Chapter Seventeen
Jacob
It was officially Day Eight of my Christmas countdown mission, and everything had been smooth sailing so far.
Mr. Adam was just as proud, and maybe even as excited as I was.
When I visited him a few days ago, he’d mentioned noticing a change in his daughter.
He’d noticed how she seemed lighter, happier, more at ease.
He gave me credit for that, and while I wouldn’t take all of it, I was grateful to be part of the reason behind her new glow.
From the playful, totally planned snowball fight to the gingerbread house-making chaos, the crafts, and every little moment in between, I’d been lacing Amariah’s days with pieces of every Christmas memory we’d ever shared.
Each day, I found some new way to tap into her heart bank and make a Jacob deposit, and I couldn’t wait to cash in that check.
She still held back sometimes, but I could feel the walls lowering brick by brick.
It was in the way her gaze lingered on me during quiet moments, in how she didn’t pull away when we touched, and in the ease of our conversations that once were impossible.
I wasn’t just revitalizing an old friendship; I was solidifying feelings that we’d avoided expressing in the past. Every day, I was falling harder, and I wanted to believe she was, too.
By Christmas Day, I was hoping for the only gift that mattered—the chance to finally call Amariah Luke mine.
The bell of Luke’s Hardware entrance chimed, and before I even looked up, I knew it was her.
No one else walked with that same rhythm.
Her stride was steady and exuded confidence, like she owned every place she entered without trying.
Amariah brushed a few snowflakes from her wavy hair and smiled at me over the counter.
That smile…it felt like a warm blanket on a chilly winter morning.
“Morning, boss,” she teased, her voice lilting in that familiar way that had gotten under my skin since high school.
I tried to play it cool, slicing open another box with my pocketknife. “You’re early.”
“I could say the same. What’s all this?” she asked, eyeing the stack of unopened shipments.
“Christmas came early,” I said with a grin.
She crossed her arms. “You didn’t order more wrenches again, did you?”
I chuckled. “One slip on the inventory list, and a brother can never live it down.” I shook my head. “No worries. This shipment is special.”
Her curious stare stayed fixed on me as I tore into the box.
Inside, rows of snow globes gleamed through their crystal-clear glass casings.
Some of them held tiny cottages, others with little carolers, angels, and snowy trees.
I’d spent all day picking them out a week ago, hoping they’d bring some cheer into the store.
But there was one globe in particular that had nothing to do with business.
Amariah had come over and leaned against the counter, her eyes wide. “Jacob…they’re beautiful.”
“You like them?” I asked, feigning casual, though her reaction was exactly what I’d hoped to see. “I was thinking we could add these to sell along with the other holiday decorations we’ve ordered for the store.”
“They’re perfect. You’re really starting to embrace the holiday, you know that?”
“I sure am, and it’s not with the Grinch theme,” I joked.
She grinned, shaking her head at me before she walked to the other side of the counter and picked up a smaller box sitting off to the side, wrapped neatly with gold ribbon. “What’s this?” she asked curiously.
“Actually, this one’s not for the store.”
Her brow arched, her eyes squinting with suspicion. “Jacob, what did you do?”
“Just open it,” I said.
She peeled back the wrapping carefully, as if it were sacred.
When she lifted the lid, her breath caught.
Inside sat a snow globe I’d had custom-made.
It was a little ice rink with two tiny skaters gliding beneath a canopy of lights.
Her name was engraved on the gold-plated ribbon in the front.
She gently ran her fingers across the engraving, then wound the base.
When the first few notes of “White Christmas” began to play, her entire face lit up.
The way she looked at it was worth the late night I’d spent arranging it.
“You remembered,” she whispered.
“Of course I did,” I said softly. “You used to hum that song every time we skated. Just wanted to gift you something to remind you of Christmas in Skye Ridge.” I chose the safe option when I wanted to declare it was to remind her of us.
Her eyes glistened, but she blinked fast, trapping the tears before they fell. Clearing her throat, she turned a thankful gaze to me. “It’s perfect.”
Those words. They meant more to me than I could fully express at this time. It felt as if it was the start of something good between us that had been waiting to thaw.
Then a bright and mischievous look crossed her face. “Close up the store.”
This time, it was me who was caught off guard. I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Close up. We’re going ice skating.”
“Skipping out on work? Okay, what have you done with the real Amariah Luke?”
She crinkled her nose. “Ha! Very funny. Taking a break never hurts,” she sassed. “Besides, someone very important to me told me that I was on paid leave, and I’m thinking it’s about time I acted like it.”
“But it’s the middle of the workday.” I wagged my finger in warning.
“Exactly. That means it’s the perfect time because the rink won’t be crowded,” she pleaded her case. “Come on, you can’t hand me one of the best memorable gifts ever and expect me not to travel back down memory lane.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic. Besides, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do when she looked at me like that.
“Fine,” I said, flipping the sign on the door to Closed. “But if I fall, you’re responsible.”
“No problem,” she scoffed. “Didn’t I always have your back?”
Nodding, I nibbled on my bottom lip, considering her question. “Yeah, always.”
She winked at me. “Then, let’s go.”
Outside, the snow was falling steadily with big, slow flakes that turned Main Street into a picture on a Christmas card.
The town square was in full festive mode with wreaths and ribbons displayed up and down the streets.
The faint sound of music drifted through the air, and of all songs, “White Christmas” played through the speakers at the rink.
We laced up our skates by the rail. Amariah laughed as I stumbled getting onto the ice, just like I used to. Some things never changed.
“Ready?” she asked, holding out her hand.
I took it, steadying myself. Her fingers were warm, her touch sure. “I’ll try not to bring you down with me.”
She smiled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
We glided onto the rink, moving in easy circles.
Every spin, every stumble felt like slipping into an old dream, except this time, I didn’t want to wake from it.
When the song reached its final verse, she looked up at me, and for the first time, the girl I’d fallen for and the woman I couldn’t stop imagining a future with seemed to collide into one.
Despite the years apart, despite everything between us, this woman had my heart.
Always had. Always would. Her head tilted upward, mine downward.
Our lips met soft and unsure at first, then certain and searching.
As snow drifted around us, one truth became crystal clear: This wasn’t just nostalgia.
It was the start of something new, something real.
And I didn’t intend to hold back this time.