Chapter Five
Dasher stood on Ellie’s front porch, a cardboard drink tray balanced in one hand and a paper bag of still-warm pastries in the other. The December wind tugged at his coat, but he didn’t move to ring the doorbell just yet.
He wasn’t stalling. Okay, maybe he was. It was early. Not too early, just past eight, but early enough that his breath fogged in the air, and quiet still blanketed the street.
Everything looked soft with snow, the lawn glittering with frost, the neighborhood hushed in that familiar, peaceful way mornings got in Sugar Falls before the world stirred.
He stared at the door for another beat.
He hadn’t planned this. Not exactly. He’d told himself last night that he’d give her space after what almost happened.
After what he almost did. But the truth was, he hadn’t slept.
All night, the memory of her eyes looking up at him, the way she’d leaned just a fraction closer, had played on a loop in his head.
The unspoken what if haunted him more than anything she could’ve said.
So here he was. Showing up like an idiot with coffee and cinnamon rolls from Gilly’s, hoping it didn’t make him look desperate. Or worse, like he was trying too hard.
He knocked once, then again after a few seconds. The door opened a crack.
“Dasher?” Ellie’s voice was soft, surprised. She pulled the door open a little more, revealing that familiar pink fleece robe and a messy topknot he remembered from a lifetime ago.
He felt a ridiculous rush of something warm in his chest.
“I brought reinforcements,” he said, lifting the coffee tray in a mock toast. “Thought you might need them after last night.”
Her mouth curved, just slightly. “You always did know how to bribe me.”
“And you always fell for it,” he added.
She rolled her eyes but opened the door wider. “Get in here before you freeze.”
He stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around him instantly. The scent of pine and sugar lingered in the air, along with something distinctly Ellie—vanilla and clean laundry and faint citrus from the hand soap she always liked.
“Kitchen?” he asked, already moving toward it. She followed, closing the door behind them.
Maddy wasn’t in sight, but there was a bowl of half-eaten cereal on the table, and a pink unicorn slipper peeking out from under the couch. Evidence of a tiny whirlwind always present.
“She’s brushing her teeth,” Ellie offered. “You might get roped into helping with a braid. Just a warning.”
Dasher snorted. “I’ve braided cables and fixed spark plugs in snowstorms. I think I can handle a five-year-old’s hair.”
Ellie arched a brow. “She’s six. And good luck. She has opinions.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” he pointed out.
She really laughed at that and Dasher felt that stupid warmth expand.
They sat at the kitchen table, steam rising from the coffee cups. He handed her a pastry, and for a while, they didn’t say much. Just ate. Just existed in the same room. It was nice, but the quiet between them had weight. The kind that came from unfinished sentences. Almosts. Memories.
“So,” she said finally, brushing crumbs from her lap. “I might need your help.”
Dasher blinked, startled. “With what?”
“There’s a wholesaler about an hour out of town,” she said, reaching for her planner from the side counter.
She flipped to a flagged page, then turned it toward him.
“One of the businesses that usually donates toys had to back out last-minute. I managed to get a good deal on clearance inventory, but I need to pick it up before they move it to storage next week.”
He looked at the page. Her tidy handwriting. Her checkboxes. Her highlighted priorities.
“You want me to drive you?” he asked.
“I need someone with a truck,” she said, lips twitching. “And someone who won’t let me overspend on glitter glue and tiny plush penguins.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Are you saying I have restraint?”
“I’m saying you’re mildly intimidating and surprisingly budget-conscious.”
He grinned. “You do remember me.”
She shook her head, but her eyes were soft. “So, will you come?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I’m in,” he said.
A small silence followed. The kind that danced on the edge of the almost from last night.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come by today,” Ellie said, almost absently. She took a sip of coffee, not quite meeting his eyes.
Dasher cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure either.”
“But here you are.”
“Yeah.” He looked down at his cup, then back at her. “Ellie, about last night...”
She looked at him now, really looked. But she didn’t say anything. Just waited.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “I know we’ve got history, and I don’t want to mess up what we’re doing with the toy drive. Or ... whatever this is.”
She didn’t answer right away. Then, finally, she said, “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”
Hope flickered in his chest. “No?”
“I was surprised. That’s all.”
He leaned forward, arms braced on the table. “Surprised in a bad way?”
“No,” she said softly. “Just ... surprised.”
They sat in the quiet again, only this time it didn’t feel quite so heavy.
A sudden patter of footsteps broke the moment. Maddy barreled into the room in a flurry of rainbow pajamas and damp curls. “Mr. Dasher!”
He turned just in time to catch her before she could leap fully onto his lap. “Hey there, penguin. You brushing your teeth or running a marathon?”
She giggled and squirmed her way onto the chair beside him. “Mom said you brought cinnamon rolls.”
“I did. You get half. I already claimed dibs on the gooey middle part,” he said.
She gasped, scandalized. “That’s the best part!”
Ellie laughed and reached for a fresh napkin. “He’s kidding, sweetheart. I’ll split mine with you.”
“I like him,” Maddy declared solemnly, reaching for her own roll. “He’s funny.”
Dasher winked. “Your mom didn’t always think so.”
“She’s not always right,” Maddy said with the clarity of a kid who hadn’t yet learned tact.
Ellie choked on her coffee.
Dasher just laughed, the tension easing from his chest. For a minute, the three of them ate like it was normal. Like this was just a Sunday morning with cinnamon rolls and laughter and warmth. Like he hadn’t spent the last several years haunted by what he left behind.
When Ellie got up to refill their mugs, Maddy leaned closer and whispered, “Are you gonna come again tomorrow?”
Dasher glanced toward the kitchen where Ellie was humming under her breath. “I think I just might.”
“Good,” Maddy said, satisfied. “You make her smile.”
He swallowed hard. “Yeah? She makes me smile too.”
****
The snow started just outside of Hollow Ridge. At first, it was beautiful. Fat, lazy flakes swirling past the windshield like something out of a movie. Ellie had even cracked a joke about snow globes and cinnamon spice commercials. But an hour later, the joke wasn’t funny anymore.
“I can’t see the road,” she muttered, squinting through the windshield. “Are we even on the road?”
Dasher leaned forward, wipers going at full tilt. His jaw was tight, his hands firm on the steering wheel.
“Yeah. Barely. The turnoff should be a few more miles.”
The wind howled, a solid white wall pressing against the truck. Ellie gripped the door handle, adrenaline humming in her veins. Beside her, Dasher was all tension and silent concentration.
The weather had turned fast. What was supposed to be a quick two-hour drive for discount toys was quickly turning into a survival expedition. They didn’t make it to the wholesaler.
Instead, they followed a snow-packed detour up a barely plowed service road and found refuge in an old cabin tucked behind a row of trees. A leftover from the MC’s wilder days, Dasher explained as he parked in the drift-covered driveway.
It looked abandoned, but the roof was solid and the door unlocked. Inside was cold, but dry. The furniture was dusty but intact. A fireplace, old but functional, took up most of the far wall.
Ellie stepped inside, her boots crunching against the floorboards.
“Well,” she said, rubbing her arms, “it’s not exactly the Ritz.”
Dasher looked around, snow melting on his shoulders. “But it’s shelter,” he pointed out.
She turned, shivering despite the layers. “How do you even know about this place?”
“Used to come here when I needed to think,” he said, shrugging off his jacket. “Long time ago. We called it the Outpost.”
She watched him shake the snow from his hair, his jaw dark with stubble, his shoulders broad under that flannel he always seemed to wear like second skin. Something in her twisted.
They hadn’t had a real conversation since the toy run began, just casual small talk and road trip music. She’d kept it light on purpose. The almost-kiss still lived in the back of her mind, haunting every shared glance and brush of hands.
Now they were trapped together, miles from town, with no cell signal, no heat, and one creaky, dust-covered bed pushed up against the wall. Fantastic.
Dasher built a fire from the kindling in the bin, and Ellie stood near it, arms wrapped tight across her chest. The silence between them stretched long and taut. Outside, the storm raged. Inside, tension gathered like static.
“We’re gonna be here a while,” he said, his voice low. “Blizzard warning’s in effect ‘till morning.”
She nodded, throat dry. “Great,” Ellie said.
He glanced toward the back room. “There’s only one bed.”
She tried to laugh. “Of course there is.”
He didn’t smile. “You can take it. I’ll sleep on the floor,” Dasher offered.
Ellie looked at him then, really looked at the man who had once been her whole world, who’d left without a word, who’d come back and turned her quiet life upside down all over again.
Something cracked open inside her.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t act like we’re strangers.”
He flinched. “I’m not.”
“But you left me,” she said, her voice trembling now. “You walked away and never looked back. Do you know what that did to me?”
Dasher stepped closer, his expression raw. “You think I didn’t look back, Ellie? You think I haven’t thought about you every damn day since?”
Her heart pounded in her chest. “Then why didn’t you come home?”
“Because I was broken,” he said hoarsely. “Because I thought you deserved better. Because I didn’t think I could come back, not after what I did. Not after walking away from you.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I would’ve forgiven you,” Ellie admitted.
“I couldn’t forgive myself.”
The fire crackled behind them. The air between them went hot and tight.
“I never stopped loving you,” Ellie whispered.
Dasher exhaled like he’d been punched in the gut. “Say that again.”
“I never stopped loving you,” she said, firmer now. “Not for one second.”
He was in front of her in a heartbeat. His hands found her waist, tentative, almost reverent. “God, Ellie...”
And then his mouth was on hers. There was no hesitation this time. No restraint. Just years of longing pouring out in one desperate, claiming kiss.
Ellie clung to him, fingers fisting in his flannel. She kissed him like she was making up for every lost year, every unsent letter, every silent night she’d lain awake wishing he was beside her. He tasted like heat and memory and something achingly familiar.
Dasher kissed her like he’d been starving. When he pulled back, it was only to whisper against her lips, “Tell me this isn’t a mistake.”
“It’s not,” Ellie whispered.
“Tell me you want me,” Dasher demanded.
“I never stopped,” she admitted.
He kissed her again, slower this time, deeper. One hand tangled in her hair, the other sliding to the small of her back.
The storm outside vanished. The years between them faded.
They stumbled toward the bed in a tangle of mouths and breath and clumsy urgency. Ellie yanked his flannel shirt free, hands tracing the scarred heat of his chest. He undressed her with care, peeling off her layers like she was something precious.
When they finally fell into bed, skin to skin, her breath caught.
“You’re still the only one who’s ever known how to touch me,” she whispered.
Dasher kissed a trail down her throat. “I never forgot.”
Their bodies fit like puzzle pieces, like they’d been made for this moment.
Dasher rolled on top of her, plundering her mouth.
She gave in, sucking down on his tongue.
He left more kisses down her neck, the hollow of her throat.
When he reached her nipples, they tightened to pebbles.
She cried out when he took one into his mouth and sucked, but she only sunk her fingers into his hair, encouraging him.
Dasher took his time, worshipping the line of her body. When he reached the crevice between her legs, she arched under him, digging her fingers into his back, his name falling from her lips in a gasp.
He licked and sucked her pussy, circling his tongue around her sensitive clit until Ellie cried out. She came against the heat of his mouth, moaning as he licked her clean like a cat with his cream.
“Dasher, I want you in me,” she whispered.
“Baby, I want that too,” he said. He got off her a second, before pulling out a condom from the pocket of his jeans. Then he straddled her again, lifting her legs over his broad shoulders.
He slipped the condom on, then entered her. She groaned, aware of the size of him, remembering how good he felt inside her. Dasher took his time, making her feel every inch. Finally, he was balls-deep inside her. Needing something to hold onto, Ellie gripped the bars behind her.
He moved slow at first, reverent, like he was trying to memorize every sound she made, every shiver of her skin. Unable to take it anymore, Ellie begged him to go faster and he did.
They made love with the kind of hunger that came from grief and hope and years of aching silence. No games. No pretending. Just two people finally finding their way back to each other. Each time he entered her, it felt like a piece of his soul drifted to touch hers.
He drew his dick out and when he pushed back in, he tried a different angle and found her sweet spot.
Ellie gasped, arching her back as he aimed for the spot over and over again until the pressure building inside her broke.
She came all over his dick. He pumped several more times inside her, before climaxing.
Dasher pulled out, disposing of the condom before returning to her. In bed again, he held her close, their legs tangled beneath the blanket, her head on his chest.
“I don’t deserve this,” he murmured against her hair.
She pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “You don’t get to decide that. I do.”
He tightened his hold. “I was so lost without you,” he admitted.
“You’re home now,” she whispered. “That’s what matters.”
Outside, the wind howled and the snow fell, but inside the little cabin, Ellie finally let herself believe what she’d tried to deny for years. That sometimes, even broken things could be made whole again.