Chapter 5 Ella
Five
Ella
I exhale slowly and open Jack’s closet, which is just as tidy as the rest of the room.
It smells like cedar and fresh laundry inside, and I take a deep breath, the scent calming.
Comforting. I trail the tips of my fingers over flannel shirts and worn jeans before settling on a faded Vancouver Canucks sweatshirt and a pair of old pajama pants.
I change quickly, the sweatshirt swallowing me whole and falling to mid-thigh.
The pajama pants have a drawstring, and I’m able to pull them tight enough that they stay up around the widest part of my hips.
I roll up the legs, hoping they’ll stay.
They’re soft and warm, and the sweatshirt smells like Jack.
I tuck my nose inside the collar and inhale.
My stomach explodes with butterflies and I sigh happily.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a crush like this in my life.
When I pad back downstairs, I find Jack by the bare tree in the living room, a few boxes at his feet. He looks up as I come in, his gaze all hot and melty as he takes me in.
The fact that I’m pretty sure Jack’s crushing on me too only makes everything more thrilling.
“Found something, I see.” His voice is warm and kind, and I do a little twirl, showing off my outfit.
“How do I look?” I ask in a deliberately dramatic voice.
“Perfect.” He says it with such utter sincerity that my heart flips in my chest. We stare at each other for a moment, neither of us saying anything.
But then he gestures to the boxes. “I was thinking, since we won’t be going anywhere today in this snow, that maybe you’d be into helping me decorate the tree? ”
A wave of warmth washes over me at the thought of helping Jack decorate his Christmas tree. It’s such a cozy, cute activity, and I can let myself imagine that we’re actually a couple as we do it, instead of two strangers thrown together by fate.
“I’d love to,” I say, grinning at him. Jack hands me a box filled with ornaments, and we start to decorate the tree.
The lights are already on, casting a warm glow over the cozy living room.
There’s also a fire crackling in the fireplace, adding to the coziness.
I take out a glittery red ball and hang it on one of the higher branches, standing on my tiptoes to reach.
“So,” says Jack as he hangs what looks like a hand carved wooden snowflake on the tree. “What do you do back in Edmonton?” He shoots me a grin. “Besides go to fancy Christmas parties, I mean.”
I laugh softly, more warmth spreading through me. “Well, I just graduated from U of A this past spring, and I haven’t really figured anything out yet.”
Jack sorts through his box of ornaments carefully.
I peer over his shoulder, curious as to what story they’ll tell about him.
For example, my family pays an interior decorator to do our tree every year, and it’s always gorgeous.
Cold and completely impersonal, but lovely.
Which basically sums up…well, everything to do with them, honestly.
Some of Jack’s ornaments are store bought and shiny, while others appear more rustic.
Homemade, or at least not made in a factory.
Unable to help myself, I reach into his box and pull out one that’s caught my eye—a small wooden fire truck, painted red and adorned with a tiny wreath on its front grill.
It’s a bit worn and it makes me wonder how many years it’s been hanging on his tree.
“My parents gave me that my first Christmas as a firefighter. I’d wanted to be one since I was a little kid, and they were so proud of me. Still are, I hope,” he adds with a wink.
“Do they live around here?”
He nods. “In Canmore, about twenty minutes away. My sister and her husband and kids live there, too.”
“Oh, you’re an uncle?” For some reason, the idea warms me from the inside.
“I am. They have three kids, two boys and a girl.”
“But no kids for you?” The question pops out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
He shakes his head, sadness flickering in his eyes. “No. I always wanted them, but I guess I was a little too married to my job to find the right woman.”
Our eyes meet and his words hover between us, shimmering with a tentative kind of hope.
“I like this one,” I say, touching the small fire truck ornament. “And the story behind it.”
He grins and passes me a delicate glass angel. “Careful with that one. It was my grandmother’s.” I nod and very gently hang it from a branch. “So, what did you study at university?” he asks, and I frown slightly.
“Business. My parents insisted. It wasn’t really my choice.”
Jack pauses, a thoughtful look on his gorgeous face. “What would your choice have been?”
“Art history.” I take another ornament out of the box and hang it.
“I love how the art reflects the time period in which it was created, and how it tells a story, not just of what’s happening in the painting, but in the world at the time.
Art has always been a reflection of culture, society and politics.
Even the current pop culture is a reflection of society.
” I roll my lips inward, realizing I’m rambling.
But Jack’s looking at me with a rapt expression on his face, hanging on my every word.
I shrug. “That, and I like painting. It’s my favourite hobby. ”
“If money was no object, is that what you’d do as a career? Paint?”
My tongue ties itself into knots. Money is no object, but that doesn’t mean I have the freedom to do as I please. Gilded cage and all that. My chest goes tight as the scene from the party replays itself, and I stare at the tree, my vision going out of focus.
“Ella? Are you okay? Where did you go?” asks Jack, laying a huge hand on my shoulder. His touch brings me back to the present, and I blink a couple of times before looking up at him.
“I’m okay,” I say, and in this moment, here with him, it’s the truth.
His hand lingers on my shoulder, his gaze searching mine, but after a moment, he nods and clears his throat, and we go back to decorating the tree.
He tells me stories about the different ornaments as we hang them, and with each tidbit of information he reveals about himself, I get hungrier for more.
I want to know everything about him. I could listen to him talk for hours.
He’s warm and engaging and funny and kind.
He’s whatever the opposite of toxic masculinity is.
He’s confident and steady and a little self-deprecating.
“What does your family do for Christmas?” he asks, and it’s an innocent question, but I don’t want to talk about my family.
I don’t want them here in this magical snow globe where it’s just me and Jack.
I hesitate just a little too long, and turns to face me.
“What happened yesterday, sweetheart?” he asks softly.
I force myself to take a breath and shake my head.
“I learned that I’m well and truly on my own,“ I say after a moment. “And that if I want a future on my own terms, I’ll have to make my own way, without my family. They’re…
they have a lot of money, and they like to use that money as a means of control. ”
The fire crackles and the wind blows the snow around outside. My mouth feels pasty just saying these things out loud.
“You’re not on your own, Ella,” Jack says, slipping his fingers under my chin and tilting my face up to his. “You’ve got me.”
I bite my lip before it can start to wobble, emotions clogging in my throat.
“And no amount of money is worth your freedom. It sounds to me like they never deserved you in the first place.”
It’s like he’s knocked all the air out of my lungs, and my eyes start to sting with unshed tears. Without a word, Jack slips his massive arms around me, holding me gently against his chest. He’s so big and warm, and his heart pounds against my cheek in a soothing, steady rhythm.
Jack feels more like home than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.
After several moments, he pulls away and shoots me a smile. “Wanna put the angel on top of the tree?” he offers, and I know he’s trying to distract me from the turmoil of emotions inside me.
I nod, my heart still going a little haywire from his hug. “Sure.”
Jack hands me the delicate white and gold angel, and then lifts me up, his arm going under my ass to boost me high enough to reach the top of the tree.
The way he lifts me like I’m nothing but a feather has a riot of butterflies flapping madly in my stomach.
My feet dangle above the ground, my stomach pressed to his broad, hard chest, and all of my focus is on the feeling of his hands on me.
The band of his forearm underneath my ass, his other hand on my hip…
oh god, I’m wet. He’s so hot. So big and strong and sweet and I could very, very easily fall in love with Jack Carter.
I might already be halfway there.
I reach up and place the angel on top of the tree, going slowly because I don’t want this moment to end.
Jack is so warm against me, and he smells so good.
His hands on me are like a revelation. An awakening.
Like I’ve been starving my whole life, and suddenly I know exactly what it is I want to eat.
He starts to gently lower me back down, my body sliding against his in a way that makes my nipples perk up and an ache settle low in my core.
He pauses when our faces are level, our breaths mingling, our gazes locked.
Time stops. It’s just the two of us, standing in front of a sparkling Christmas tree, music playing softly, snow shutting out the rest of the world.
My fingers curl into his shoulders, and I make a tiny sound at how hard they are. I tilt my face up, my lips parting slightly, silently begging him to kiss me. My heart pounds crazily against my chest. My stomach is a mess of butterflies.
Jack’s eyes flick down to my mouth, just for a second.
Then, he brushes his nose against mine in a gesture so tender it makes my chest hurt a little.
It feels like both a promise and a tease of what could be.
He brushes his nose against mine again and then starts to angle his mouth towards mine.
Every nerve ending in my body tingles in anticipation.
Jack’s phone blares from the coffee table, shattering the moment.
“Fuck,” Jack breathes, and then sets me down gently on wobbly legs. “It’s my work ring tone. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I nod shakily. “Of course. Yeah.”
He shoots me an apologetic smile as he strides to the coffee table and picks up his phone.
“Chief here,” he says, his voice so deep and authoritative that if he told me to strip and drop to my knees right here, right now, I’d do it, no questions asked.
His expression shifts, lines appearing on his forehead and around his eyes as he frowns.
“Where?” He listens to the tinny voice on the other end for a moment.
“How many vehicles? Right. Okay. I’m on my way.
Be there in…” He peers out the window. “Ten.”
He shoves his phone into his pocket and heads for the door. I trail after him like a little puppy, panic surging through me, not at the thought of being alone, but at the idea of Jack having to go out in this storm.
He shrugs on his coat. “There’s been an accident. Three vehicles skidded off the road and into the rocks.”
I glance anxiously out the window, twisting my fingers together in front of me. “But the storm—“
“I’ll be fine,” he says, crossing the distance between us in a few long strides. His palm is warm when he cups my cheek, and I press shamelessly into his touch. “I know what I’m doing, I promise. I’ve been doing this for a long time. I can handle myself.”
I bite my lip, my stomach twisting itself into a knot. Jack leans down and a presses a soft kiss to my forehead that settles me almost instantly. The feeling of his lips on my skin is both soothing and exhilarating. It’s gentle, reassuring, and far too brief for my liking.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and there’s Netflix on the TV.” I nod as he pulls away, grabbing his keys. When he opens the front door, a gust of cold air sweeps in, flakes swirling in the entryway.
“Jack,” I call out as he steps through the door. He turns back. “Be careful. Please.”
His smile is soft and warm, like he’s touched that I care. “Always am, sweetheart.”
And with that, he shuts the door behind him. I wrap my arms around myself, standing in the warmth of Jack’s quiet house, replaying how he almost kissed me. I’m sure of it.
Just like I’m sure that the only thing I want for Christmas this year is Jack Carter.