Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Leo Carter was having a one-sided argument with a reindeer named Comet. It was less of an argument and more of a negotiation, really, and the fact that Leo was doing all the talking didn’t mean he wasn’t losing.
“Look,” he said, his breath fogging in the crisp December air. “The fence post is new. It’s solid. It is not, I repeat, not a chew toy.”
Comet, a young buck with a big attitude, blinked his long-lashed brown eyes and gave the fresh-cut pine post a deliberate, testing nudge with his nose.
The faint scent of sawdust and pine sap clung to the air, a smell Leo usually found comforting but today just smelled like another fifty-dollar repair.
“Don’t even think about it,” Leo warned.
He ran a gloved hand down the reindeer’s furry neck, the coarse hair familiar and grounding.
This was his world: the scent of hay and cold earth, the jingle of a harness, the gentle weight of a thousand-pound animal leaning into his touch. It was predictable. It was safe.
A loud thud came from the back of the bakery that abutted his land. He glanced over, expecting to see a delivery truck or maybe Mabel wrestling with a crate of something.
Instead, he saw something he had never expected to see again.
Jade Bennett.
His brain took a half-second to catch up with his eyes.
It was like seeing a character from an old dog-eared novel walk off the page.
She was wrestling a large suitcase out of the trunk of a beat-up Subaru, her auburn hair cut in a bob that swung just above the collar of her very determined-looking wool coat.
She looked… the same. And completely different.
Older, sure, but the set of her jaw was the same one he remembered from their high school physics project, the one that meant she was two seconds away from either solving the problem or throwing the entire thing out the window.
She yanked the suitcase from the trunk, lost her grip, and it thudded to the ground hard enough to nearly knock her off balance before she wrestled it upright and dragged it toward the bakery door, disappearing inside.
The world tilted slightly on its axis. Jade Bennett was back.
“Well, I’ll be,” a low voice drawled from behind him.
Leo started, turning to see Brice Matthews leaning against the fence line they’d just spent the morning repairing.
Brice was a mountain of a man, all flannel and beard and quiet competence, and he’d been Leo’s best friend since they were old enough to get into trouble together.
He was also unfortunately deeply observant.
“What?” Leo asked, feigning ignorance as he turned his attention back to Comet, giving the reindeer an unnecessarily firm pat. “Finish your work already?”
Brice ignored the question, a slow grin spreading under his beard. “Was that Jade? Didn’t know she was back in town.”
“Looks like her,” he muttered, picking a piece of hay off his jacket. “And I didn’t either.”
“Huh,” Brice said, the single syllable loaded with meaning. He straightened up from the fence and ambled over, giving Comet a scratch behind the ears. The reindeer, a notorious traitor, leaned into the touch with a soft snuffle. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Don’t be an idiot. I’m just surprised.” Leo shoved his hands in his pockets, the leather of his gloves creaking. “Didn’t figure she’d ever come back here.”
“Why not? It’s her home.”
“Felt like she couldn’t wait to leave it,” Leo said, the words coming out sharper than he intended.
It was an old hurt, one he thought he’d buried under years of responsibility and routine.
But seeing her, just for a second, had unearthed it as easily as turning over a shovelful of soil.
Her leaving hadn’t just been about going to college; it had felt like a verdict on Frost Pine Ridge, on everyone who stayed. Especially him.
Brice shot him a knowing look. “Still holding onto that, are you?”
“Holding on to what? I’m busy. This fence isn’t going to hold if Comet decides it’s his personal teething ring.” He gave the post a hard shake to demonstrate its sturdiness. It barely budged. “This farm needs a hundred things, most of them more important than whatever she’s doing back here.”
“She’s probably helping Mabel. Bakery’s in bad shape,” Brice said, his gaze drifting over to Sugar Pine Sweets. “And this fence isn’t going to hold long term, anyway. You need to replace the whole west-facing line before spring thaw, and that’s a couple grand you don’t have.”
The casual truth of it landed like a stone in Leo’s gut.
Brice was right. The farm was a constant battle against time and decay.
Every dollar he made from sleigh rides and the town’s Christmas festival appearances went right back into feed, vet bills, and patching up equipment that was older than he was.
He loved this life, but some days it felt like he was treading water in a very cold pond.
“I’ll figure it out,” he said, his default answer for most problems.
“You always do,” Brice agreed, but his eyes were back on the bakery. “Funny, her showing up right before the Tree Lighting.”
Leo grunted. The Tree Lighting ceremony was the holiest day in the Frost Pine Ridge holiday calendar, orchestrated with military precision and fanatical glee by Mayor Clark.
The back door of the bakery opened again, and Leo’s attention snapped back to it, a reflex he couldn’t control. It was just Mabel this time, shaking out a flour-dusted rug.
His shoulders slumped with a feeling he refused to name—disappointment.
“You’re distracted,” Brice observed, his voice laced with amusement.
“I’m cold,” Leo retorted, turning his back on the bakery and heading for the barn. “Let’s get this done. I’ve got to feed the herd.”
He tried to put her out of his mind, to focus on the familiar rhythm of his chores—the scrape of the shovel, the scent of fresh hay, the soft nudges of his reindeer looking for their evening meal.
But her image was stuck there, a bright, unexpected splash of color against the muted winter landscape of his life.
He found himself thinking about physics class, how she’d chewed on her pen when she was concentrating, how her laugh had been the best sound in the world for about three months of his senior year.
He remembered standing by her locker, the words “Do you want to go to the winter formal with me?” caught in his throat like a fish bone.
He’d been about to get them out when Brad Peterson, captain of everything, had swaggered over to complain about practice.
The moment was lost. A few months later, she was gone, and Leo had learned a valuable lesson: don’t wait for moments.
Better yet, don’t want them in the first place. It saved a lot of trouble.
He closed the heavy barn door, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. The sun was setting, painting the snow in shades of pink and lavender. It was beautiful. It was peaceful.
And now Jade Bennett was back next door, threatening to mess it all up.