Chapter 12
Cole
Frankie storms out onto the porch, her boots crunching in the snow, and I follow, nerves coiled tight in my chest. Her shoulders are stiff, and the cold air cuts through the silence like a knife.
She looks pissed.
Rightfully so, I figure—Ryan must have said something.
“Frankie—” I start to say as I move in front of her to keep from walking off the porch and into the woods, but her expression changes so fast it knocks the words right out of me.
The anger melts into a bright, almost giddy smile.
I blink. “Wait, what—?”
“Is he watching?” she whispers, tilting her head back just over her shoulder toward the cabin.
I glance up and through the window and, sure enough, Ryan’s standing near the curtain, pretending not to be watching but failing miserably.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “He’s watching.”
“Good,” she says under her breath. “Then listen carefully.”
She steps closer, her voice low but fierce. “Your charming cousin just offered me a hundred thousand dollars to leave you. Told me you’re using me to keep your inheritance.”
My blood goes ice cold. “He what?”
She nods, calm as can be. “Said you tricked me into marrying you. That you’re using me to keep the land.”
“Son of a—” I start forward, ready to march back inside and shove Ryan’s pretty boy face into the nearest snowbank, but she presses her palm against my chest, stopping me.
“No,” she hisses. “Not yet.”
I look down at her hand on my chest, then up at her face. “You seriously think I’m just gonna let him say that to you?”
She grins—a wild, mischievous spark lighting her eyes, like the star at the top of a Christmas tree. “Oh, I’m not letting him win. I’m pretending to be angry because it’s the perfect setup. If Ryan thinks we’re fighting, he’ll believe he’s succeeded. We let him think he’s won, and he’ll back off.”
I blink at her, trying to catch up. “So what—you’re faking being mad at me?”
“Exactly.”
I rub my hand over my jaw. “You’re sure about this?”
She nods. “All we have to do is convince him that I’m breaking up with you. He’ll think he got what he wanted. We wait out the week until December 31st passes, and you get to keep the cabin and the mountain.”
The thought of giving it all up to get to keep her flashes in my mind.
I stare at her, the logic clicking into place even as an ache twists in my chest.
“It’s a good plan,” I admit slowly. “Lull him into a false sense of security.”
“But?” she asks.
“But—” I swallow hard. “Does that mean you’ll actually leave?”
She hesitates just long enough for the silence to sting.
“I’ll have to,” she says softly. “It’s the only way to sell it. Besides, this was always going to end. It’s just ending a little sooner than we planned.”
Her words hit harder than I expect. For a moment, all I can hear is the faint whistle of the wind through the trees.
I nod, forcing my voice steady. “Right. Of course. Just sooner than planned.”
She gives me a small, sad smile. And I wonder if she might be feeling a fraction of what I’m feeling. I can’t be falling so hard for this beautiful woman standing in front of me and she doesn’t feel the same way. The universe can’t be that cruel, especially on Christmas.
“Okay,” I say finally, the word tasting like ash. “Let’s do it.”
Her expression hardens again—back to anger for show—and before I can say anything else, she spins on her heel and storms back inside, slamming the door behind her.
I follow a few minutes later, just in time to see her moving through the cabin, gathering up her things. The room feels emptier already.
Ryan lounges near the table, smug as ever, while Marnie sips coffee and watches like she’s waiting for the next act in her favorite soap opera.
Frankie zips her bag and straightens, doing everything she can not to look at me.
“Ryan,” she says, voice sharp but steady. “Can I get a ride back to town? My car’s still there.”
He grins. “Be my pleasure.”
She glances at me, and for a split second—just before she looks away—I see the flicker of something real. Sadness. Regret. Maybe even the same ache sitting in my chest.
It doesn’t take long for Ryan to gather their stuff and help Marnie to her feet. Ryan opens the door for her, smug to the point of glowing. “Merry Christmas, cousin,” he says, that damn smirk plastered across his face.
“Merry Christmas,” I mutter back, my jaw tight enough to crack.
The door shuts behind them.
The cabin feels colder immediately.
And all I can think is that I just agreed to let the only person who ever made this place feel like home walk right out the door.