Page 39 of Christmas With the Jerk

I head back to our table, grabbing my coat and hat. Woodley looks up at me, concern flashing in her eyes. “A little girl’s missing,” I explain quickly, pulling on my jacket. “She ran off. I’m going out to look.”

“I’ll come with you,” Woodley says, already getting up, but I shake my head.

“I’ll be quick. Stay here in case she comes back inside.” I grab my coat from our tubing and put on my damp mittens.

Woodley opens her mouth to argue, but I’m already heading toward the door. The cold hits me the second I step outside, brutal and biting. The wind makes it hard to see more than a few feet ahead, but I push through, my boots crunching through the fresh layer of snow as I circle the hotel.

“Sophie!” I call out, my voice swallowed by the wind. The snow is blinding, each gust feeling like a punch to the face, but I keep moving, scanning the ground for any sign of movement.

Then, just as I’m about to turn the corner, I spot something—a small figure huddled beneath a snow-covered bush, half-buried in the white drifts. At first, I think it’s just a pile of snow, but then I see the little shape trembling violently.

“Sophie?” I shout, my heart pounding as I rush toward the little girl. It must be her.

She’s sitting there, her knees tucked into her chest, trying to wrap her too-thin coat around herself. Her lips are blue, her teeth chattering uncontrollably, but there’s a stubborn set to her jaw, even as she shivers. “I’m not going back!” she shouts, her voice tiny but fierce against the wind.

I kneel down, brushing the snow from her small shoulders. “You can’t stay out here,” I tell her firmly. “It’s too cold. You’re freezing.”

She shakes her head, tears mixing with the snowflakes on her cheeks. “I don’t care! I’m not going back!”

“You’re tough,” I say, my voice softer now, “but even the toughest people need help sometimes. Let’s get you warm, okay?”

Her resolve wavers, and after a moment, she nods. I scoop her up in my arms, cradling her as I make my way back toward the hotel. She’s so cold, her little body shaking uncontrollably, and I pull her close, shielding her from the wind as best I can.

When I step back into the lobby, Woodley is there, waiting by the door, her face pale and tense. As soon as she sees the girl in my arms, she rushes forward.

“She’s freezing,” I say as I set Sophie down gently. The girl’s mother runs over, her face crumpling with relief as she wraps her arms around her daughter, pulling her close.

Woodley is silent beside me, but I can feel the energy radiating off her—something sharper than concern. Her eyes flicker between the girl and her mother, and there’s a tension in her body that wasn’t there before.

“She was determined,” I murmur, still watching Sophie. “Even in this storm, she didn’t want to come back and she was standing her ground. That grit will prove useful in her life as an adult.”

Woodley’s reaction is immediate. Her jaw tightens, and she folds her arms, eyes narrowing slightly as if she’s holding something back. For a moment, I think she’s going to say something, but she stays quiet.

I glance at her. “You okay?”

She nods, but her expression is distant. “Yeah. It’s just, some people don’t stop running, even when the odds are stacked against them. Even when it’s dangerous.”

There’s something in her voice, something raw, almost bitter, that makes me pause. I want to ask her what she means, but Ihold back, sensing that whatever’s going on in her head is too heavy for this moment.

We stand there for a long beat, the reunion of the mother and daughter playing out in the background, but the weight of Woodley’s words lingers between us.

She’s not just talking about Sophie.

The drinks sit forgotten on the table between us, but neither of us reaches for them. Woodley’s been silent since we got back inside, and I can’t shake the image of her standing there when I brought the little girl in. Her face was tense, something storming behind her eyes.

I turn to her, watching as she stares out at the snow, her arms still crossed tightly across her chest. “You’ve been different since we found her,” I say, my voice quiet. “She’s safe, she’s okay. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t respond at first. Then, finally, she sighs, a sound full of something heavier than I expected. “That girl. I see myself in her,” she says softly, almost like she’s talking to herself. “Even when it was dangerous, even when she was cold and alone, she didn’t want to come back.”

Her words hang in the air between us, and suddenly, it clicks. This isn’t just about the girl. There’s something more, something buried beneath the surface, and I realize Woodley sees herself in that little girl.

“She reminded you of yourself?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Woodley flinches, her grip on her arms tightening, and for a second, I think she’s going to shut me out. But instead, she closesher eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “She did.”

I lean forward, trying to understand. “What do you mean?”

Woodley finally looks at me, and there’s something raw in her eyes, something vulnerable I’ve not seen in her before.

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