in town after a while away.”
Mal’s brows lift. “Well, well. A prodigal queer returns.”
“That obvious?” I say with a half-laugh.
Mal gives me a once-over that’s not lewd so much as practical. “You’ve got the vibe.”
I blink. “Uh… thanks?”
Mal grins. “Let me guess… you handy?” I can’t tell exactly what he means by that, but judging by the eyeroll and groan from Liam it’s safe to assume Mal is a shit-starter. I like him already. Not wanting to make it too easy on him, I go for the oblivious answer.
“Used to do construction. Bit of everything,” I say with a shrug.
Mal tilts his head, eyeing me. “Staying long?”
“Hopefully,” I say. “Just figuring it out.”
Mal rubs his hands together, cheeks still pink from the cold, and leans a hip against the desk. “So, what brings you back, Miles?”
I shrug, tugging off my gloves. “Midlife crisis?” I offer with a lopsided grin.
Liam snorts. “Aren’t you a little young for that?”
“Depends on how long you plan to live.” I glance between the two of them. “But yeah. Things kind of reset recently. Layoff. Lease ended. Family stuff wrapped up. Just felt like the right time to come home.”
Mal folds his arms, still watching me, not unkindly. “No family still here?”
I shake my head. “Mom moved to Florida last year. My sister’s in Boston. I was the only idiot who ever talked about coming back.”
Liam leans against the counter. “And now you did. That takes guts.”
“Or poor impulse control,” I say. “I’m still figuring out which.”
That gets a laugh from both of them.
Mal gestures toward the side room. “You want a coffee? Tea? Cocoa?”
“Coffee’d be great, actually.”
Liam disappears for a moment, and Mal waves me toward a cozy armchair near the fireplace. “So what’d you do before this? You said construction?”
I nod, settling in. “Yeah. Carpentry, finish work, light plumbing. Did some time in commercial renovation, but I always preferred the small stuff. Fixing things. Making something feel like it belongs.”
Mal lifts a brow. “You’re hired.”
I blink. “What?”
He laughs. “Kidding. Mostly. We’ve been trying to find someone reliable for months. Liam nearly electrocuted himself trying to install a new bathroom sconce.”
“I followed the YouTube tutorial,” Liam calls from the kitchen. “The man was very convincing!”
Mal grins, then turns back to me. “You planning to stay in town permanently?”
I hesitate, fingers curling around the warm ceramic of the mug Liam hands me. “That’s the idea,” I say, slower this time. “I’ve been gone a long time. Too long, maybe. But this place has a way of sticking with you. You know?”
Liam settles onto the arm of Mal’s chair, watching me with quiet interest. “Yeah. It really does.”
I stare into my coffee for a second, steam curling up like a memory I don’t want to name. “I think part of me always knew I’d come back. I just figured it would be under different circumstances. Better ones.”
Mal’s brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t push. He just sips his drink and waits.
“I used to think I needed to go chase big things,” I say, almost to myself. “Prove I could make it somewhere else. Kept telling myself I’d come back once I had something to show for it.”
“And?” Liam asks gently.
I exhale a short laugh. “Turns out life doesn’t always hand you trophies for effort. It just happens. One day, you look around and realize the stuff that really mattered slipped through your fingers while you were busy chasing the rest.”
There’s a beat of silence. Not awkward, just respectful. Like they’ve both been there, in one way or another.
“I had someone here once,” I add, eyes still fixed on the swirl of cream in my mug. “Someone I never quite stopped thinking about. It wasn’t dramatic or tragic. We were young. Stupid. I left. Thought I’d be back in a year. Then a year turned into five, ten, twenty…”
Liam’s voice is soft. “Unfinished business?”
I nod. “Something like that.”
Mal whistles low. “Damn.”
“It’s not even about expecting anything,” I add quickly. “I just need to know if the door’s still open. Or if I already walked past it for good.”
They both nod, quiet for a moment.
“Well,” Mal says, slapping his knee and standing, “for what it’s worth, this place eats unfinished business for breakfast. You’re not the first person to come back hoping to tie up loose ends.”
Liam smiles at me, kind and a little wistful. “And sometimes the endings turn out better than the stories we were writing in our heads.”
I huff a laugh. “Guess we’ll see.”