Chapter 10
REESE
Pookie’s squeak toy barking cuts through the lobby like a fire alarm and the chaos escalates from curious murmuring to full bedlam in about three seconds as I take charge.
“Everyone, please remain calm!” I call out while instructing Corbin to organize search parties.
Meanwhile, Noella’s Mrs. Claus Christmas Day outfit jingles frantically as she rushes around the tree, searching the floor as she describes the star in detail.
Hollis takes the perimeter.
I move into investigator mode, circling the massive tree with Rebecca right beside me. Other guests join in, peering under furniture and behind garlands.
“No glass on the floor,” I observe, crouching down. “If it fell and shattered, there’d be pieces everywhere.”
Rebecca kneels beside me, and I catch that chocolate scent that’s been driving me crazy for two days. “There are a few ornaments on the ground, but they’re not broken either.”
I pick up a red glass ball, examining it. “These look like they were knocked loose, not removed.”
“So someone took it?” asks an older gentleman in a reindeer sweater.
“Or it fell somewhere else,” Rebecca suggests.
A woman with a baby on her hip says, “Maybe someone moved it for cleaning?”
Noella wrings her hands and distress crimps her features. “That star has been with Timber’s Edge since our very first Christmas. It’s irreplaceable.”
She gathers everyone around, and her voice takes on the quality of someone telling a story around a campfire.
“When we opened this inn thirty years ago, we wanted a symbol of hope. Something to guide weary travelers home, like the star guided the wise men to Bethlehem. That star has watched over every Christmas since, every family who’s found their way here through storms and difficult times, where we do our best to give them a reason to celebrate. ”
The star isn’t solely a decoration—it’s a legacy.
“We have to find it,” Rebecca says with a determined glint in her eye. It’s the same one she had during the candy cane hunt.
Hollis pulls up outside the main doors with a golf cart. Noella continues to fret and they confer in low tones.
I offer, “I can drive around the property. Maybe it was somehow brought outside?” It’s a long shot, but better to cover all the ground we can before it gets dark.
“I’m coming with you,” Rebecca says. “And Pookie,”
The pug barks, which she interprets as enthusiasm.
The two of us pile into the golf cart—three if you count Pookie, who Rebecca tucks into her jacket. I gun it, and we’re off like a modern-day sleigh ride, bouncing over the shoveled paths around the lodge property.
“Check by the loading dock!” Rebecca calls.
We search everywhere—behind the maintenance shed, around the dumpsters (glamorous, I know), under the pavilion, and near the outdoor fire pit.
Corbin and other guests who aren’t combing the interior of the building join the search, spreading out across the property like we’re on an extreme scavenger hunt.
The golf cart winds past the frozen pond and around the back trails. We check every possible place the star could have gone, unless it’s lost in a snow ditch like Rebecca’s phone.
“This is snow much fun!” she hoots.
Despite everything, I grin.
An hour later, we’ve come up empty-handed and return to the lobby, eager to warm up.
Noella is behind the desk and speaks animatedly, if not a little irritatedly, into the phone.
“Yes. I understand. We are also dealing with a crisis. Oh, here she is. Miss Rivers, there is a call for you.”
Rebecca, rosy-cheeked from our joy ride, pales.
It’s Ms. Lilith, Noella mouths.
“You don’t have to answer,” I say.
But she does. She always was going to.
“Hello?” Her voice is steady, but her hand trembles. “No, I’m not back in Los Angeles. I’m—” She pauses, listening, and her expression shifts from nervous to angry. “That’s not fair. You knew I wanted to spend Christmas with my family.”
Noella asks me how our search went and I give her the bad news. However, I can hardly focus because Rebecca sounds so upset.
“Legal action? Are you serious?” Her voice pitches higher. “I’ve given you everything! Every interview, every appearance, every manufactured relationship for publicity—”
She stops, listening again, and she drops like a past-season poinsettia.
“I understand,” she says quietly. “I’ll think about it.”
She hangs up and stares blankly at the phone in her hand.
“Becca?”
“They’re threatening to sue me if I don’t fulfill my contract. The New Year’s concert, the spring tour, all of it.” She looks up at me, and I see a desperate, trapped animal expression in her eyes. “Lilith said if I don’t comply, she’ll make sure I never work in the industry again.”
My jaw tightens. “She can’t do that.”
“She can make it very difficult.” Rebecca’s shoulders slump. “Maybe I was kidding myself. Maybe this—” she gestures to me, at the festive lodge and likely at everything that has grown between us over the past two days “—was just a fantasy. A break from reality.”
“Or maybe it’s the reality you actually want,” I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I feel like I’ve overstepped.
Time to pull back. Protect myself. As a firefighter, I’m no good to anyone who needs help if I don’t first have my gear squared away, take precautions, and make sure I’m equipped to deal with dangerous situations.
I’m not dealing with anything flammable other than emotions, but they ought to be treated with the same care.
Because of course she’s going back. She’s Rebecca Rios, pop star. And I’m just a small town firefighter.
We resume the search in strained silence.
We pass some kids who’re riding around on a mini choo-choo train around yet another Christmas tree on the eastern side of the lodge.
At the sound of their gleeful laughter, I try to lighten the mood.
“Brady must be so relieved about Ruthie. When he called me to check on you, he mentioned things are looking up with the new treatment.”
Rebecca freezes. “What new treatment?”
Oh no.
“I thought you knew. Maybe he was going to tell you in person. I’m sorry, Becca.”
Her face crumbles. “What treatment, Reese?”
“I don’t know the details. Only that she’d taken a turn a few months ago, but they found a new treatment that’s showing promise.” I reach for her hand, but she pulls away.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” Her voice cracks.
“He probably didn’t want to worry you. You’ve been so—”
“Busy.” She laughs, but it lacks humor. “I’ve been too busy for my own niece. Too wrapped up in photo shoots, recording sessions, and fake charity events to know that Ruthie was struggling. That my brother needed me.”
“Becca, that’s not—”
“It is.” Tears stream down her cheeks. “Don’t you see? I’ve become exactly who I never wanted to be. So consumed by this career that I’ve lost track of what actually matters. Brady didn’t tell me because he knew I was unreachable. Not physically, but emotionally.”
Pookie whimpers and nuzzles into Rebecca’s borrowed jacket.
“I’ve missed everything,” she whispers. “First steps, school plays, doctor’s appointments. I send gifts and make video calls when I can, but I’m not there. I’m never there.”
I want to comfort her, but there’s a wall between us now. Built by reality, by the life she has to return to, by the fact that I’m falling for someone who belongs to a world I can’t compete with.
“We should keep searching.” My voice is rough.
But I know we’re not just searching for a star anymore.
We’re both trying to figure out what happens when Christmas ends and the real world comes crashing back in.