Chapter 22
Penn
With unease weaving its way through my blood, I step back into the living room, the glow from the big screen pulling everyone in.
The guys are glued to the hockey game, their shouts rising and falling with every play.
Jaxon leaps to his feet, hands tugging at his hair as he screams at one of the players like the guy can hear him through the TV.
My gaze drifts from their rowdy energy to the mantel above the fireplace.
Two peppermint stockings hang there, side by side.
Penn. Jaylynn. The careful stitching catches in the firelight, and something inside me squeezes tight.
Jaylynn did this. For me. She didn’t make a big deal out of it.
She just quietly hung it there. I’ve never had a stocking.
Not one with my name. This…this gesture is her quiet way of making me a part of something bigger, something important, something I never knew I always needed.
It’s so goddamn touching that my chest aches in ways I can’t even name.
I clear my throat during a lull in the game, trying to steady myself. “I’m going to take off.”
Will glances over, and I try, unsuccessfully, to mask my upset. He sets his beer down and stands. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly, too quickly, scrambling for casual. “Jaylynn is in Rutledge. Flat tire. She called Triple A. I’m sure she’s already on her way back.”
Will’s brow slams together. “Damn.”
“I offered to go, but…” My words tangle. “She’s with Dylan.”
That pulls Jaxon’s attention. His head turns, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
I rush to fill the silence. “He just happened to be in town. They ran into each other. Had coffee. He’s staying with her until the tow comes. I’m sure she’s fine.” I force a laugh that feels like gravel in my throat. “I’ll just head back to the inn, wait for her there.”
“Want me to drive you?” Jaxon offers.
I shake my head. “I’m good. I’ll catch you guys later.”
Outside, the night slams into me. Wind cuts at my face as I zip my coat higher, breath steaming in the dark.
A part of me hates that she’s with Dylan, but another part clings to relief that she isn’t stranded alone on the side of the road.
Still, the thought of him beside her makes the cold seep deeper, like it’s in my bones now.
I walk fast, boots crunching over frozen patches, the streets empty. No cars. No voices. Just the hush of a town curled in on itself, families tucked close together, hockey on their screens, Christmas lights glowing in their windows. Together. Warm.
By the time I push through the doors of the inn, the blast of heat and the scent of hot cocoa hit me like an embrace. The fire roars in the hearth, throwing sparks of light into the lobby’s shadows. God, I could use something stronger than cocoa, something to burn away the chill clinging to me.
I nod to Belinda at the desk and head for the hall, but stop short. Sloane is sitting alone near the fire, her legs tucked up beneath her, glass in hand. When she turns and spots me, her face brightens, though there’s something tired in the edges of her smile.
“Hey, Sloane,” I say, shrugging off the night air as I walk closer. “How are you feeling?”
“This helps,” she says, lifting her glass. The steam curls above the rim, but it’s not cocoa—there’s too much amber glinting through it. “Hot toddy.” Her gaze flicks over me, noting the cold still radiating off my skin. “You look like you could use one.”
“Or two,” I admit, hanging my coat on the rack.
“Sit. I’ll grab you one.”
Before I can protest, she disappears, and I lean toward the fire, letting the flames thaw the ache in my fingers. When she comes back, she hands me the warm glass, the fragrant heat rising to my face.
“Thanks.” I take a sip, the burn sliding down my throat. “Perfect.”
Sloane sinks back onto the sofa, phone in her hand but untouched. No scrolling. No posed selfies. Just her, staring into the flames, shoulders weighted.
“You enjoying Snowberry?” I ask, easing into the chair across from her.
Her laugh is soft, almost wistful. “Jaylynn asked me the same thing. It’s quaint, and…small. Everyone seems to know everyone, and outside of Dylan and his family, I only know you and Jaylynn.”
“Where’s home?”
“California.”
I whistle low. “You’re a long way from sunshine and palm trees.”
She nods, her eyes flickering toward the fire. “Yeah. I am.”
“Missing your family?” I ask gently.
Her lips tilt, but it’s not quite a smile. “Every day. But Dylan wanted to spend Christmas here, with his family. He said he can’t stand being somewhere without snow at Christmas.”
“How did you two meet?” I ask.
“I came to Vermont to ski. We met on the hill.” A laugh escapes her, brittle and humorless. “Next thing I knew, I was packing up my life in California and moving to Rutledge.”
I lift my glass in a silent toast. She clinks hers against mine with a hollow ting. “Well, at least Rutledge is bigger than Snowberry.”
We fall quiet, both of us watching the fire crackle and spit, the flames chewing at the logs. Then she breaks the silence. “I really like Jaylynn. You two are great together.”
She’s not wrong. “Thanks.”
“You should lock that in,” she adds, half teasing, though her eyes don’t hold humor.
I tilt my head, studying her. “I already did.”
A slow nod and then quietly, “Right.”
Just one word. But it lands heavy. Not agreement. Not approval. Just…doubt. She doesn’t buy it. Which means Dylan probably doesn’t either. My jaw clenches. If he says or does anything to ruin this festival for Jaylynn, I swear…
“Sloane,” I start, but the shrill BZZZZZ of the mistletoe alarm cuts me off.
We both turn toward the lobby, watching a couple lean in, laughing as they kiss beneath the sprig dangling overhead. When I glance back, I catch it, the flash of pain in Sloane’s eyes, there and gone.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
Her throat works as she swallows. “Dylan and Jaylynn got caught under that earlier.”
My chest tightens. “Under the mistletoe?”
“Yes.”
“Surely to God they didn’t—”
“They did.”
Heat surges through me. My hands curl into fists before I force them to loosen. I am not going to hit Dylan. I won’t do anything to upset Jaylynn.
“I was coming from the dining room and saw it,” Sloane says, her nose wrinkling like she wants to block out the memory. “And I’ve had this awful feeling ever since…well, since I arrived.” Her voice wavers, but instead of pressing into that feeling, she pivots. “Do you think he—”
“No,” I cut in firmly. “I don’t think it meant anything.”
The lie tastes bitter, but what good would the truth do? She loves him. I can see it in her eyes, the way they go glassy, the way she’s clinging to hope like it’s all she’s got. So, I swallow my own anger, my own distrust, and let her keep the scraps she needs.
“They simply got caught under the mistletoe,” I add. “And you know the saying—when in Rome.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Her gaze drops to her drink. “He went into Rutledge earlier. We had plans, but out of nowhere he said he had to check on something at the office.” She checks her phone, thumb flicking across the screen. “He’s been gone a long time.”
My gut coils tight. A bad feeling gnaws at me. “He ran into Jaylynn. She had a flat tire. He stayed with her until the tow truck came.” Why the hell didn’t he call or text to let her know. I drain half my toddy in one go, the burn scalding down my throat. “He’ll be back soon.”
“He’s with Jaylynn?” she asks, her voice catching on the name.
“Yeah.” I force calm I don’t feel. “They just happened to run into each other.”
The words scrape out of me, and don’t at all sound convincing. Because even as I sit here, trying to assure Sloane nothing is happening, alarms blare in the back of my brain—insistent, ugly whispers that maybe, just maybe, I’m wrong.
I glance toward the inn’s door, willing it to open. Willing Jaylynn, not Dylan, to step through. But when it finally swings wide, it’s only another couple. The mistletoe alarm chirps again as they kiss, and something in me snaps. First chance I get, that damn thing’s coming down.
Sloane and I linger, trading small talk. I ask about California, about her family. And for a moment, the heaviness lifts. A smile finally curves her mouth, genuine, brightening her face. We laugh softly, sip the last of our drinks, and the exhaustion creeps in, tugging at the edges of us both.
She picks up her phone again, checks it, and her face falls when the screen stays blank. No messages. No Dylan.
“I think I should call it a night,” she murmurs, the fight draining out of her.
I check my phone again. Nothing. I’d asked Jaylynn to keep me posted, but she hasn’t sent a single message. A knot tightens in my stomach. Maybe I should call, make sure the tow truck actually showed. My thumb hovers over her name when the front door creaks open, and there she is.
Jaylynn.
Relief barrels through me. But it lasts only a second, because right behind her, too close, is Dylan.
I’m on my feet before I know it, crossing the room in three strides.
I slide an arm around Jaylynn’s waist, pulling her close, and press my mouth to hers.
The kiss is deliberate, claiming. Possessive.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide, her smile unsure.
“You okay?” My voice is softer than I feel.
“Yes.” She glances over her shoulder at Dylan, who is peeling off his jacket like he owns the place.
“I ended up getting a ride home with Dylan. The tow truck was full. Tools everywhere, another guy in the cab, so it made sense to come with him. Guess it was lucky I ran into him.” She gives a quick laugh, but it’s shaky, nervous. My gut twists. Something’s off.
“Debatable,” I mutter, eyes narrowing on Dylan. “So. Two tires slashed, huh?” My tone is sharp, laced with suspicion I don’t bother hiding. “What’s going on in Rutledge these days?”
He shrugs, all casual indifference. “Kids.”
“Kids, huh?” I step closer, my stare locked on him.