Chapter 22 Dove
DOVE
The snow was falling softly, coating the world in a blanket of quiet serenity.
The woods behind Ashton’s estate had transformed overnight into something out of a fairy tale, the tall trees dusted with white, their branches bending slightly under the weight of the snow.
The air was crisp and clean, every breath stinging my lungs in a way that felt invigorating.
It was the kind of beauty that felt almost unreal, the kind that made you stop and marvel, even when your heart was heavy.
I walked a few steps ahead of him, the crunch of snow under my boots the only sound in the otherwise silent forest. The cold nipped at my cheeks, and I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck, trying to stave off the chill.
But even as the cold bit at my skin, the warmth of his presence behind me was impossible to ignore.
“You’re quiet today,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at him.
Ashton was walking with his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his dark hair dusted with snowflakes.
He looked out of place here in the woods, his sharp, brooding demeanor a stark contrast to the gentle beauty around us.
And yet, somehow, he belonged here. He always seemed to belong, no matter where he was.
“Just taking it all in,” he said, his voice low, almost contemplative.
It was rare to see him like this, so subdued, so…
human. Usually, there was a sharpness to him, an edge that made it hard to relax.
But here, in the quiet of the woods, with the snow falling around us like a soft whisper, I saw something different.
A quiet intensity, yes, but also something softer. Something that made my chest ache.
I stopped walking and turned to face him, wrapping my arms around myself. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked, gesturing to the snow-covered trees around us.
He nodded, his dark eyes scanning the landscape. “Yeah. It is.”
I smiled, but there was a sadness to it.
I couldn’t help it. Moments like this—moments where the world seemed to stand still—always made me think of the things I’d lost. The things I’d never had.
“When I was a kid,” I said softly, my breath fogging in the air, “I used to dream about moments like this. Snow falling, the woods all quiet and peaceful… It felt like the kind of place where magic could happen.”
“Magic?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the hint of a smirk.
“Not real magic,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Romantic magic. Like something out of those cheesy Christmas movies where the girl always gets kissed under the mistletoe while snowflakes fall around her. You know, the kind of stuff that makes people like you roll your eyes and call it ridiculous.”
“I do call it ridiculous,” he said, but there was a teasing warmth in his voice.
I laughed, a small, soft sound that felt too big in the stillness of the woods. “I knew it.”
We started walking again, and I felt him fall into step beside me.
The silence between us was easy, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.
But still, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at him, from watching the way the snow clung to his hair and his coat, from wondering what it would be like to have him look at me the way the men in those Christmas movies looked at the women they couldn’t live without.
“It’s silly, I know,” I said, my voice quieter now. “The whole mistletoe thing. I guess it’s just one of those girlish fantasies that never really goes away. It’s not about the mistletoe, not really. It’s about… being seen. Being chosen. Feeling like you’re special.”
Ashton stopped walking, and I turned to face him, my cheeks heating despite the cold. His dark eyes were unreadable, his expression carefully neutral.
“I’m not the romantic type, Dove,” he said finally, his voice low and even. “I don’t do grand gestures or cheesy fantasies. That’s not who I am.”
“I know,” I said quickly, trying to brush it off, trying to pretend I didn’t feel the sting of his words. “I wasn’t asking—”
“But,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his gaze locking onto mine, “that doesn’t mean you’re not special. It doesn’t mean I don’t see you.”
The breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.
There was something raw in his voice, something that made my chest ache in a way I didn’t fully understand.
He reached out, brushing a snowflake from my hair, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than they needed to.
“You don’t need mistletoe, Dove,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “Not to know that you matter. Not to know that someone would move mountains for you.”
I didn’t know what to say. The words I wanted to say felt too big, too fragile, and I wasn’t sure I could trust my voice to speak them. So instead, I just stood there, staring up at him as the snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in silence.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel cold.
The weight of Ashton’s words hung in the air between us, but I couldn’t let it settle for too long. It was too heavy, too raw, and if I stayed in that moment much longer, I’d melt into a puddle of feelings I wasn’t ready to confront. Not yet.
I stepped back, glancing around at the snow-covered clearing, trying to lighten the mood. A mischievous smile tugged at my lips as an idea sparked in my mind. Ashton was still staring at me, his brooding expression unreadable, when I bent down quickly and scooped up a handful of snow.
Without giving him a chance to react, I lobbed it right at his chest.
The snowball hit him squarely, leaving a small dusting of white against his dark coat.
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he just stared at me, like he couldn’t believe what I’d just done.
Then, he tilted his head, his lips pressing into a thin line, and I could see the storm brewing in his dark gaze.
“Did you just… throw a snowball at me?” His voice was low, slow, like he was trying to process the audacity.
I grinned, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and terror. “Yeah,” I said, stepping back a little. “What are you going to do about it, Mr. Not-Romantic?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he bent down with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving mine, and scooped up a handful of snow.
“Oh, no,” I breathed, taking another step back. “Ashton, wait—”
The snowball flew through the air before I could finish my sentence, hitting me squarely on the shoulder. The impact sent a burst of snowflakes scattering around me, and I gasped in mock outrage.
“You are so dead!” I shouted, quickly bending down to gather more snow.
The woods filled with the sound of snow crunching underfoot as we dodged and threw snowballs at each other.
Ashton, for all his brooding and seriousness, had an unfair advantage.
He was fast—too fast—and his aim was deadly accurate.
I, on the other hand, was more about quantity over quality, throwing snowballs wildly in his direction, half of which missed their mark entirely.
He was grinning now, the kind of grin that softened his hard edges, that made him look almost boyish. It was rare to see him like this, so unguarded, and I couldn’t help but laugh, even as another snowball hit me squarely in the back.
“You’re cheating!” I yelled, laughing as I ducked behind a tree.
“Cheating?” His voice carried through the trees, low and teasing. “You’re the one who started this.”
I peeked out from behind the tree, only to see him standing a few feet away, another snowball in hand. “You’re supposed to be the broody, serious one,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “Not good at snowball fights.”
He smirked, tossing the snowball lightly from one hand to the other. “I’m full of surprises.”
I darted out from behind the tree, gathering a quick handful of snow as I ran, but before I could throw it, he closed the distance between us in a few long strides.
“Ashton, no!” I shrieked, trying to back away, but it was too late.
He grabbed me by the waist, pulling me close as he dumped a handful of snow right on top of my head. The cold, wet snow slid down the back of my coat, and I let out a dramatic groan, my body writhing as I tried to shake it off.
“You’re such a jerk!” I laughed, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t let me go. His arms stayed around my waist, holding me close, and suddenly, the playful moment shifted.
His breath was warm against my cheek, his eyes darker now, more intense as they locked onto mine.
The snowflakes continued to fall around us, catching in his hair, melting against his skin.
My heart pounded, not from the cold, but from the way he was looking at me—like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“You’re shivering,” he said quietly, his voice low and rough.
“I wonder why,” I teased, trying to keep the moment light, but my voice came out softer than I intended
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached up, brushing a stray snowflake from my hair, his fingers lingering against my temple. I could barely breathe, my chest tightening as I waited for… I didn’t even know what.
But then, just as quickly as the moment had shifted, he stepped back, letting his arms fall to his sides.
“We should head back,” he said, his voice gruff, his expression unreadable once again.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
As we started walking back through the snow-covered woods, I couldn’t help but glance over at him. He was quiet again, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed straight ahead. But for a brief moment, when he caught me looking at him, his lips curved into the faintest of smiles, and my heart fluttered.
Maybe he wasn’t the romantic type. But in his own way, Ashton Riley was everything I never knew I wanted.