Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Eli woke to silence.
Not the peaceful, pre-dawn kind, but the heavy, ominous kind that meant the weather had done something dramatic.
He shuffled out of the guest room, squinting. The house felt muffled, as though someone had stuffed cotton in its walls. Aileen was already in the kitchen, her phone in hand, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the cozy room.
“It looks like a bad blizzard out there,” he muttered as he helped himself to a mug.
She didn’t even look up.
“It’s bad, all right, but it’s worse than a blizzard.” She turned her phone so he could see the morning alert.
A NEAR-WHITEOUT STORM ADVISORY
ROADS CLOSED IN THREE DIRECTIONS
USE CAUTION, TRAVEL NOT RECOMMENDED
“That means zero visibility. The only saving grace is it’s not windy.”
Eli blinked. “Oh.” He’d known about the approaching storm, but he hadn’t expected its arrival would have such a drastic impact.
That’s what you get for spending all those years in the big city. They wiped out all your memories of past weather disasters.
Yeah, he’d well and truly handed in his small-town boy card.
“That also means everything’s delayed.” Aileen sighed. “Deliveries, meetings, Santa-related shenanigans… By the way, Noah texted. All town square work is now canceled.”
He tried not to react to that last part. “So we just hunker down?”
“We hunker,” she agreed. Then she paused. “Noah also said he’s stuck at the workshop. The power’s still on but the roads are iced over. He’s heard the snowplows going by.”
Eli stilled. “Is he okay? Does he have enough supplies to last as long as the whiteout does?”
“He’s fine.” She studied him. “You could check on him. If you wanted.”
“I—” Eli’s voice caught. “He’ll be busy.”
“He’ll also be alone,” she said gently.
That last sentence managed to pierce Eli someplace deep.
He glanced toward the window. Mapleford was blanketed, erased, a white void where streets and sidewalks should be.
The workshop’s only a few blocks away. That’s walkable, if I’m careful. I managed it last night, didn’t I?
“Could I walk it in this weather?”
Aileen sipped her coffee. “That wasn’t me telling you to go, okay? I’m just saying, you haven’t stopped thinking about him since last night.” She stilled. “Am I right?”
He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Aileen had nailed it, as usual.
She smiled. “Then you’ll get there.”
Fifteen minutes later, he was layered in three sweaters, a scarf, a beanie, and gloves that were hopefully waterproof. He was also convinced what he was doing wasn’t stupid but noble.
Aileen pointed a wooden spoon at him. “If you break a bone, you’ll be stirring batter with one arm for the rest of the season.”
“Understood.”
“And if he kisses you, you’d better tell me everything.”
“Aileen—”
“Everything,” she repeated.
Eli fired an intense gaze at her. “Are you sure about that? Because we both know I can be very in-your-face about my experiences, don’t we?”
He escaped before she could come back at him.
As soon as he stepped out into the elements, the storm slapped him in the face.
Snow clung to his lashes, and the cold cut through every layer he had.
Mapleford was unrecognizable, its cars transformed into sculpted heaps.
He trudged carefully through the drifts, his head ducked, his boots crunching.
The few people he passed were bundled so thoroughly they resembled walking sleeping bags.
By the time he reached Carter Custom Builds, his scarf was half-frozen.
Warm golden light shone through the workshop windows. He knocked on the glass with stiff fingers.
The door opened faster than he expected.
Noah’s hair was mussed, his cheeks flushed from the heater, and his oversized hoodie and joggers, and mismatched socks blended to create a cozy picture.
For a second, he blinked in obvious surprise. “Eli?”
Eli shoved his cold hands into his pockets. “You’re snowed in.”
Noah laughed. “We’re all snowed in. Get inside before you solidify.”
Eli stepped into warmth, heat seeping instantly into his bones. The workshop was lit and humming, the radio playing low, the heater rattling softly, the half-finished market stall propped against a wall as if it was waiting for an audience.
“You walked here?” Noah closed the door behind Eli, locking out the storm.
“It’s only two blocks. I did it last night.
“Yeah, but that wasn’t in a whiteout.”
Eli shrugged. “I’ve done stupider things.”
Noah’s expression softened. “Why?”
Eli wasn’t prepared to answer that question.
He swallowed. “I thought you might want company.”
Noah’s mouth parted a fraction, and although Eli had expected surprise or even amusement, what he saw was gratitude and a hint of disbelief.
“Yeah,” Noah said quietly. “Yeah, I do.”
They settled near the heater. Noah handed him a mug of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, and Eli cupped it greedily.
Noah smiled. “That’ll thaw you out. Are you good?”
“Define ‘good.’”
“You still have a nose?”
“Barely.”
“Then you’re fine.”
Eli huffed a laugh.
They talked about the storm for a few minutes, the conversation normal, a discussion of harmless things. But the air between them wasn’t harmless. It buzzed, as if the room was waiting for something.
Eli let his gaze wander. The workshop was cluttered, warm, lived-in. A blanket was draped over an old plaid couch in the corner, worn through in places. A few framed sketches hung on the wall, mostly rough furniture drafts mixed with watercolor landscapes.
Eli pointed to the latter. “Did you paint those?”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Strictly hobby stuff, though.”
“They’re good.”
“You’re biased.”
Eli blinked. “You don’t know my standards.”
Noah shot him a look. “Oh, I know enough.”
It was the same sentence he’d uttered the previous night, only that had been in a different context. This time it landed like a punch to the chest.
Eli cleared his throat. “This is cozy.”
Could I sound any more lame?
“This is accidental hostage-taking by weather,” Noah corrected. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
The honesty in his voice made Eli look up.
Are you?
Noah wasn’t sure when the cold stopped mattering.
Maybe it was the moment Eli stepped out of the storm, shaking snow from his head and stood there, his cheeks flushed, looking like trouble Noah very much wanted to have turn up on his doorstep.
Oh God.
He’d hoped Eli would come. He’d also told himself he wasn’t hoping. But the second he saw him in the doorway, shivering, stubborn, and beautiful as hell, something in Noah’s chest loosened so suddenly it almost hurt.
You walked here?
He’d heard the edge of panic in his own voice. Because nobody had walked across town for him, not in a storm.
Not ever.
And certainly not someone who made his pulse misbehave the way Eli did.
I thought you might want company. Eli’s words hit Noah deep, in a place he kept carefully closed. Company wasn’t something he asked for. Company was something people offered out of obligation or pity.
But Eli had looked at him as though he meant it. As though he saw something in Noah worth crossing two blocks of whiteout snow for.
That both terrified and warmed him in equal measure.
A war raged within him, and it would have been easy to listen to the strongest inner voice, the one that said Don’t get ahead of yourself, don’t read too much into this.
Don’t ruin it.
But the other voice—the quieter one he never listened to—rose too:
Ask him. Let yourself hope. Just this once.
He couldn’t help it. He had to know.
He shifted closer, noting Eli’s damp hair, the chilled pink of his nose, the tiny tremor in his fingers. Noah lowered his voice, unable to rein in the note of vulnerability that laced it.
“Why’d you come?”
He wanted the truth, not the polite version, and certainly not the safe version.
The truth would tell him whether he was imagining everything. Whether the warmth in Eli’s eyes was real.
Whether Noah was standing on the edge of something he’d been afraid to want again.
Without meaning to, he held his breath, waiting, hoping…
Bracing.
Noah was watching him. Really watching him.
“Why’d you come?” Noah asked again, his voice softer now. “And tell me the truth this time.”
Eli’s breath caught. His mind tangled itself into a knot of epic proportions, with too many strands.
Because I wanted to see you.
Because I can’t stop thinking about last night.
Because I used to draw you, and I don’t know how to tell you that without sounding unhinged.
Because being around you feels like remembering something I didn’t know I’d forgotten.
What came out surprised the hell out of him. “You looked tired last night.”
Noah blinked. “Tired?”
“Yeah,” Eli said. “When you talked about your ex. When you said you pretend during the holidays.”
Noah’s lips parted in surprise, and before he could speak, Eli pressed ahead.
“I just… I didn’t want you to be alone today.”
Noah didn’t respond, and for a second, Eli wondered if he’d said too much.
Then Noah moved slowly, as though he was approaching something fragile. He shifted beside Eli, their knees brushing.
“You’re not what I expected.”
Eli swallowed. “What does that mean?”
“You’re quiet. Sarcastic. Thoughtful. You’re anxious about ladders. Weirdly good with lights. And I…” He trailed off, his breathing uneven. “I like being around you.”
Eli’s heart clenched. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Noah whispered. “A lot.”
The silence expanded, thick and humming, and Eli’s pulse throbbed.
“I don’t usually—” Noah’s voice cracked. “I mean, there’s been one or two, but… I haven’t really—since my ex—” He stopped.
Eli finished for him. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah. And I don’t want to screw this up.”
Eli exhaled, his breath shuddering out of him. “You’re not screwing anything up.”
“I don’t know what this is,” Noah admitted, “but I want to know. And I want to go slow but also, I kind of want to—”
He stopped again.
Eli leaned a little closer. “Want to what?”
Noah’s eyes locked on his. “Kiss you,” he whispered.