Chapter 8
The Manhattan skyline sparkled like a Christmas ad on TV as Ally gazed out the hotel window.
Behind her, Colton was on the phone with his agent, his voice a low murmur as he paced across the plush carpet.
Snow fell outside, dusting the city in a fine white powder that softened the hard edges of buildings and streets.
“Sorry about that,” he said, sliding his phone into his pocket as he came to stand beside her. “Rick says the campaign photos look great. They want to schedule another shoot in January.”
Ally leaned back against him as his arms encircled her waist. “I still can’t believe I’m dating a model,” she teased.
“Former baseball player turned reluctant model,” he corrected, kissing the top of her head. “And only because they’re paying ridiculous money for me to stand around looking uncomfortable in expensive clothes.”
She turned in his arms. “You don’t look uncomfortable in the photos I’ve seen. You look...” She paused, a flush creeping up her neck. “Well, let’s just say I might need to buy a few copies of that magazine when it comes out.”
Colton laughed, the sound warming her from the inside out. “Come on, we’ve got reservations at Rockefeller Center in an hour. I want to see it through your eyes.”
The ice rink at Rockefeller Center was packed with tourists and locals alike, all circling beneath the massive Christmas tree that towered above them, adorned with thousands of twinkling lights. Ally clutched Colton’s hand as they glided, unsteady on her part, around the rink.
“I haven’t done this since I was a kid.” She wobbled before finding her balance again.
Colton, naturally athletic, moved with easy grace beside her. “You’re doing great,” he encouraged, steadying her with a strong arm.
As they skated, Ally noticed the occasional double-takes from passersby. A woman nudged her friend and pointed discreetly. A teenage boy did a complete 180-degree turn to stare at Colton.
“Excuse me!” A man in his thirties approached them as they glided near the rink’s edge. “You’re Colton Matthews, right? The pitcher for the Kansas Tornadoes?”
Colton’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Former pitcher,” he corrected, his voice polite but strained.
“Man, that World Series game in ’21 was incredible! Could I get a quick photo?” The fan was already pulling out his phone, not waiting for an answer.
“Sure.” Colton’s smile looked practiced, distant. He posed briefly, then gently guided Ally away as soon as the camera clicked.
She felt the shift in him immediately. The way his shoulders tensed, how his easy grace on the ice changed as he was more aware of the crowd.
“Does it bother you?” Her voice was quiet as they moved to a less crowded area. “The attention?”
“It’s not the attention,” he said, his eyes focused ahead. “It’s that they see me as someone I can’t be anymore. That injury didn’t just end my career—it ended who I was.” He squeezed her hand. “Does it bother you? The photos, the questions? I know the tabloid stories about us haven’t been...”
“Flattering?” she finished. The stories had been brutal, calling her a small-town nobody, speculating about whether she was after his money. “I’m still figuring that out,” she admitted.
The question hung between them as they completed another lap.
Did it bother her? The tabloid photos of them at the farmer’s market, the speculation about their relationship, the invasive questions from reporters who’d somehow gotten her phone number.
But more than that, she worried about how his fame might disrupt the peace she’d found, casting a spotlight on their quiet corner of the world.
“I love my life in Blueberry Hill. The thought of it changing, just when I’ve found my place, is.
.. daunting.” Her words came out whispered.
“And I worry about you. You’re still trying to figure out who you are without baseball, and this modeling thing, the endorsements, it feels like you’re being pulled back into a world that hurt you. ”
Colton nodded, his expression thoughtful.
“Maybe you’re right. Some days I don’t know if I’m moving forward or just running in circles.
” He paused their skating, pulling her to face him.
“But here’s what I do know. None of this changes who I am with you.
The cameras, the contracts, even the ugly stories, that’s just noise.
You see me for who I am now, not who I used to be. ”
“I know.” She meant it. The Colton she knew was the man who helped her build shelves in her greenhouse, who patiently endured her family’s Sunday dinners, who treated her cat Mandy with the same care he showed his own dog, Daisy.
The man who was learning to find purpose beyond the pitcher’s mound.
Her brother, Ryan, had texted them pictures of Mandy sleeping next to Daisy.
He was pet-sitting for them while they were gone, adding even more chaos to the little Sears cottage even if he and Christina were staying in the apartment above the garage.
As they left the rink and wandered through the city, hand in hand, Ally marveled at the holiday displays in store windows.
Elaborate winter wonderlands, mechanical Santas, and sparkling jewelry that caught the light.
In one jewelry store window, a display of engagement rings made her pause briefly before moving on, her heart doing a strange flip in her chest.
They ended the afternoon with a horse-drawn carriage ride through Central Park, wrapped in a thick wool blanket as snow dusted the bare tree branches overhead. Ally snapped a selfie of them both, their cheeks pink from the cold, the city’s winter wonderland stretching behind them.
“Mom’s going to love this,” she said, quickly sending the photo with a message.
Having a magical time in the city! Can’t wait to tell you everything. Love you.
That evening, after a dinner at an intimate Italian restaurant tucked away from the tourist crowds, they walked back to their hotel through light snow, enjoying the holiday crowds.
It was nice when it wasn’t her usual day-to-day life, though Ally couldn’t help thinking there was no way she could live with all this noise and people everywhere.
“This is so different from Blueberry Hill,” she said, watching a street performer draw a small crowd with his saxophone.
“Good different or bad different?” Colton asked, slipping his arm around her shoulders as they navigated around a group of tourists taking photos.
“Just... different.” She leaned into his warmth. “I love visiting, but I think I’ve become too much of a small-town girl at heart.”
Colton guided her to a bench that had been cleared of snow, sitting down beside her so they could people watch. Above them, strands of white lights were strung between trees, creating a canopy of stars.
“You know what I realized today?” he said, watching people hurry past with shopping bags and coffee cups.
“What’s that?”
“I used to think this was everything. The city, the energy, being seen at the right places.” He gestured at the bustling street around them. “But now... I don’t know. It feels kind of empty.”
Ally studied his profile in the soft glow of the streetlights. “Do you miss it? The old life?”
“Parts of it,” he admitted. “I miss the adrenaline, the competition. But not the rest. Not the constant performance, the feeling like I always had to be ‘on.’” He turned to face her. “With you, I can just be myself.”
“Even when you’re not sure who that is yet?”
He smiled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Especially then. You don’t need me to have all the answers.”
A horse-drawn carriage clip-clopped past them, the driver bundled in a thick coat, tourists snuggled under blankets pointing at the Christmas decorations.
“This has been perfect,” she said softly. “All of it. The skating, dinner, just... being here with you.”
“Yeah?” His voice was warm with relief. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like all the touristy stuff.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve never done any of this fun stuff before. The carriage ride, Rockefeller Center...” She laughed. “I felt like I was in a movie.”
“You looked beautiful out there on the ice,” he said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Even when you were wobbling.”
“Hey!” She nudged him playfully. “I was not wobbling that much.”
“You were adorable,” he insisted, catching her hand in his. “Everything about today was perfect because you were there.”
The snow continued to fall around them, dusting their shoulders and catching in Ally’s hair. Light flakes settled on their coats as the city hummed on around them, traffic, laughter, music from nearby restaurants.
“I’m glad I came with you,” she said, fingers intertwined with his. “But I’m also looking forward to going home.”
Colton leaned forward and kissed her as snowflakes drifted down around them, soft and unhurried, tasting like wine and promises. The snow dusted their coats and caught in her dark hair, creating the perfect movie moment she’d dreamed about. When they broke apart, his forehead rested against hers.
“Together,” he whispered, and the word felt like exactly what she needed to hear.
* * *
Back in Blueberry Hill, the town was abuzz with talk of the Secret Santa. Christina had just finished a video call with Ally, who had shown her several of the store windows all decorated for Christmas, when Ryan burst through the door, his cheeks red from the cold.
“You won’t believe what happened,” he said, unwinding his scarf. Angus trotted in behind him, shaking snow from his coat.
“What now? Did Bertha eat another nativity scene?” Christina asked, remembering how Mary’s goat had developed a particular taste for the straw in the town square’s display.
“No, this is huge,” he said, pulling off his boots. “Sheriff Cooper got a call this morning. Someone made an anonymous donation to the food pantry. Ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand! Plus they had three truckloads of groceries and toys delivered.”
Christina nearly choked on her coffee. “Ten thousand dollars?”
Ryan nodded, his eyes wide. “Sheriff Cooper said it’s enough to keep the food pantry stocked through Easter. And the toys? They filled the entire community center gymnasium. Brand new bikes, dolls, games, winter coats, everything.”
Christina set down her mug, stunned. The mysterious Secret Santa had been the talk of the town for weeks now, but this was beyond anything they’d seen before. “That’s not just generous, that’s... life-changing for a lot of families.”
“And get this,” he continued, heading to the kitchen for hot chocolate. “The delivery drivers said someone paid them in cash to make the delivery, but they never saw who hired them. Just got a call, an address, and an envelope full of money.”
“Any ideas who it might be?” she asked, though she suspected the answer hadn’t changed.
Ryan shrugged. “Everyone’s more curious than ever. Some people think it’s Dane from the distillery, he had a good year with that special holiday whiskey. Others say it might be that writer guy who bought the old Henderson place last summer.”
“James Roberts?” Christina folded the kitchen towels. “I don’t think he even lives here full-time.”
“He’s been around more lately,” Ryan pointed out. “Charlie saw him at the diner yesterday.”
As they settled in the living room with their cocoa, Sam appeared, Bella at her heels. The girl still moved like a shadow sometimes, quiet and watchful, but Christina had noticed her relaxing over the past couple of days.
“Hey,” she lifted her mug. “Want some hot chocolate? Ryan’s been telling me about our Secret Santa’s latest miracle.”
Sam hesitated, then nodded, coming to perch on the edge of the sofa. She folded up the bedding and put the sofa back each morning without Christina having to ask. “I heard people talking about it at the library. They said every kid in town will have Christmas presents now.”
“Really?” Ryan looked amazed. “How do you know that?”
Sam accepted the mug Christina handed her. “Mrs. Martinez at the library was crying happy tears. She said her kids would actually have gifts under the tree this year because of the donation.”
Christina sipped her cocoa, thinking. “Ten thousand dollars. That’s not pocket change for anyone, even if they’re well-off.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” Sam said quietly. “Maybe whoever it is knows what it’s like to go without.”
Her voice was soft, almost wondering, and Christina was struck again by how young she looked in these unguarded moments, and how much wisdom she carried despite her age.
As they sat together, the Christmas lights twinkling on the tree Christina had set up in the living room, she thought about her sister in New York with Colton, about the changes coming for all of them.
And somewhere in Blueberry Hill, someone was spreading quiet joy, asking nothing in return.
Christina smiled into her mug. Maybe that was the real magic of Christmas—not the grand gestures or perfect moments, but the acts of kindness that rippled outward, touching lives in ways the giver might never even know.