8. Piper
Piper
Despite wearing five hundred layers, the cold still bites at any exposed skin as I leave the house. My cheeks feel like they’ve been slapped by Jack Frost, and I’m pretty sure my nose is attempting to divorce my face.
I spot Christian standing by a metal trailer, with his back to me, and my heart does that treacherous little skip it’s been doing since he left me as a puddle on the kitchen floor.
We got close to something we shouldn’t have in the early hours of this morning, but I didn’t hate a single second of it.
Whatever loyalty I had left for Travis went up in flames the moment Christian looked at me like he was one second from losing control and still somehow holding the line.
Not that it matters because I know he won’t let it happen again.
But I can’t stomach having something dangled in front of me that I’ll never actually get to taste, so today’s plan is simple.
I’m going with amnesia. As far as I’m concerned, the kitchen never happened.
No awkwardness. No addressing it. No unspoken tension simmering beneath the surface, waiting for one of us to snap.
Just… no.
I see Savannah beside him, her long blonde hair spilling over the back of her coat, and her body angled toward his as she leans in, casual as anything.
We’ve never really met, but I’ve heard a lot about her.
She’s part of the Crawford circle in the way that only history can make someone family.
She also goes to Violet’s for her hair, and my sister—who barely tolerates people on a good day—always says what a sweetheart she is.
I get closer to them, forcing my steps to stay slow.
My pulse is absolutely not racing.
I am one hundred percent not affected.
And I’m lying.
“Hey,” I say, and Christian turns, his expression unreadable—nothing like the way he looked at me this morning.
Then Savannah turns, and Jesus, she’s got the kind of smile that could melt the frozen ground beneath our feet. She looks close to Christian’s age and beautiful in that effortless way some people just seem to carry without even trying.
I’ve seen her a couple of times before, but only at Callan’s bar, which is weird, considering we’ve been living in the same small town for months. Everyone in Rosewood knows everyone, but somehow, she’s been a ghost.
“Savannah, this is Piper.”
“I’ve seen you down at Callan’s,” she says, offering a warm smile that feels like sunshine. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you properly, honey. How you doin’?”
“I’m good, thanks,” I say, before my focus darts back to Christian. “And I’m here to help, so… what do you need me for?”
“I sent Travis to do deliveries, so you’ve got the day to yourself.”
“I can help. I’d like to.”
“Or you can go get warm, read, and do whatever it is you never get the time for.”
I feel myself go still, eyes narrowing as I try to understand what he’s saying, but it all boils down to one thing.
He doesn’t want me anywhere near him.
“I can bring some food up to the house if you’d like. Got the best cakes in all of Rosewood,” Savannah offers.
Or they think I’m as useless as Travis .
Maybe I’ve never been the most ambitious person or found that magical thing I’m supposed to do with my life.
But I work hard at everything I do, no matter what it is.
I don’t half-ass anything, and I sure as hell don’t sit back and let others do all the heavy lifting.
Christian knows I work the busiest shifts at the bar. He should know I can pitch in.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll call Violet and see if she wants to come get me so we can head into town. No point getting ready for nothing, right?” I shoot Christian a smile that’s about as friendly as a knife to the ribs as I turn to walk back to the house.
“Piper?”
I ignore him, pretending that the hat, fuzzy earmuffs, and half a dozen layers I’m wearing have magically rendered me hard of hearing.
I feel his hand on my arm—strong enough to stop me, gentle enough to make my heart forget how to beat properly.
“Piper, hey… Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Need anything from town?”
“You’re mad.”
“No, I’m embarrassed.”
“Why?”
I level him with a look that I hope conveys everything I can’t say out loud.
Because the last time I saw you, I was dying for you to touch me while Travis was sleeping upstairs.
Because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than I wanted your hands on me in that kitchen.
Because I can’t look at you without remembering how close I came to having you.
And the look in his eyes tells me he knows exactly why I’m spiraling. But instead of making this harder, he just lets me have my dignity and doesn’t say a word about it.
“I know you have to sneak around in the middle of the night to do things that make you happy, so I sent Travis out to give you some space up here. He’ll be out delivering until tonight, so I thought…
” Christian pulls off his hat, dragging a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looks so sincere that my heart stutters.
“Listen, if you want to help, I’d love to have you down here, but don’t think you have to.
Travis is expected to pitch in, but you’re not.
You want to spend the next two weeks with your feet up?
Do it. If you want to read in the middle of the night?
Go for it. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do any of this. ”
“I want to help, Christian. Is that okay?”
There’s something about him that makes me feel soft in ways I didn’t know I could be.
Don’t get me wrong—I want to climb him like a goddamn tree and be a total whore for him.
I want to feel the rough scrape of his hands on my skin, the weight of his body pressing me down, and his voice rasping against my ear, telling me exactly how good I am and how perfect I feel taking him.
But another part of me wants something quieter, something more tender, like slow mornings, half-asleep kisses, and coffee shared in silence over a kitchen table.
I want to be his.
And that thought is almost more dangerous than any of the others.
He nods at me before gesturing for me to walk ahead, and just as I start moving, I hear him speak. “Thank you, Piper.”
Savannah hands me a drink as soon as I reach her. “Hot cocoa. Best there is, and I’ll die on that hill.”
“Thank you,” I say, fingers curling around the cup, letting the warmth seep through my gloves, and when I take a sip, I practically moan. Because holy hell, it is the best cocoa I’ve ever had.
I’ve spent the entire day greeting families, helping them pick out the perfect tree while they huddled together against the cold, cheeks pink and smiles wide, watching as they create memories right in front of me.
It’s intimate in a way I didn’t expect.
I never had anything like this growing up. We never had a real tree, just a makeshift one that Violet used to set up in our bedroom with whatever scraps she could pull together.
Now I’m standing on the other side of childhood, watching kids circle a tree three times because it leans just slightly to the left, or how they step back and tilt their heads, imagining it dressed in lights and tinsel.
Even though I’m just the girl handing out saws and helping load trunks, somehow, being part of their joy feels like it’s stitching something back together inside me.
Chainsaws have been buzzing all day, but every time I’ve watched Christian bring down a tree and carry it like it weighs nothing, I’ve gone absolutely feral.
It’s a total cliché, but sue me. A tall, strong guy who can lift massive trees could probably throw me around without breaking a sweat, and yeah, I’m weak for that.
As the last families leave and the sun starts to dip, I wander through the trees, letting the fading silence settle into my bones, allowing myself to breathe in the stillness.
God, it’s peaceful here.
“You lost, darlin’?” Christian’s deep drawl sends warmth running through me.
When I turn, he’s leaning against a tree, his cowboy hat tipped low, casting a shadow over those dark, watchful eyes that see right through me. His coat is unzipped, and his hands are shoved into the front pockets of his jeans like he’s been standing there for a while.
“Not lost, but I could happily lose myself out here. It’s beautiful.” He stands taller and steps closer, his full attention on me. “Can I ask you something, Christian?”
“Sure.”
“Why don’t you have one of these in your house?” I reach out, brushing my gloved fingers over the bark. “It’s so magical out here, and yet?—”
“The house looks like it belongs to the Grinch?” I laugh, and I hear that low chuckle of his.
“Something like that.”
He exhales, glancing past me toward the trees and the land stretching out around us. “I don’t celebrate at the house. I haven’t in a long time. Besides, all I’ve gotta do is look out my window, and I see all of this… So I guess it just feels like a waste of time.”
“Where do you go for Christmas? ”
“My brother’s. Savannah helps him throw together this huge feast at the bar, followed by a whole lot of alcohol and some truly awful karaoke. He opens it up to the whole town, just in case there’s anyone alone who wants to spend the holiday with people.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Shame you and Travis can’t stay,” he says, his voice lighter now. “Woulda taken you both up there, but he stays with his mom every year.”
I try to smile, but it feels all wrong. The truth is, I have no business pretending with Travis, not when I already know I won’t be spending another day with him once we leave this place.
“What was that?” he asks, his voice dipping lower as his eyes scan my face, seeing more than I want him to.
“What?”
“That look.” He steps closer, and the air between us goes thick with everything we’re not saying. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m just happy to be here and see all this. I won’t forget how special this place is.”
What I don’t say is how special he is, how watching him create magic for everyone else while denying it for himself makes me want to gather all his broken pieces and hold them tight.
Show him that he deserves the same care and attention he pours into everything else, and that someone sees the man behind all that selfless giving and thinks he’s worth fighting for.