Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Jess
I stare at the snowmobile, then glance at Clark.
“You want me to get on that thing?” I shiver just thinking about it.
“It’s the only way.”
He helps me climb on behind him, steadying me as I fumble with the helmet strap. My fingers are clumsy from cold and nerves, but his hands are steady. Always steady.
“Hold on tight,” he says, low enough that I feel it more than hear it.
I nod, wrapping my arms around his waist. The snowmobile lurches forward, and we plunge into the storm.
The roar of the engine drowns out everything. I’ve never been on anything like this. Part of me is exhilarated—the speed, the power, the thrill. Another part is terrified we’ll get stuck in the frozen piles of snow.
Ice pelts my cheeks, blurring my vision. I press my face into his parka, warming my front with his back.
He shouts something over his shoulder, but the wind swallows it.
Trust me.
And I do. I trust Clark more than anyone. But trust doesn’t stop fear from clawing at me as we round a bend and the snowmobile skids slightly. My stomach drops. For half a second, I swear we’ll tip.
Clark corrects fast, but my heart still hammers against my ribs.
“Clark!” I shout, tightening my grip.
“It’s okay!” he yells back, calm even in the chaos.
The path narrows. Snow mounds grow steeper. I can barely see, and I don’t know how Clark does. A small, terrified part of me wonders what will happen if we don’t make it. What if the snowmobile dies? What if the road disappears completely?
I almost tell him to turn back. Almost.
His hand drops from the handlebar just long enough to squeeze mine, quick and sure. A tiny, wordless promise.
And something in me believes him.
Finally, the road smooths under the snowmobile. Relief floods me. My jaw aches from clenching, and the tightness in my chest eases. Ahead, a faint clearing emerges. Cars line the road, and an SUV waits to the right.
My heart lurches for a different reason now. Almost there… and that means goodbye.
Clark eases the snowmobile to a stop. I’m numb, shivering. He swings off, then helps me down. Boots hit the snow with a soft thud. My knees wobble.
He folds me into his arms, keeping me upright.
For one dangerous second, I want to stay. I want to forget the opportunity waiting for me. I never want to leave his arms. It’s safe here.
“You’ll be home soon,” he murmurs against my cheek.
Snow clings to his lashes, a flush on his face. He looks like a Christmas movie dream.
“Thank you,” I whisper, stepping back before I change my mind.
His jaw tightens, like something unsaid.
A man exits the SUV and shakes Clark’s hand.
“Thanks, Pete,” Clark says.
“Heat’s on full blast,” Pete replies, giving me a once-over. “Roads are clear. Don’t speed.”
“Don’t worry,” I assure him.
Pete moves to the snowmobile, giving us a moment.
For a heartbeat, we don’t move. Then I rise on my toes, pressing a quick kiss to Clark’s lips—soft, fleeting, too little.
He catches my wrist before I pull back, deepening the kiss—slow, certain. When he finally releases me, my eyes sting with tears that aren’t from the cold.
I stumble toward the SUV, climb in, and pull away. Clark steps back, hands in pockets, watching.
I don’t realize I’m crying until warm, wet tears slide down my cheeks.
The city feels too bright, too loud after Starlight Bay. Like stepping back into a life that fits… but now one size too small.
By the time I reach the studio and pack up my collection, nerves prick at me. This is my chance—but doubt gnaws at the edges. What if they don’t like anything? What if I’m not good enough?
I take extra time on hair and makeup. My favorite dress and boots can’t magically erase insecurity.
Then, a ping. Clark.
Mr. Mistletoe: You got this!
A smile lights me from the inside. Of course he knew exactly what I needed.
On the way to the country club, I remind myself how far I’ve come. I never imagined dressing models for a runway show. Clark’s right: I’ve got this.
The storm is only a gentle drizzle now. The world looks washed clean, like a blank page.
The country club looms—imposing, elegant, intimidating. Manicured shrubs, tall evergreens, and blooming winter roses line the drive. I park the borrowed SUV between two luxury sports cars and take a deep breath.
I gather garment bags and make my way to the front door. A young woman answers before I can climb the last step.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she says, heels clicking along marble.
Inside, glitter and gold everywhere. Crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling, the rich scent of leather and linen in the air. A towering Christmas tree stretches to the cathedral ceiling, adorned with oversized silver ornaments.
She leads me to a salon flooded with sun through floor-to-ceiling windows, Tiffany lamps and fresh flowers catching the light.
And there, by the window, sun highlighting her chic black bob, is Tabitha.
“Jess,” she says, a touch impatient. “Finally.”
I nod, trying to appear calm despite my stomach doing cartwheels. “Thank you for having me.”
She gestures to an empty rack. “Hopefully you can fill this.”
“Yes.” Confidence surges as I hang the bags. “I can.”
The evening blurs past. When I return to my car, shivering not from the cold, I know I did it. I actually did it.
I can’t stop smiling as I pull out my phone. Instagram. The blinking cursor dares me to post.
I scroll to the Stingers game photo—Clark and me with the mascot. Cheeks flushed, his eyes crinkled with laughter. We look happy. Real.
I post before overthinking:
? Dreams really do come true.
Huge thanks to everyone who believed in me—especially him.
You taught me to take a chance, lead with heart, and believe that even in a storm, there’s magic waiting.
This one’s for you, Clark. ?? #dreambig #fashionjourney #thankyou
Comments flood in within minutes:
So proud of you, Jess!
This is amazing!
Who’s the guy?
I grin. My heart is so full it might burst.