Chapter 17
Eve
I’m outside on the front porch, Cringle at my heels following as I pace back and forth, triple-checking the list Mom and I made for tomorrow morning’s final event—the Christmas Eve Decorating Spectacular—the final event in the Holly Ridge Christmas Festival.
If we win this, the inn can survive another year.
I set the clipboard down and lift the string of tangled Christmas lights.
Luke’s late. The plan was to set up everything the reindeer will need for tomorrow so that all we had to do in the morning was hook up the eight reindeer to the sleigh.
My eyes cut to the horizon where the sun is starting to descend past the treeline. It’s not even four p.m. yet. He may be late, but he isn’t absurdly so, I reason with myself.
I tug on the tangled strand of Christmas lights, trying to unknot the middle of them.
Even though Mom told me I was crazy to add more, I had to do something.
We need to wow the judges. And what is Santa’s sleigh without Christmas lights on it?
I’m halfway through detangling the first strand when the familiar sound of gravel crunching under tires pulls me to the window of the inn. Luke’s truck.
Finally.
I set the lights down and smooth my North Star Lodge sweatshirt over my hips, pretending like I haven’t been pacing the front porch waiting for him. He’s late, but that doesn’t matter. And I’m definitely not anxious to see him.
Ha, liar.
The door to his truck swings open and out steps Luke, the man who kissed me breathless in front of the whole town just the other day and then spent another night tangled around me like I was the only thing keeping him warm.
But the version of Luke on my front stoop right now? Not the same one who made pancakes with me this morning. His jaw’s tight, his shoulders are tense, and his eyes don’t meet mine right away.
Oh no.
“Hey,” I say, cautiously cheerful. “I figured you’d be in a good mood. Last day of deliveries, and all we have left to do is bring the reindeer tomorrow and win this thing.”
He gives a noncommittal grunt as he kicks snow off his boots.
Okay. So… not cheerful.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, trying not to let the spike of worry in my chest show. “Did Princess Sparkles eat another one of the wreaths Aunt May made?”
He huffs a laugh through his nose, but it’s not exactly amusement. “No reindeer incidents today. At least not yet.”
I watch as he sets down a couple of large metal pens in the front lawn area and plastic containers stacked with rope, signage, and little feed buckets. Everything we asked for. Everything we need for tomorrow.
So what’s with the mood?
“Thanks for bringing everything,” I say, folding my arms to keep from reaching for him. “That means tomorrow we can just drive the reindeer over, set them up, and Dad gets to play Santa for the kids and judges. Easy-peasy.”
Luke finally looks up. His eyes are unreadable. “Sure… easy.”
My stomach knots. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head, looking away, like he regrets saying anything. “Nothing.”
“No,” I step forward. “You drove all the way over here to drop off perfectly labeled containers while pretending like you’re not mad about something. So whatever it is, just say it.”
He pauses, then asks, “Are you planning on sticking around after the holidays?”
My mouth opens—and then closes. Because yes. I mean… I think so. Probably.
But I haven’t told him about the job offer in LA yet, and now, the way he’s looking at me, the weight in that question, the trap it suddenly feels like—I panic.
“I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
“Really?” His jaw tightens again. “You haven’t thought about it?”
“I’ve been a little busy wrangling your reindeer and trying to keep the lodge from financially imploding,” I shoot back. “I figured the whole ‘existential life plan’ thing could wait until after we win the festival tomorrow and I secure my parent’s future… at least for the next 12 months.”
Luke nods slowly, like that answer confirms something he already suspected. Then he lifts one of the bins and moves it to the right side of the reindeer pen.
I follow. “Did someone say something to you?”
“Nope,” he replies, his answer way too short to be truthful.
“Then what’s going on?”
He turns to me, brow furrowed. “Would you even tell me if you were planning on leaving?”
My breath catches.
“Why would I be leaving?” I ask, even though the words feel like a lie in my mouth. I haven’t accepted the job. I wasn’t going to. Not really.
But I didn’t exactly turn it down yet either.
He doesn’t answer. Just stares at me like he’s trying to solve a riddle with no right answer.
I swallow hard. “Luke…”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, too quickly. “We had a night. A few nights, actually.. I helped you win Caroloke, and you taught a reindeer to eat candy canes out of your hand. That doesn’t exactly spell wedding bells and a lifelong commitment.”
The wall is back up. The one I spent two weeks chipping away at.
And worse, I can hear it in his voice—the thing he’s not saying. He’s already preparing to let me go.
“Do you want me to stay?” I ask, heart thudding.
He doesn’t answer. Not right away. And the longer the silence stretches between us, the more it sounds like no.
“I should get back to the farm,” he mutters, brushing past me.
“Luke.” I catch his sleeve. He stops, but doesn’t turn. “I love it here. I love my parents. I love the lodge. And I love… I love…”
But I can’t say the last part. Not when he won’t even look at me. “I love y—”
Luke’s shoulders drop just slightly and he cuts me off before I can finish my thought. “Then why didn’t you tell me about the job offer?” he asks, voice low and rough like it hurts to speak the words.
My pulse spikes. “What?”
He steps closer. “The job back in LA, Eve. Why didn’t you tell me you were offered a position back there? Not just any ol’ job either. Your dream job.”
Oh.
My stomach drops. He does know. “Who told you?”
His laugh is dry, humorless. “Pick someone. Mrs. Garcia at the Jolly Bean. Gemma, of all people. Feels like half the town knew before I did.”
“I wasn’t hiding it,” I say quickly, but even I hear the defensiveness in my voice.
“No?” he asks, arms crossing. “You just conveniently didn’t mention it after we spent the night together? After we started acting like—what? Like this was something?”
I feel like he’s just punched the air out of my lungs. “I only just got the call this morning. I swear. I… I would have told you. Eventually. But there wasn’t anything to tell. Not really. I’m not taking the job.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that?!”
“Because I didn’t want to feel like I was giving up everything for a guy who might not even want me to!”
The silence after that is deafening.
Luke stares at me like I’ve just confirmed his worst fear. Or maybe I’ve just exposed mine.
“You think I don’t want you?” he says, voice flat.
“I don’t know what you want!” I shout back. “One second you’re kissing me like I’m the only woman you’ve ever wanted and the next you’re pushing me away like I’m a problem you never asked for.”
His jaw tightens. “You think I’m pushing you away because I don’t care? I’m trying not to screw this up. I’m trying not to trap you in some tiny town when you have this whole other life somewhere else. You think that’s easy?”
“No,” I whisper. “But it’s not your decision to make.”
We stand there, both of us breathing hard, red-cheeked and furious and way too close.
“I wanted to stay,” I say, quieter now. “For my parents. For the inn. For Christmas. For you.”
Luke shakes his head slowly, his expression unreadable. “Then why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I was going to tell you. I only got the call this morning. But also… I didn’t want it to be about you,” I admit, the words scraping my throat raw. “I didn’t want to make it seem like I was giving up this huge opportunity just to follow a guy—”
He cuts in, voice firm but quiet. “And what happens two years from now when you wake up and realize you made a mistake giving up on your dreams? I don’t want to be the reason you give something up. Not your career. Not your dreams. Not a life you might still want out there.”
With that bomb, he looks away, his expression unreadable.
“Who says I’m giving up on anything? Maybe I have new dreams now. Maybe I want to be here with my parents. Maybe I want to take over the inn! Maybe I want to help you with the farm and the reindeer and Princess Sparkles —”
His eyes snap to mine and when he really looks at me—I see it. The fear. The conflict. The heartbreak that matches the one swelling in my own chest.. “That’s an awful lot of maybes for a girl who’s about to turn down the offer of a lifetime.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “I thought… I thought you’d be happy. I thought you wanted me to stay.” I stand there, still clutching the Christmas lights, my knuckles white around the green wires.
Luke steps closer, closing the space between us. His voice is gentler now as he cups my jaw tenderly. “I do want you to stay,” he says. “More than I should, probably. But not if it’s because you’re running away from something else. Not if one day you’ll wake up and resent me for it.”
Vulnerability shines in his eyes—raw and unguarded, no flannel or sarcasm to hide behind.
“I’ve seen what that kind of regret looks like.
I’ve lived it,” he continues. “And I love Holly Ridge, but I also know it’s not for everyone.
It’s an acquired taste… much like me. So you need to figure out if this place—and me—are for you. ”
The word love echoes in my ears, even though he didn’t say it about me—not exactly. But it’s there, buried in the way he’s looking at me like I already hold too many pieces of him.
He draws in a breath, his voice thick now. “If staying is your dream, Eve—your dream—then I’ll be the happiest damn man in this town. But don’t stay because of me. Not if you’re going to wake up a year from now wondering what you missed out on.”
The silence between us stretches long and taut.
“I don’t know what I want yet,” I whisper, the truth finally cracking through me.
He nods. “Then take the time to figure it out. Before you give anything up. Before we get in too deep and it’s too late to come back from it.”
My throat tightens. “What if it already is?”
Luke’s gaze lingers on me like he’s memorizing my face.
Then, with aching softness, he says, “Then all the more reason to be sure.” He pulls his hand away from my jaw, leaving a chill in the wake of his touch.
“I’ll be here at seven with the reindeer tomorrow.
That should be plenty of time to set up before the judges get here,” he says, and the finality in his voice splinters something deep inside me.
“We’ll get through the contest. You’ll win. And then…”
He trails off.
And then what?
He doesn’t say.
He doesn’t have to.
I can already feel the goodbye building behind his silence.
And with that, he turns and walks out—leaving me standing on the porch of the inn, heart pounding and head spinning, unsure whether I just watched something break… or begin.
And as he gets into his truck, closing the door behind him, I realize the next choice I make might not just decide my future—it might be the one that breaks both of our hearts.