Four
Isla
“ W hat a lovely surprise!” Evangeline draws me into a tight hug that smells like melted sugar, crisp spruce, and warm dough.
It’s her signature scent of the season, courtesy of the baking, decorating, and hosting frenzy she passionately undertakes this time of year.
“Though, I must admit,” she adds with a wink, “I’ve had a dream or two about you and my Ash. ”
“And made nine or ten vision boards about your future!” Willow chimes in with a laugh. A few inches taller than my five-five frame, she beams down at me with a wide, mischievous grin so very reminiscent of Asher’s.
Sporting a gold sequin sweater that shimmers in the glow of the tree, she could easily pass as part of the decor. Her blonde hair is piled in a loose bun on top of her head with a few stray tendrils framing her heart-shaped face.
When my gaze lands on the glass in her hand, she gives the fruity concoction a little swirl. “Mom’s new recipe. Frosty Fizz.”
“Pun intended,” Evangeline adds, and they burst into giggles.
As I laugh along with them, warmth envelops me in a sensation that can only be described as peace .
The real, rare kind.
These two women have always owned pieces of my heart. Chunks of it, actually.
Evangeline carried me through the pain of loss, helping me find slivers of light even in the deepest dark. More importantly, she’s the reason therapy remains a constant in my life.
Willow, on the other hand, is the little sister I wished for on every shooting star.
I sample her cocktail, the cool sparkle of bubbles tickling my tongue. “So good,” I say, handing it back. “But I’ll pass on my own before dinner or I’ll actually pass out on you. We had a long, bumpy drive in. I’m exhausted.”
“No naps allowed,” Willow warns, snatching away the drink. “Not before I get all the details on your love affair with my brother.”
“Asher?” I drag out his name, buying a few seconds to summon the emotions I’m supposed to be peddling.
She arches an eyebrow. “Is there another brother we should be discussing instead?”
“No!” Hell no . “Yeah, so…Ash and I…”
I desperately scan the room for words that will keep me from committing treason.
Too much of it, anyway.
“We’re a…thing. ”
“Friends-to-lovers and diapers-to-dates, huh?” Willow refuses to let me off the hook. “How’s that for a transition?” Her voice is light and teasing, but it’s plain to see she’s digging for dirt.
“Good. Great. It’s… uhh …great.” Cheeks burning, I fight the urge to swipe her ice-filled glass and press it against my skin.
“Details!” she prods, oblivious to the emotional minefield I’m tiptoeing through. “I’m still trying to figure out how the whole thing works.”
Same.
Asher and his creative, lying ass should be here to bail me out.
Dragging my fingertips across my bottom lip, I rack my brain for a believable tidbit of information.
Something safe. Authentic.
“He sends me treats at work.” There . One thing I don’t need to lie about .
For nearly a year now, packages have been appearing at my cubicle every Monday morning, brimming with spoils I’m too stingy to splurge on. Some days, those deliveries were the only thing that got me through the week in my toxic office.
Willow nods in approval. “Not bad.”
“He also champions my work.” Another truth.
Despite relentlessly pushing me to join the creative team at Theo’s new marketing firm, my best friend is wholly invested in supporting my career as a graphic designer.
“It’s obvious he adores you,” Evangeline says. “As do the rest of us. You’ve always been a part of our family, Isla.”
If guilt were snow, I’d be buried under an avalanche right about now.
I swallow down my discomfort and paste on a smile. “I adore you all even more. ”
That’s the exact moment Asher and Theo make their entrance.
The older Thorne strides to the fireplace, unloading an armful of logs into a wicker basket without a word. The front of his sweater is soaked through, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. Damp waves cling to his forehead, darkened to near-black by sweat.
I make a valiant effort to ignore the flex of his forearms as he works.
He ignores me— period .
Meanwhile, the younger brother bounds up to me with the enthusiasm of a tongue-wagging puppy. “We chopped some wood to keep you warm, my Jingle Belle,” he says, bopping my nose.
I look up at him—not a hair out of place—and stifle an eye roll.
“Spoiling our Isla, huh?” Willow says. “Treats at work and now hauling in literal heat?”
Asher winks. “What can I say? My girl deserves to be pampered.”
“What was in her care package this week?” Willow asks, eyes bright with curiosity.
My stomach flips. This is no longer harmless family teasing. It’s fragile hope taking flight—and I’m the liar giving it wings.
“A bunch of stuff, right?” Asher purses his lips at me. “High-end drawing pencils, a new sketchbook since your last one was full, that wrist brace thingy to stop your hand from cramping when you’re working too much, a bunch of chocolate, cupcakes—”
“Straight from Sugarpine Sweets,” I tack on, prompting the women to immediately break into a chorus of delighted coos .
“Oh, and those smoothies you’ve been addicted to lately.” He pats my cheek. “Like I said—only the best for my—”
“ Boba ,” Theo mutters, his voice low and gruff.
A sharp crack splits the air as one of the logs snaps.
Everyone glances his way, but he stays locked in a quiet sparring match with the fire.
Undoubtedly offended by my sugary choice, he’s probably cleansing his protein-packed soul with visions of the swampy sludge he calls breakfast.
“Right. Bubble tea.” Asher smacks his forehead, then juts his thumb toward his brother. “I was in Theo’s office when I placed the order. Nearly bought the wrong thing. So glad I’ve got my worldly big bro on standby to help me woo my baby girl.”
A metallic clang ricochets through the room as Theo drives the poker into the hearth, sending the stacked wood clattering in all directions.
I jump at the sound, pulse spiking.
He doesn’t even flinch.
“Well, I’m thrilled to see this change in you, Ash.” Willow gives her brother's bicep an affectionate squeeze. “Before you told us the happy news, we were all so worried Sienna’s wed—”
“ Will .” Evangeline shoots her daughter a warning look. “We don’t need to dwell on the past.” Her voice is gentle but firm, the smile pulling her beautiful face a little too tight. “Let’s keep the mood festive, all right?”
Willow blinks, then nods. “Sorry,” she says. “Anyway, your girlfriend was just about to share your romantic hometown plans with us. Right, Isla?”
I wrinkle my nose. “I was?”
“What’s on the docket? Snowy sleigh rides, mistletoe kisses, hot tub hookups—?”
Evangeline gasps theatrically. “Willow Rae Thorne! That’s the family hot tub you’re volunteering for debauchery!”
“No need to sound so scandalized.” Willow waves her off with a smirk.
“I’ve had the misfortune of walking in on you and Dad during one of your…
dips . You’re both getting chlorine for Christmas.
” She shudders dramatically. “I’ve also ordered bleach for my poor, traumatized eyes.
” Her melodic laughter rings out, pulling everyone into its glow.
Well, everyone except Theo.
Posture rigid, jaw set, he continues to keep his distance. The flames hiss and spit under his stare like they know they’re being judged—and flunking the performance review.
Welcome to my world.
“Maybe we’ll give Starlight Summit a try,” Asher suggests, sliding his hand around my waist. “What do you say, Gingerbread Ginger?”
A stunned huff slips past my lips. “To trusting your vintage vanity project to get us up the mountain? Or about that crime of a nickname?”
“Mountain,” he clarifies, making no apologies for his abysmal alliteration.
“That’s a couple-y thing to do, right? On Christmas Eve, we’ll climb to the summit, wish for eternal love, and seal the deal with a kiss at midnight.
Test the legend and see if the lore comes to life.
” Pulling me closer, he starts to lower his mouth toward my cheek.
My threatening glare is ripe with warning— don’t you dare kiss me or I’ll bite —but he’s not looking my way.
He’s staring across the room. At Theo.
Which means now, so am I.
When our eyes lock, Theo’s entire frame tenses, shoulders stiffening, muscles rippling beneath his sweater. A rough breath tears past his lips, and his death grip tightens around the poker. Then, with sudden, jarring force, he slams it into a log, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.
Firelight erupts, catching the severe cut of his jaw and the volatile intensity in his gaze. The sheer magnitude of it sends a shiver through me—one I’m certain Asher feels, given our proximity.
Without a word, Theo flings the metal tool aside and stalks out of the room, taking his stifling presence with him.
A thick, heavy silence follows. It’s broken only by Willow’s attempt to lighten the mood with what I assume is a joke. I have no clue what she actually says. Even delivered in her brightest, most buoyant tone, the words fail to register.
All my senses converge in my chest, holding an emergency meeting to dissect the unease twisting under my ribs.
Why should I care that Theo stormed off?
Good riddance— right?
But also…
Why does his anger excite me?