Chapter Twelve – Sarah
Sarah didn’t want to leave North Peak Pines…and Michael. Not yet. Not when the memory of what almost-happened still tingled on her lips.
But leave she must.
“Thanks for the cocoa,” she said as Michael opened her car door, the metal creaking slightly in the cold. “And the chat.”
The word felt impossibly small for what had passed between them in that cabin. The quiet revelations, the shared laughter, the way his eyes had caught the firelight.
She’d told him things she hadn’t voiced to anyone since the divorce, not even her mother. There was something about him that was open and honest. Something that had made her feel safe to be open and honest in return.
“My pleasure,” Michael replied, his voice low enough that only she could hear it.
Sarah stood frozen between the open door and his solid presence, acutely aware of the heat radiating from him even through his heavy coat. If James hadn’t appeared with his snowplow with such horrible timing, what would have happened in that perfect moment when he’d leaned in?
The memory of Michael’s face drawing closer to hers made her stomach flutter. And she licked her lips, wishing she’d tasted his.
Behind them, James revved his engine, the rumble breaking through her thoughts.
“You should get going,” Michael said, glancing over his shoulder. “James has got a lot of ground to cover. He won’t rest until he’s made sure no one is left stranded.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Heat crept up her neck, and she was grateful for the scarf hiding her blush.
“I mean, I don’t want you to go...but James has other people...”
“To rescue,” she finished for him, the words coming out more wistful than she’d intended.
Michael ducked his head and laughed, the sound warming her more effectively than any space heater. “Yeah.”
“Okay, well, here I go.” Sarah slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, watching in the rearview mirror as Michael began scraping snow from her back window. Without thinking, she pushed the door open again and climbed out.
“Let me help,” she said, grabbing the scraper from her emergency kit.
They worked in tandem, moving around the car with a synchronicity that felt surprisingly natural.
No awkward bumping, no getting in each other’s way, just two people working toward the same goal, anticipating each other’s movements.
Sarah couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so in step with someone.
When the car was finally clear, she circled back toward the driver’s side, her boots finding a patch of ice hidden beneath the fresh powder. Her foot slipped, and for a heart-stopping moment, she was falling.
Then Michael’s hand caught her elbow, steadying her with that same gentle strength she’d felt when he carried her through the snowdrift. His fingers were firm through her coat, holding her upright without gripping too tightly.
“Careful,” he murmured, his face close enough that she could see the dark flecks in his brown eyes. “Will I see you at the cocoa and carols tonight?”
“You will,” Sarah replied, the words coming out breathless…because of the cold, she told herself.
Definitely because of the cold and not because of the heat generated by his body or the look in his eyes that was hot enough to melt the snow all on its own.
She slipped into the car before she could do something embarrassing like ask him to come with her, or worse, lean up and finish what they’d started...kiss.
Their eyes met one last time before he carefully closed the door, his hand lingering on the frame for just a moment longer than necessary.
Leaving her with the notion that he’d like to finish what they had started, too.
As she followed James’s snowplow down the winding road toward town, Sarah replayed every moment in the cabin, every brush of their shoulders, every shared smile.
What was it about Michael North that made her feel so...seen? So steady? So much like herself, but a version of herself she’d forgotten existed during the slow disintegration of her marriage?
The snow-covered pines gave way to the first houses of Bear Creek, their rooftops and yards transformed into a winter wonderland. Sarah barely noticed, lost in daydreams of an evening filled with cocoa and carols...and Michael’s warm smile.
When she pulled into her mother’s driveway, the sight that greeted her pushed all other thoughts temporarily aside. Emmy and Pat were in the front yard, bundled in colorful winter gear, working on what appeared to be the beginnings of a rather lopsided snowman.
“Mom!” Emmy shrieked, spotting the car. She came barreling across the yard, arms outstretched, cheeks flushed with cold and excitement. “You’re back! We’re making Frosty! Come see!”
Sarah barely had time to climb out before Emmy crashed into her, small arms wrapping around her waist in a fierce hug. Sarah hugged her right back, sudden relief sweeping over her that she was home and her family had also survived the snowstorm unscathed.
“I see that,” Sarah said, squeezing her daughter tight before releasing her. “He looks amazing.”
“He needs a nose,” Emmy declared, already tugging Sarah toward the snowman. “And eyes. And a hat. Grandma Pat says we can use a carrot and some of her buttons.”
Pat waved from where she was patting snow onto the middle section. “Welcome back, honey. Emmy and I have been keeping busy while you were…gone.”
“I can see that,” Sarah laughed, joining them in the yard. “Need another set of hands?”
“Yes!” Emmy exclaimed. “You can help me make his arms. We need sticks.”
“Okay, let’s see if we can find some,” Sarah said, looking around, even though the snow seemed to have buried everything deep.
The next half hour passed in a flurry of snowman construction, Emmy directing operations with the seriousness of a five-star general.
Sarah found herself laughing more than she had in months as they debated the perfect angle for Frosty’s twig arms and whether his coal-button eyes should be close together or far apart.
Pat eventually disappeared inside, returning with steaming mugs of cocoa balanced on a tray alongside a plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Break time,” she announced, setting the tray on the porch railing.
Emmy needed no further encouragement, abandoning her snowman duties to grab a mug. Sarah followed more slowly, accepting the warm drink gratefully. The cocoa was good—rich and sweet with just a hint of cinnamon—but it wasn’t quite the same as Michael’s.
As Emmy darted back to the snowman, now concerned with the precise positioning of his carrot nose, Pat sidled closer to Sarah.
“So,” she said, her voice casual in that way that immediately put Sarah on alert. “What was it like being snowed in with Michael?”
Sarah took a long sip of cocoa to hide her expression, but she couldn’t quite smother the smile that tugged at her lips. “It was nice.”
“Nice,” Pat repeated, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, that’s a good place to start.”
Sarah’s cheeks warmed, and this time she couldn’t blame it on the cold. “Mom...”
“What?” Pat asked innocently. “All I said was it’s a good place to start.”
Start what? Sarah wanted to ask, but she already knew the answer. Start living again. Start feeling again. Start trusting again.
Maybe even loving again.
She watched Emmy place the last button on the snowman’s chest with ceremonial precision, her small face serious with concentration.
Behind her, the late afternoon sun broke through the clouds, casting long blue shadows across the snow.
In a few hours, she’d be at the Cocoa and Carols event, and Michael would be there, and maybe—just maybe—they’d pick up where they left off. ..
“Yes,” Sarah agreed absently. “It is a great place to start.”
But the real question was…where would it end?