Chapter 8
EIGHT
LIAM
Later that day, after closing the Hot Honey Farm Shop, Liam stood behind the front register.
He was keeping weight off his bad leg while he sketched the storefront in his notebook, wondering what else he could add to the display.
Maybe a few pine trees, more garlands draped along the facade, some handmade ornaments—rustic and festive.
He would need to do a lot more than that to win the light-up competition, but it was a start.
He envisioned turning the front of his shop into a small-town Christmas market, something cozy and nostalgic that brought the farm right into downtown Maple Falls.
Multicolored lights would frame his shop, small twinkly ones around the windows and the icicle type too.
They’d drip down from the roof line in a warm cascade.
Strings of soft white bulbs would wind around wooden crates stacked with jars of honey and bundles of wool, and he’d place glowing lanterns on the sidewalk out front, welcoming people home.
The idea was still rough, but the more he drew, the more it took shape in his mind.
The Santa House opening sure was popular.
He could see more and more locals were flooding into the area, lining up along Oak Way.
Families were bundled up, kids in puffy coats and knit hats chasing each other while parents sipped steaming cups of mulled wine from the local tavern—the Kettle—across the road.
He wondered if he should open up shop again when Cassidy, Zach, Madison, and Kit, the new chef at the Cinnamon Spice Inn, walked by the front of his store. Madison leaned in, cupping her eye to look through, while Zach knocked on the window.
“It’s open,” Liam called.
Zach pushed down the gold handle and opened the door, and Cassidy followed after him.
She was bundled in a deep red coat that hugged her curves, cheeks flushed from the cold, blonde hair braided, a few snowflakes still clinging to the ends.
And, somehow, that felt elf hat she wore still looked perfect.
The way her eyes sparkled under the shop lights made something tighten low in Liam’s gut.
She was chocolate and sunshine, warm and alive, lighting up the dim shop just by standing there, and it threw him completely off balance.
“We’re headed to Zoe’s and then the Santa House,” Madison said. “Thought we’d stop by and see if we could change your mind.”
“I told them you already passed,” Cassidy said, tugging off one glove. “But hope springs eternal.”
“I still don’t know what the Santa House is exactly,” Kit admitted. “But Zach promised there’d be cocktails at the end of it, so I’m down.”
“Zoe said Jackson might meet her there, too,” Zach added.
That surprised Liam. Jackson hated crowds—especially since he’d come home. Even the farmers’ market made him twitchy sometimes. If his brother was going, maybe he should go too.
But the idea of standing side by side with laughing strangers, families with toddlers on their shoulders, couples holding hands under strings of lights… it made Liam’s chest go tight. He didn’t belong in that kind of festive joy. Not anymore.
“Emily bowed out, seeing as she’s still fixing her display,” Madison continued.
“And she won’t let us help,” Zach added.
“I heard the bookstore got hit, too,” Kit added, nonchalantly.
“What!?” Cassidy exclaimed with wide eyes and an indignant expression.
“Someone stole all the lights from the front of the shop,” Kit explained.
“That’s, what, the second attack now?” Cassidy asked. “And still no sign of the Gingerbread Jerk.”
Liam leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. “If there even is one.”
Cassidy raised a brow. “Seriously?”
“I’m just saying,” he said with a shrug. “It’s windy. It’s December. People forget to anchor things. Doesn’t mean there’s a saboteur lurking in the shadows with a Christmas vendetta.”
Zach snorted. “You sound just like the mayor. Anyway, come with us, and afterward I’ll buy you a drink at the Kettle.”
Liam smiled but shook his head. “Nah. Thanks, but y’all go ahead. I’ve got work to catch up on. Maybe next time.”
Liam followed them to the door and locked it. But he didn’t feel any better once they were gone. Watching people walk past the window, laughing and cheerful, only made the ache worse. The world felt too bright, too loud. He needed space. Quiet.
He grabbed his sketchbook, a pouch of pencils, and his coat and headed for his truck. He didn’t know where he was going, only that it wouldn’t be downtown.
The road up the mountain was winding, dusted in fresh snow, and the forest around him glowed faintly in the fading light.
The sun had already dipped behind the ridge, leaving the sky streaked in lavender and pale gold, and below, the town twinkled faintly.
It looked like a snow globe brought to life.
Smoke curled from chimneys, drifting lazily into the twilight, and for a moment, the world felt hushed, like it was holding its breath, waiting.
Some people drank to escape. Liam drew.
He parked near one of the scenic overlooks and killed the engine. For a while, he just sat there, soaking in the silence. A few deer picked their way through the snowy underbrush nearby, and a cardinal darted past the windshield, a flash of red against the gray.
He’d planned to sketch the pines, or the way the snow clung to the branches… but instead, his pencil moved on its own.
Cassidy.
She had the brightest eyes he’d ever seen. But he’d seen something else there, too—a flicker of sadness just beneath all that glittering warmth, like she was trying to outrun something she didn’t talk about.
Line by line, he tried to capture it. The tilt of her head when she listened. The flush in her cheeks from the cold. The way her lips curved into a smile.
It wasn’t perfect. The lighting was all wrong.
But he kept drawing.
Because, somehow, she made the cold less sharp.
Finally, with a quiet breath, he started the engine again, the truck rumbling to life beneath him. As he eased back onto the mountain road, Liam looked back at the glow of the town, a faint, shimmering promise beneath the winter sky.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of something like hope—warm, fragile, and just within reach.