Chapter 19
HAZEL
I wake to the shrill sound of my alarm. My hand smacks around for the snooze button before my brain catches up, confusion swirling. Why would I set an alarm when I’d fallen asleep in Benjamin’s arms—in his bed, safe and warm?
The cold realization settles over me as I open my eyes.
I’m home.
Not in his room, not wrapped up in the heavy quilt that smelled like pine and woodsmoke. Just here, in my tiny one-room cottage, curled in a lonely nest of blankets on the floor.
My tree twinkles faintly in the corner—every ornament carefully placed, every light glowing—but it doesn’t bring the same warmth as the Oakwoods’ Christmas tree. Theirs had felt alive, enchanted somehow—full of laughter, tradition, and love.
Mine just feels… normal.
And normal, after two days of magic, tastes bitter.
I rub my eyes and stumble into the kitchen.
The coffee pot sputters to life, filling the space with its usual earthy aroma.
I make it just the way I like it, with a side of buttered toast. But when I take a bite, it tastes flat.
Stale. Bland compared to the feasts Benjamin’s mom had prepared, to the way he’d stolen bites off my plate with a grin that made my stomach flip.
Am I really going to compare every meal for the rest of my life to his family’s cooking?
I flop onto a chair, dragging my phone closer, hoping—ridiculously hoping—that I’ve missed a text, a call, something.
But my notifications are empty. I’d given Benjamin my number before I left his house, pressed the slip of paper into his hand like it meant something.
He’d tucked it into his pocket, grinning like a fool.
Didn’t he say the signal was spotty up there? I’d lost reception more than once during my stay. Maybe he just… couldn’t.
Still, disappointment creeps in like a cold draft.
A shiver runs down my spine as my mind betrays me, dragging me back to the first night we met—snow falling thick and blinding, my car buried in a drift, no reception, no way out. And then Benjamin, larger than life, appearing through the storm like some guardian lumberjack.
I shake it off and down the rest of my coffee, forcing myself to move. Normal. Routine. Work will help.
By the door, my gaze snags on the gift he gave me—the fleece-lined gloves, white wool soft as clouds. I tug them on, press my nose to them, inhaling faint traces of cinnamon and pine. My chest aches, but I relish the warmth as I step into the sharp bite of winter air.
The town is just as it always is. Storefronts decorated, wreaths hanging, snow shoveled into uneven piles. But it all looks… duller somehow. Like the sparkle has been scrubbed away, leaving only the grey.
“Get ahold of yourself, Hazel,” I mutter, tugging the gloves tighter. “One night with a man”—my cheeks flame just remembering how good it had been—“doesn’t erase the rest of the world’s magic.”
Except… hadn’t it?
For the first time since my parents died, I’d started to feel like the world was bright again. Like maybe there was beauty worth holding onto. And now, standing in the middle of town, everything feels hollow without him in it.
I pull into the shop’s back parking lot and nearly trip over my own feet when I catch sight of a tall figure walking down the street. Blue plaid shirt. Broad shoulders. My heart leaps, thundering—Benjamin—
But the man comes closer, and it’s not him. Just some stranger.
I sag, air hissing from my lungs. Pathetic.
Look at you, Hazel, jumping at every man who even remotely resembles him.
The bell above the shop door jingles as I step inside, the smell of sugar and peppermint wrapping around me. Mrs. Holmes greets me with her usual cheer, and I paste on a smile, throwing myself into the rhythm of work—candy-making, restocking, chatting with customers.
But all day, my thoughts drift back to him. His laugh, low and warm. The way his eyes softened when he looked at me. The raw strength of him in the snow, wrestling Nathan under the moonlight, fur gleaming white against the night.
A touch on my shoulder startles me. I blink, realizing the shop is quiet. Mrs. Holmes stands there with my scarf and jacket in her hands.
“Hazel, dear, are you alright? It’s time to go home.”
“Oh. I—I lost track of time. Sorry.”
Her brow arches, and a sly smile curves her lips. “Daydreaming about a certain young, strapping gentleman?”
I laugh weakly, heat rushing to my cheeks. “You’re as bad as Benjamin’s gran.”
“Mhmm. I know that look.” She pats my arm before handing over my gloves. “The holidays stir up all kinds of things in the heart. Drive safe now.”
I nod, mumbling thanks as I step outside. My boots crunch in the snow, the night quiet around me.
All I can see in my mind’s eye is Benjamin’s massive form crashing into Nathan under the glow of the full moon—the sound of his growl reverberating through me.
I swallow hard. I’ve never wanted someone so badly. Never missed anyone like this.
And it’s only been one night.
What if it meant more to me than him?
“Hazel, you could what-if all day, and it won’t change anything,” I say aloud as I turn the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, and I pull onto the main road toward home—only to remember I haven’t eaten anything but stale bread, coffee, and a few pantry scraps.
I can’t survive on carbs and caffeine.
I flip on the turn signal and head toward the only grocery store in town.