Chapter Ten
One Year Later
Snow drifted past the cottage windows in lazy spirals, blanketing the backyard in white.
The world outside was silent and still, just the way Ellie liked it.
She leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching Dasher with thinly veiled amusement as he wrestled with a lump of cinnamon-roll dough.
“You sure you don’t want help?” she asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing.
Dasher scowled at the sticky mess clinging to his fingers. “I’m following the instructions. Mostly.”
“You were supposed to let it rise,” she said, stepping closer to point at the mixing bowl beside him. “In the bowl. Covered. Not smash it into submission like it insulted your bike.”
He shot her a sideways look, a smudge of flour streaking his cheek. “It stuck to my fingers. I panicked.”
Ellie snorted. “You faced down a gang of toy-thieving bikers last year and now you’re losing a fight to cinnamon-roll dough?”
Dasher set the dough down with exaggerated care and wiped his hands on the dish towel. The red flannel shirt he wore was the same one she’d gotten him last Christmas. It clung to his shoulders and hinted at the ink on his forearms every time he moved.
He looked up, caught her staring, and smirked. “You checking me out or judging my baking skills?” Dasher asked.
“Both,” she said, stepping into his space. “But mostly the first one.”
Dasher dipped his head, brushing his nose against hers. “I’m better at kissing than baking.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
They kissed slowly, warm and familiar, but still with a spark that tugged low in her belly. She curled her fingers into his shirt, breathing him in. The last year had changed them both, but in all the right ways.
They’d found a rhythm, one that worked even through the chaos of toy drives and daycare runs and unexpected moments like this, with just the two of them, snow falling, the oven warming the kitchen.
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “You put mistletoe above the doorway.”
She tilted her head. “I did.”
“Was that for me?”
Ellie grinned. “Obviously.”
Dasher leaned in again, pressing another kiss to her lips. It was slower this time, more deliberate. He slid his hand around her waist, tugging her closer until she could feel the solid line of his body against hers.
“I like this tradition,” he murmured, voice low.
“Stealing kisses or ruining my dough?” Ellie asked.
“Both. Though I swear the recipe lied.”
“It didn’t lie. You just didn’t read it,” she pointed out.
He groaned. “Details.”
Ellie laughed, burying her face in his chest. He was warm and solid, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. She could’ve stayed like that forever, wrapped in flannel and him.
They eventually broke apart when the oven beeped, and Ellie gently nudged him aside to salvage what was left of the dough.
Dasher hovered near the counter like a particularly large and broody sous-chef, sneaking bits of brown sugar and trying to distract her by trailing kisses along her neck while she worked.
“Dasher,” she warned, voice breathy.
“What?” he said, mouth brushing her jaw. “I’m just supervising.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m moral support,” Dasher said.
She twisted around to swat at him with the spatula, but he caught her hand easily and kissed her knuckles. Her breath hitched. Even after all this time, he could still do that. Melt her with a look, a touch.
She placed the pan of rolls into the oven and turned to find him watching her with something warm and quiet in his eyes.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“I was thinking how lucky I am,” he said, voice rougher than before. “That you gave me another chance. That I get to wake up here. With you. With Maddy.”
Ellie softened. She crossed the kitchen and slid her arms around his waist. “You’re part of our lives now. You always were, even when you weren’t here,” she said.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “I didn’t think I could have this. Not after everything.”
“You do,” she whispered. “We do. And you’re not screwing it up.”
He nodded, jaw tight like he was holding back emotion. “Sometimes I worry I will.”
Ellie leaned up and kissed him, soft and reassuring. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”
They sat at the kitchen table while the rolls baked, sipping coffee in the cozy hush of the morning. The tree in the corner of the living room blinked with colored lights. A paper snowflake garland Maddy had made dangled crookedly from the window. Everything felt full and quiet and whole.
Dasher reached out and took her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You ever think about making this a real tradition?”
Ellie blinked. “You mean cinnamon rolls on snow days?”
He gave her a look.
She smiled. “You mean us.”
“I mean being here. Every year. Waking up beside you. Helping Maddy hang glittery ornaments. Ruining your recipes.”
Ellie’s chest warmed. “I think about it all the time.”
He hesitated, like he wanted to say more. Then he reached into his flannel’s chest pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Her breath caught.
“It’s not a proposal,” he said quickly. “I mean, not yet. I want to do that right, when you’re ready. But I wanted you to have this.” He opened the box to reveal a simple gold pendant shaped like a crescent moon, etched with three tiny stars.
“For you,” he said. “One for you. One for me. One for Maddy.”
Ellie’s throat tightened. She took the necklace gently, the metal warm from his pocket. “It’s beautiful.”
“I wanted something that said I’m here. For good.”
She stood, moved around the table, and kissed him. “Then I’ll wear it every day.”
Later, they pulled the cinnamon rolls from the oven.
They were misshapen and a little underbaked in the middle, but filled with butter and cinnamon and sugar.
Dasher declared them a triumph. Ellie declared them edible.
Maddy, who’d woken up at the smell, declared them amazing and promptly got icing all over her face.
The three of them curled up on the couch after breakfast, blankets over laps, cartoons playing low on the TV. Snow continued to fall outside, but inside the cottage, it was warm and filled with the smell of cinnamon and laughter.
As Ellie leaned into Dasher’s side, his arm around her, Maddy nestled between them with sticky fingers and a stuffed reindeer, she realized they weren’t just building new traditions. They’d built a home and this time, it was built to last.
The End
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