Chapter Four
The old storage unit had never seen so much foot traffic. Between the broken lock that had been hastily replaced and the tables stacked with half-sorted toys, wrapping paper, and donation forms, Ellie felt like she was living there part-time.
It was well past nine, and she really should have gone home. But the tree still wasn’t decorated, the banner needed ironing, and there was a box of plushies that hadn’t been sorted by age group.
She crouched by the donation bins, making neat piles on the scuffed concrete floor, muttering labels to herself. “Baby ... toddler ... eight to ten...”
Footsteps echoed behind her, heavy and sure.
“You know,” Dasher drawled, “I could’ve sworn this was a toy drive, not a full-time move-in.”
Ellie didn’t look up. “Do you ever help without commentary?”
“I’m great at heavy lifting and offering moral support.” He stepped beside her, hands full of tangled Christmas lights, and grinned down at her. “Also untangling electrical disasters.”
Ellie rolled her eyes but the corners of her mouth twitched. “That’s a change.”
Dasher dropped to a crouch next to her, close enough that his thigh brushed hers. She tried not to notice. Tried not to notice the warmth of his body, or how the cedar-and-smoke scent of his jacket made her throat tighten.
“You’ve been at this since five,” he said, more gently this time. “You sure you don’t want to call it?”
She shook her head. “There’s too much left to do. The drive’s in four days,” Ellie reminded him.
He nodded, then nudged the box of plushies with one boot. “Let’s sort and then do the tree. Sound fair?”
She hesitated. “You decorate?”
Dasher leaned back on his heels. “Not exactly known for my interior design skills, no. But I can hang an ornament,” he said.
Their eyes met for a heartbeat too long.
“I remember,” Ellie said before she could stop herself, the words softer than she meant. “You used to hang the weirdest ornaments.”
“The beer bottle one was a classic,” he said with a low chuckle. “Don’t lie.”
She looked away, cheeks warming. He hadn’t changed that much, not where it counted. He still had that same crooked smile that melted her defenses. Still looked at her like she was something worth holding onto, even if he never had.
They sorted the last of the toys in silence, side by side. The soft hum of the space heater and the occasional rustle of wrapping paper filled the air. Outside, snow whispered against the pavement.
The tree was fake of course, but still charming, with its wiry branches and box of mismatched ornaments.
By the time they stood in front of the six-foot tree, Ellie felt oddly light.
Like she’d spent the last few hours with someone who remembered who she’d been—before she became the version of herself who color-coded spreadsheets and scheduled dentist appointments for Maddy.
Dasher plugged in the lights and gave a low whistle. “It’s crooked,” he pointed out.
“It’s not crooked,” Ellie argued, eyeing the tree. “It’s just ... leaning with confidence.”
That made him laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”
She handed him a tangle of silver garland. “You hang, I’ll direct.”
“Bossy,” he said under his breath.
“You knew what this was when you volunteered.”
“I was assigned, sweetheart,” he reminded her.
“Same difference.”
He moved up and down a stepladder, looping the garland while she hung ornaments. They worked in a rhythm that surprised her—comfortable, efficient, almost easy. Every so often their fingers brushed as they reached for the same decoration. She didn’t pull back.
“So,” he said as he adjusted a too-heavy ornament near the top, “Maddy. She’s a good kid.”
Ellie froze mid-hang. “You just met her for five seconds,” she pointed out.
“Long enough to know she’s got your eyes.” His voice was quiet now, thoughtful. “And your fire.”
“She’s got her own fire,” Ellie murmured, trying not to get sucked into the way he was watching her. “She’s her own person. I’m just trying not to mess her up.”
Dasher’s gaze didn’t waver. “You won’t,” he told her.
She wasn’t used to people saying that. Not with such confidence.
“You really regret it?” she asked, surprising herself. “Choosing the club over me?”
His hand tightened on the ladder. “Every damn day.”
That silenced her. Her breath caught. The only sound was the rustle of tree branches and the distant hum of the heater.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Dasher went on, slowly stepping down the ladder. “Thought if I pushed you away, you’d be safer. That I’d be better for the club and you’d be better off.”
She swallowed hard. “And now?”
He stopped in front of her. “Now I think maybe I’m still the same damn fool, hoping for a second chance I probably don’t deserve.”
Ellie’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. The warmth of the lights cast a soft golden glow across his face. His eyes weren’t teasing anymore.
“I can’t do reckless anymore, Dasher,” she said, voice low.
“I’m not asking you to.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “But I haven’t stopped wanting you. Even after all this time.”
The air between them shifted. He leaned in. So did she. Her breath caught, heart leaping, but then her phone buzzed loudly on the folding table nearby.
Ellie jumped. “Sorry. Just let me check who’s calling,” she told him.
Dasher stepped back, the moment broken. “Yeah. Of course.”
She answered quickly. It was her mom, just checking in. She set the phone down again with hands that trembled more than she wanted to admit.
“We should finish the tree,” she said, voice rough.
Dasher nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah.”
They didn’t speak much after that. But something had shifted.
****
The house was quiet when Ellie stepped inside, Maddy heavy in her arms and fast asleep against her shoulder.
The porch light clicked off behind them. The snow had started falling harder by the time they’d left the community hall, soft flakes clinging to their coats and lashes like something out of a storybook.
Ellie had driven home in near silence, the only sound Maddy’s occasional sleepy murmurs and the soft hum of the car’s heater.
Now, inside their warm little bungalow, the quiet wrapped around her like a blanket. Safe. Familiar. But tonight, it felt different. Like something had shifted.
Ellie set her keys down, then toed off her boots and moved toward Maddy’s room. Her daughter stirred slightly but didn’t wake as Ellie laid her down on the bed. Pickle, the ever-faithful penguin, was tucked securely under one arm.
“You were so brave, waiting up for me,” Ellie whispered, brushing a few curls off her daughter’s forehead. “And you met Dasher again. That must’ve been a big day for you.”
Maddy didn’t reply, of course, but her breathing evened out, soft and steady.
Ellie sat on the edge of the bed for a moment longer, watching her sleep.
Sometimes she still couldn’t believe this little person belonged to her.
That Maddy had come into her life like a beam of light in the middle of a storm and stayed.
Strong. Sweet. A little stubborn, like her mom. A little too trusting sometimes, too.
Ellie bent and kissed her forehead, then adjusted the blanket around her before standing. She flicked on the night-light, a soft golden bear wearing a scarf, and slipped out the door.
In the kitchen, she poured herself a cup of the tea she’d meant to drink three hours ago. It was cold, of course, but she didn’t bother reheating it. She just curled her hands around the mug and leaned against the counter, staring at nothing.
It had been a long day. A productive one. They were finally almost ready for the toy drive.
And Dasher had been ... different. Not completely, not enough to forget who he’d been when he left. But tonight, he’d made her laugh. He’d helped without pushing. Ellie closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. And he’d almost kissed her.
She could still feel the phantom warmth of it. His closeness, the way his gaze had lingered just a little too long, the way her heart had stuttered even before she realized what was happening.
She hadn’t moved away. That scared her more than anything. Because part of her had wanted it. Heck, she wanted him to stop being such a gentleman and do more than kiss her.
It wasn’t fair, the way memories could sneak up on her like that.
The old ache of wanting him, really wanting him, before everything fell apart.
The boy she used to dream about late at night in the quiet of her childhood bedroom.
The man who’d made her believe in something steady, right up until the moment he didn’t.
And now here he was again. Making her smile. Showing up. Stepping in.
Ellie sighed and padded into the living room, tea still in hand. She curled up on the corner of the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and pulling the throw blanket over her lap.
The Christmas lights strung across the mantle were still on, casting a soft multicolored glow across the walls.
The tree stood tall in the corner, trimmed in handmade ornaments and a crooked paper star Maddy had insisted on making all by herself.
The living room smelled faintly like pine and cinnamon.
It felt like home. But there was a space tonight, a little hollow pocket in her chest that hadn’t been there before. Something she didn’t want to name, because naming it made it real.
Hope. She’d buried it deep years ago, under layers of plans and responsibility and doing everything right for Maddy. Hope was dangerous. Hope led to heartbreak.
And yet Dasher had stood beside her tonight like he belonged there. Like he wanted to be there. He hadn’t tried to win her over with grand apologies or dramatic speeches. He’d just shown up. Helped. Listened. And looked at her like he remembered exactly what it had been like to love her.
Ellie took a sip of her lukewarm tea and stared at the twinkling lights. The wind howled outside, but inside, everything was still.
She told herself it was nothing. That the almost-kiss was just nostalgia, mixed with exhaustion and soft lighting.
That they were working together for the kids, for the toy drive, for the town.
That she was tired and sentimental and a little overwhelmed.
But deep down, where her heart still carried the shape of him, she wasn’t so sure.
She reached over and pulled the small knit penguin Maddy had left on the couch onto her lap. Its little yarn beak was slightly crooked.
“I’m not doing this again,” she whispered to the quiet.
The penguin didn’t answer. Ellie smiled despite herself and rested her chin on her knees. Maybe Dasher had changed. Maybe he hadn’t. But one almost-kiss wasn’t enough to shake the life she’d built. She had Maddy. She had a home. She had plans and systems and lists that kept her world turning.
Still ...when she finally turned off the lights and climbed into bed, Ellie let herself remember what it had felt like.
The brush of Dasher’s fingertips when he passed her the string of lights, the glint in his eyes when he teased her, the hush in the room when he’d leaned just a little too close.
And the look on his face when she’d said tomorrow.
Tomorrow was a promise. She wasn’t ready to make any.