Chapter Seven – Daniel
With bedtime stories told and final kisses delivered, Daniel eased Teddy’s bedroom door shut and stood in the hallway, listening.
The faint sound of both children’s steady breathing confirmed what he already knew—they’d fallen asleep almost instantly, exhausted from a day of fort-building, board games, and movie watching.
He stood for a moment, listening to the familiar sounds as the house settled around him, creaking softly as it cooled in the winter night. Outside, snow still fell, blanketing Bear Creek, creating that peculiar hush that made the world feel smaller, more intimate.
This has been the best snow day ever, his bear said happily.
Oh, it has, Daniel agreed, his thoughts and his senses switching to the woman who waited for him downstairs.
Suddenly nervous, he made his way down the stairs, each step familiar beneath his slippered feet. Strange how the same fourteen stairs he’d mindlessly climbed thousands of times now felt significant—like crossing some invisible threshold between what had always been and what might be.
The living room glowed with firelight. Holly sat on the sofa, legs tucked beneath her, staring into the flames, the too-large sweater slipping off one shoulder. His bear rumbled with satisfaction at the sight of her wrapped in his things, surrounded by his scent.
She looked up as he entered, and something in her expression made his heart stutter.
“They’re asleep,” he said, keeping his voice low.
Holly smiled. “They had a big day.”
“We all did.” Daniel moved to the fireplace, adding another log. Sparks spiraled upward as he settled the wood into place. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Something stronger?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” She covered her mouth as she yawned widely. “I think I’ll be asleep too soon.”
“Don’t let me keep you up.” Daniel lowered himself onto the opposite end of the sofa, close enough for conversation, far enough that he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for her.
His bear grumbled at the distance, but Daniel knew better than to rush this. Whatever was happening between them was too important, too fragile to push.
“Your bakery—the kids mentioned it earlier,” Holly said, breaking the comfortable silence. “How long have you had it?”
“Ten years this spring.” Daniel smiled at the memory of opening day. “I always enjoyed baking, and so I figured I’d go for it. Life’s too short, right?”
“Right,” she said, with a flicker of a smile.
“It wasn’t easy. I put in long hours, working solo most of the time as I built the business.” Daniel nodded to himself as he remembered those first months. “But my friends had my back. Kept me going.”
“And your family?” Holly asked, then quickly added, “Sorry, you don’t have to answer.”
“No, it’s okay.” He took a breath. “My father had some strong opinions about it.” Daniel chuckled, though the memory still carried a sting.
“But then he always had. When I wanted to go to culinary school after college, he said baking wasn’t ‘manly enough.’ He wanted me to go into construction like him. And so I did.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Holly said, indignation flashing in her eyes. “Have you seen yourself? You could knead dough in a pink apron and still look like you could bench-press a truck.”
Heat crept up Daniel’s neck at her words. Had she been noticing his physique?
Wait until she sees mine, his bear said.
“Yeah, well. Dad had old-fashioned ideas about a lot of things.” Daniel shrugged. “I opened Brooks’ Bakery anyway. Turns out Bear Creek was desperate for a decent croissant.”
Holly laughed, the sound warming him more than the fire. “Those pain au chocolat this morning were evidence enough of that.”
They fell silent again, the crackling fire filling the space between them. Holly pulled the sleeves of his sweater over her hands, creating makeshift mittens as she tucked her feet further under herself. The movement was unconsciously endearing, like she was burrowing deeper into his world.
“How do you manage it all?” she asked after a moment, her voice filled with curiosity. “The bakery and two young children. It can’t be easy.”
The question touched something deep within Daniel, a vulnerability he rarely exposed. But the intimacy of the moment, just the two of them in the firelight, the children sleeping upstairs, the snow falling outside, invited honesty in a way he couldn’t resist.
There was nowhere to hide here, and for once, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“It wasn’t part of the plan,” he admitted, watching the flames dance. “Being a father. I mean, I always wanted kids someday, but not like this. Not alone.”
Holly’s eyes never left his face, her attention a tangible thing that encouraged him to continue.
“Three years ago,” he began. “I got a call from Fiona over at social services. Emergency placement needed for two siblings. Their mother had been ill for months but had tried to keep the family together. There was no other family available…”
He took a breath, the memory vivid despite the years that had passed.
“It was supposed to be temporary. Just until they could find a more permanent situation.” Daniel’s voice cracked at the memory.
“But the moment they arrived—you know, Holly, they were so small. Clinging to each other like they were all either of them had left in the world. And I had this overwhelming need to protect them.”
He could still see them standing in his doorway, Maisie’s thin shoulders squared protectively around her little brother, both of them with hollow eyes that had seen too much.
His bear had risen so fast then, a wall of instinctive fury and protection, that he’d barely heard the social worker’s explanation over the roar in his head. Ours.
“Their mom died a short time later. And by then...” He swallowed hard. “By then, I couldn’t imagine them anywhere else. They were already mine, you know?”
Holly nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“The town rallied around us. The paperwork took months, but the love? That was immediate.” Daniel smiled, remembering the casseroles that appeared on his doorstep, the offers of childcare, the way Bear Creek had embraced his unexpected family.
“I rebuilt everything around them. Changed the bakery hours to work around school drop-offs, rearranged my entire life to give them stability. Therapy appointments, bedtime routines, school plays—all of it.”
“That’s...” Holly’s voice wavered. “Daniel, that’s incredible. You’re incredible.”
Her words hit him hard. She understood him.
And the choices we’ve made. His bear rumbled with pleasure at her approval.
“Not really,” he demurred, uncomfortable with the praise. “Anyone would have done the same.”
“No,” Holly said firmly. “They wouldn’t have. Trust me.”
There was something raw in her certainty, a shadow behind her eyes that made him suspect she knew exactly what it looked like when people chose not to step up. Something in her tone made him wonder about her own family, what she’d experienced that made her so certain of this truth.
The conversation lulled, a comfortable silence settling between them. Holly shifted slightly, and Daniel noticed she’d moved closer, the distance between them on the sofa shrinking by a few crucial inches. His pulse quickened.
“You must be bursting with questions about me,” Holly said suddenly, looking down at her hands. “About yesterday. The wedding dress. All of it.”
Daniel considered his response carefully. He did have questions—so many questions—but pushing felt wrong.
His bear, usually so demanding, was surprisingly patient on this matter. Don’t rush her.
“I don’t expect anything from you, Holly,” he said gently. “Not explanations, not anything.”
Her head snapped up, surprise evident in her widened eyes. For a moment, she simply stared at him, as if trying to determine if he was sincere. Whatever she saw in his face must have convinced her.
“I left my wedding,” she whispered, the words falling into the space between them like stones into still water. “Obviously. But it wasn’t... it wasn’t a last-minute panic or cold feet.”
Daniel remained silent, giving her room to find her words.
“I saw the truth of what I was stepping into,” Holly continued, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “Something happened that made it impossible to walk down that aisle. To say those vows.”
She didn’t elaborate, and Daniel didn’t push. The firelight played across her face. His bear urged him to reach for her, to pull her against his chest and promise protection from whatever had hurt her. Daniel resisted, keeping his hands firmly in his own lap.
“Thank you,” Holly whispered, meeting his eyes. “For letting me into your life.”
“Are you kidding?” Daniel teased, lightening the moment. “I don’t know if I’d have gotten through this snow day without you.”
“Yes, you would,” Holly said lightly. “I think you can achieve whatever you set out to do.”
Like convincing our mate to stay, his bear added silently, satisfaction thrumming through him.
As if drawn by some invisible force, they’d shifted closer still, the distance between them narrowing to mere inches. He could smell the faint scent of his shampoo in her hair, could see the delicate pulse at the base of her throat. His bear stirred restlessly, wanting to claim, to protect.
Daniel cleared his throat. “You should probably call someone, though,” he suggested carefully.
“Just to let them know you’re safe. Family or friends who might be worried.
” Daniel wished he could take the words back the moment they left his mouth, but practicality won out over his desire to maintain their bubble of intimacy.
“You’re probably right.” Holly stiffened slightly, the openness in her expression faltering.
His phone sat on the side table, mocking him. He reached for it, knowing full well he might be handing her the very thing that would end his dream of them being together.
“Here,” he said, holding it out. “No pressure.”
She stared at the phone without taking it, conflict visible in her eyes.
Daniel sighed inwardly. Being the responsible adult sucked sometimes.
His bear was practically sulking, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that somewhere, someone might be worried sick about her.
“Here,” he said, extending the phone toward her. “No pressure. But if someone’s worried about you...”
Their fingers brushed as she finally took the phone from him, and Holly looked up, startled by the contact.
Their eyes locked, and the quiet between them transformed into something electric.
Daniel felt it like a physical pull, this connection that had appeared out of nowhere and now seemed to define his existence.
Without conscious thought, they leaned toward each other, drawn together by something beyond rational explanation.
Holly’s eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting slightly as the distance between them narrowed to mere inches.
Daniel could feel her breath on his face, could smell the sweetness of hot chocolate still lingering on her lips.
His heart pounded a heavy, hopeful rhythm against his ribs. While his bear roared its approval, every instinct told him to close the final distance, to claim her mouth with his own, to seal the bond that had formed between them from the moment he’d seen her standing in the snow.
But then Holly’s gaze dropped to the phone in her hand, and the spell was broken. She drew back slightly, caution replacing the desire that had been so clear in her eyes a moment before.
The almost-kiss hung between them, unspoken yet undeniable. Daniel exhaled slowly, trying to calm the racing of his heart…and his bear.
Not yet, he told his impatient bear. When it happens, it needs to be right. For both of us.
“Thank you,” Holly said, her voice slightly breathless.
Daniel nodded, creating a bit more space between them on the sofa. “Take your time. I’ll go check on the kids.”
He rose from the sofa, needing a moment to compose himself. As he headed for the stairs, he glanced back at Holly and hoped this wasn’t the beginning of the end.