Chapter 7
SEVEN
DAHLIA
The second Molly’s announcement stops the avalanche of questions and squeals and overly enthusiastic hugs, I slip outside for air.
The cabin door clicks shut behind me, muffling the noise. Snow crunches softly under my boots. The storm passed, leaving everything bright and quiet and reflecting the glow of the porch lights.
My heart is still racing from dinner — from the chaos, from the reveal, from the way Cyrus didn’t even hesitate to put himself between me and everyone’s questions.
From the way he looked at me like he already chose a side, and it was mine.
I wrap my arms around myself and breathe in the cold air.
Behind me, the door opens.
Cyrus steps out carrying a ladder and a tangled mess of lights like he’s preparing for round two.
“You’re decorating,” I say, even though the evidence is right there.
“Yeah.” He leans the ladder against the porch, unwinds the lights with a focus that tells me he needs busy hands. “Figured if the whole clan is staying for dessert, I should make the outside look less… bleak.”
“Cyrus.”
He pauses but doesn’t turn.
“Come on,” I say softly. “You don’t have to pretend nothing happened.”
He exhales, long and slow, then finally looks back at me.
The porch light catches on the line of his jaw, the mess of his hair, the storm-soft exhaustion and something warmer in his eyes.
“I’m not pretending,” he says. “Not anymore.”
I step closer. “You sure?”
He nods once. “I meant what I said last night. And this morning. And at dinner when I didn’t throw Blake into a snowbank even though I wanted to.”
“He deserved it.”
“Absolutely.”
I let out a shaky laugh.
“Cyrus… everything tonight got messy. And loud. And somehow emotional in ways it wasn’t supposed to be. But I keep thinking about earlier. And last night. And the fact that we both spent months believing the other one didn’t care.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “We both screwed that up.”
“But we’re here now.”
He watches me like he’s memorizing something important. “Yeah. We are.”
I reach for the strand of lights in his hand and gently tug him closer. “So what do we do with that?”
He swallows, throat working. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
I step into his space, close enough that our breath mingles in the cold air. “I came home because Molly needed me. But also… because I didn’t know where else I belonged anymore. And tonight I kept looking at you and thinking… maybe I’m not as lost as I thought.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then back up. “You’re not lost.”
“No?”
“I’ve got you.”
My breath catches. The words settle somewhere deep and warm and terrifying in the best way.
“Say it again,” I whisper.
He steps closer until our chests nearly touch, his voice low and steady. “You’ve got me, Dahlia.”
I don’t even try to stop myself. I lean in, kissing him softly at first, like I’m trying to relearn something we didn’t actually forget. Then he cups the back of my neck and pulls me deeper, the kiss turning slow and hungry and sure.
Snowflakes catch in my hair. Lights twinkle above us. Somewhere inside, the family cheers something loud and chaotic.
But out here?
It’s just us.
When we finally break apart, he presses his forehead to mine.
“I carved that ornament the day after the wedding,” he murmurs. “I kept it because I couldn’t throw it away. I didn’t want to.”
My throat tightens. “You made one for last night?”
“I will.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “If you want that.”
I don’t hesitate. “I do.”
His smile is quiet and devastating.
And when he kisses me again, everything is finally, finally clicking into place.
Minutes—lots of them—later, the door to the cabin swings open behind us, and Molly’s voice carries out into the cold.
“Dahlia? Cyrus? Are you two—oh.”
She stops on the threshold, taking one look at how close we are, how breathless I probably look, how Cyrus’s hand is still warm on the back of my neck.
Her smile stretches slow and satisfied.
“I knew it.”
Cyrus doesn’t even try to step away.
Instead, he slides his hand down to lace his fingers through mine.
That simple gesture makes my heart pull tight.
Molly beams and waves us in. “Everyone’s asking where you disappeared to. And by everyone, I mostly mean Angela and Heidi being nosy, but come on.”
Inside, the cabin is loud in the best holiday way—laughing voices, clinking dishes, the fire snapping.
Angela spots us first. “There they are! Took you long enough.”
She elbows Heidi, who just smirks knowingly. “Called it.”
Bradley appears behind Molly, arms crossed, grin smug. “Told you they’d figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” Cyrus asks flatly.
“That you’re disgustingly into each other,” Heidi supplies cheerfully.
My cheeks flush. Cyrus squeezes my hand once, subtle but real.
The room shifts and widens as more familiar faces join in:
Angela hugs me so hard my ribs click. Wade stands behind her, one hand on her hip, one eyebrow lifted at Cyrus.
“You treat her right,” Wade says.
Cyrus snorts. “I’m trying.”
“That’s good enough for now,” Wade replies.
Heidi leans against Seth, her head resting on his shoulder. “I knew you were one of us,” she says to me. “Give a woman a holiday deadline and a rugged man and romance will happen.”
Seth kisses the top of her head. “It really does keep happening.”
Molly loops an arm around me, her fatigue softened by pure joy, her other hand resting over the place she’s still keeping a secret.
“I’m really glad you came home,” she whispers.
I swallow. “Me too.”
Bradley nudges Cyrus. “Welcome to the family, man.”
Cyrus mutters something that sounds like a threat but is absolutely a thank-you.
Someone hands out mugs of hot chocolate—Bradley, by the look of it—and suddenly the whole room seems warmer. Fuller. Like a moment we’ll remember years from now.
The four couples—six friends, one new love, one secret early pregnancy—settle around the fireplace. The tree lights glow softly. Snow taps the windows.
It feels like a movie ending, except better, because I’m in it.
Cyrus leans close, his voice quiet so only I hear. “You don’t look lost anymore.”
“I’m not,” I say. “Not when I’m here.”
His thumb brushes my knuckles. “Good.”
Across the room, Molly catches my eye and mouths, I told you.
I laugh under my breath.
Cyrus asks, “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, resting my head lightly on his shoulder. “Everything.”
He shifts just enough to kiss the top of my hair.
And even with all the noise—Wade teasing Seth, Heidi recounting a mishap from their camping trip, Angela passing cookies around, Molly glowing beside Bradley—I feel centered. Like something inside me finally clicked.
This isn’t just Molly’s home. Or our parents’ home. Or the town I ran from because I didn’t know how to fit.
It’s mine now. It’s ours.
Cyrus squeezes my hand again, grounding and reassuring all at once.
“Merry Kiss-mas, baby,” he murmurs one more time.
And surrounded by every story that led me here, I know it in my bones.
This is exactly where I’m meant to be.