Chapter 27- Ellie
My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet.
I blink up at the ceiling, heart already racing, and for a second I just lie there in the quiet morning light, letting it sink in.
Today.
Today is the day.
I grab my phone from under my pillow — 5:59 a.m.
One minute before the alarm.
I smile to myself.
Before I can even think, I send Oliver a sleepy text:
Ellie: Wakie wakie handsome.
I set the phone down and press my hands to my face, trying to calm the butterflies that have been fluttering in my stomach since last night.
I’m going to Starlace Hollow.
With Oliver.
With Moony.
My alarm finally rings, and I shut it off before it can even finish the first note.
I slip out of bed and tiptoe into the hallway. Dad is already in the kitchen, pouring coffee into his favorite mug. He looks up when he hears me.
“Well, well,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “You’re up early.”
I grin. “Big day.”
He chuckles, handing me a mug. “I know. I’m excited for you.”
I take a sip, warmth spreading through me — not just from the coffee, but from him. From the way he’s been so supportive. So trusting. So… Dad.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “For letting me go. For trusting him. For trusting me.”
He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re growing up, Ellie. And Oliver… he’s a good kid. I can see how much he cares about you.”
My throat tightens. “He really does.”
Dad smiles. “I know.”
I finish my coffee and head to my room to get ready. I shower quickly, then pick out my outfit — something cute but comfortable. I pack my bag, double-checking everything: clothes, snacks, charger, camera, Moony’s leash.
I look in the mirror and take a breath.
I look… happy.
Really happy.
My phone buzzes.
Oliver: On my way, beautiful.
I squeal quietly, grab my bag, and practically run to the living room.
Dad is waiting by the door, holding two travel mugs.
“For you and Oliver,” he says, handing them to me. “Fuel for the road.”
“Thank you,” I say, hugging him tightly.
A moment later, I hear the familiar sound of tires on gravel. I peek out the window.
Oliver’s car pulls up — clean, shiny, practically glowing in the morning sun. Moony’s head pops out the back window, tail wagging wildly.
Dad opens the front door just as Oliver steps out of the car.
“Morning, sir,” Oliver says, smiling.
“Morning,” Dad replies, handing him the second travel mug. “Drive safe. And take care of my girl.”
“I will,” Oliver says, and he means it.
He always means it.
He walks around the car and opens the passenger door for me. Moony barks happily from the back seat, her freshly washed fur shining.
I hug Dad one more time.
“Take pictures,” he says. “And don’t forget to look up.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
I climb into the car, and Oliver closes the door gently behind me. He gets in on his side, starts the engine, and glances at me with that soft smile that makes my heart melt.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, smiling so hard it almost hurts. “Ready.”
We pull out of the driveway, Dad waving from the porch, Moony settling down behind us, the morning sun spilling across the road ahead.
Music plays softly.
Oliver reaches for my hand.
I squeeze his back.
And just like that…
the adventure begins.
The morning sun is barely awake, stretching soft gold across the sky as Oliver pulls out of my driveway. I settle into the passenger seat, Moony’s tail thumping happily behind us, and for a moment I just… breathe.
It feels real now.
We’re really doing this.
Oliver glances at me, his hand still wrapped around mine.
“You look excited,” he says, smiling.
“I am,” I admit. “Are you?”
He squeezes my hand. “More than you know.”
My heart does a full somersault.
I reach for the aux cord, and Oliver raises an eyebrow.
“Oh no,” he says. “Here we go.”
“What?” I laugh. “You don’t trust my music taste?”
“I trust you,” he says dramatically. “Your playlists? Questionable.”
I gasp. “Excuse me?”
He grins. “Play whatever you want, beautiful.”
So I do.
The first song starts — soft, upbeat, the kind that makes the morning feel brighter — and Oliver taps the steering wheel in rhythm. Moony sticks her head between the seats, sniffing the air like she’s trying to judge the playlist too.
“Don’t start,” I tell her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Oliver laughs, and the sound fills the car like sunlight.
We drive for a while, the world passing in warm blurs of green and gold. I sip the coffee Dad made, the travel mug warm in my hands. Oliver keeps glancing at me — not in a creepy way, but in that soft, quiet way he does when he thinks I’m not looking.
I catch him once.
“What?” I ask, smiling.
“Nothing,” he says, cheeks pink. “Just… happy.”
I melt.
We stop at a gas station halfway there. Oliver fills the tank while I run inside for snacks. I come back with chips, gummy worms, and two chocolate bars.
He looks at the pile in my arms. “We’re going for two days, Ellie.”
“And?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
He laughs. “You’re impossible.”
Moony barks like she agrees.
Back on the road, I unwrap a chocolate bar and break off a piece, holding it out to him.
He leans over and takes it from my fingers, eyes still on the road.
“Thank you,” he says, voice low.
My cheeks warm.
I take out my phone and snap a picture of him — the sunlight on his face, his hair a little messy, his hand resting on the wheel.
He glances over. “Did you just take a picture of me?”
“Maybe.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “You’re cute.”
“So are you.”
He reaches for my hand again, threading our fingers together.
And just like that, with the music playing softly, Moony snoring in the back seat, and the road stretching out ahead of us…
It feels like the whole world is opening up.
Like this trip isn’t just a trip.
It’s a beginning.
The road curves gently through the trees, sunlight flickering between the branches like little sparks of gold. Moony is awake now, her head resting between our seats, tail thumping every time Oliver laughs at something I say.
We’ve been driving for almost two hours when the GPS finally says:
“Turn right in 300 feet.”
My heart jumps.
Oliver glances at me, smiling. “We’re close.”
I press my hands to my cheeks, trying not to squeal. “Oh my gosh.”
We turn onto a narrow gravel road lined with tall pines. The air looks different here — clearer, softer, like the world is holding its breath.
Then, through the trees, I see it.
The cabin.
A beautiful, warm-wood cabin with a wraparound porch, big windows, and a stone chimney. Smoke isn’t rising yet, but I can already imagine it — the glow, the warmth, the quiet.
“Oliver…” I whisper. “It’s beautiful.”
He doesn’t look at the cabin.
He looks at me.
“I hoped you’d like it,” he says softly.
I do more than like it.
I love it.
I love this .
I love him .
He parks the car, and Moony immediately tries to climb into my lap, whining with excitement.
“Okay, okay,” I laugh, opening the door. “We’re here, baby.”
Moony jumps out and starts sniffing everything like she’s the official inspector of the forest.
I step out onto the gravel, the air cool and crisp against my skin. The cabin smells like pine and cedar and something warm I can’t quite name.
Oliver grabs our bags from the trunk, and I walk up the porch steps, running my hand along the wooden railing.
“This is perfect,” I say again, because it is.
Oliver joins me, setting the bags down by the door. “Ready to see inside?”
I nod, bouncing on my toes.
He unlocks the door and pushes it open.
The inside is even better.
A stone fireplace sits in the center of the living room, with a soft gray couch facing it. A big window looks out into the forest, sunlight spilling across a thick rug that Moony immediately flops onto like she owns the place.
There’s a small kitchen with wooden cabinets, a dining table with two chairs, and a staircase leading up to a loft bedroom with a huge bed covered in fluffy blankets.
I spin around slowly, taking it all in.
“Oliver… this is like a movie.”
He leans against the doorframe, watching me with that soft, warm expression that makes my heart feel too big for my chest.
“I wanted it to feel special,” he says. “For you.”
I walk over to him, standing close enough to feel his breath.
“It already does,” I whisper.
He smiles — that quiet, gentle smile that melts me every time — and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
Moony barks once, breaking the moment, and we both laugh.
“Come on,” Oliver says, grabbing the bags. “Let’s unpack.”
We put our things away — snacks in the kitchen, clothes in the dresser, Moony’s toys in a little corner she immediately claims. The whole time, we keep bumping into each other, laughing, brushing hands, stealing glances.
At one point, I stand by the big window, staring out at the trees swaying in the breeze.
Oliver comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
“More than okay,” I whisper. “I’m… happy.”
He kisses the side of my head, slow and soft.
“Me too.”
We stand there for a moment, just breathing, just being, just existing in the quiet together.
And as the sunlight filters through the trees and Moony snores softly on the rug…
I realize something.
This already feels like a memory I’ll keep forever.
Oliver finishes setting our bags down by the dresser, and for a moment the cabin is quiet — just the soft hum of the forest outside and Moony’s little snoring noises from the rug.
I stand there, watching him.
The way the afternoon light hits his hair.
The way his shoulders relax now that we’re here.
The way he looks so calm, so steady, so… him.
My chest warms.
He turns around, catching me staring, and his eyebrows lift slightly.
“What?” he asks, smiling a little.
I shake my head, but I don’t look away. “Nothing. Just… you look really handsome right now.”
His cheeks tint pink — that soft, shy blush he gets when he doesn’t know what to do with a compliment.
“Ellie…” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck.
I step closer.
One step.
Then another.
Until I’m right in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
His eyes soften. “What are you doing?”
I don’t answer.
Instead, I rise onto my toes, lean in gently, and press a soft kiss to the side of his neck — right where his pulse beats warm beneath his skin.
He inhales sharply, not in surprise, but in that quiet, overwhelmed way he gets when he feels something deeply.
I pull back just enough to look up at him.
His eyes are warm.
Soft.
Full.
“Ellie…” he whispers again, voice low.
I smile, brushing my thumb along his jaw.
“Should we start a fire?” I ask softly. “Make it cozy in here?”
“Yeah,” he says, his forehead resting gently against mine. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Oliver’s hands slide to my waist, pulling me a little closer.
He pauses — just long enough for me to feel his breath — and then his lips meet mine in a soft, warm kiss.
Then he pulls away only to kneel by the fireplace, gathering the logs, and I watch him with a smile I can’t hide.
The cabin feels warmer already.