Page 25 of Chloe

I lean in to look, and my breath catches in my throat. The first photo shows us both smiling at the camera—nothing unusual. But in the second, Oliver is looking at me instead of the camera, his expression soft. In the third, I’m laughing at something he said, my head thrown back in a way I barely recognize as myself. And in the fourth...

In the fourth photo, we’re looking at each other, and the connection between us is almost palpable. I look happier than I’ve seen myself in years.

“We should get back to skating,” I say quickly, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. “I think I’m ready to try it on my own now.”

Oliver nods, tucking the photo strip into his pocket. “Lead the way.”

Back on the ice, I push off with newfound confidence. The cold air whips past my face as I pick up speed, and I feel a rush of exhilaration. I can’t remember the last time I felt so... free.

I complete a lap around the rink and find Oliver waiting for me, a proud smile on his face. “Look at you go,” he says. “I knew you had it in you.”

As I come to a stop beside him, I’m filled with a sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss him. The thought shocks me so much that I lose my balance, stumbling forward.

Oliver catches me, his brawny arms wrapping around me. For a moment, we’re frozen like that, our faces inches apart. I can see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek.

“Thanks,” I whisper, my heart pounding.

“Anytime,” he says softly.

We stay like that for a beat too long before slowly separating. As we resume skating, side by side now, I can feel something has shifted between us. The air seems charged with possibility.

After a while, we decide to take a break and explore the Christmas market. Oliver buys us both cups of hot cocoa, and the rich, chocolaty scent wafts up, warming my cold nose.

“So,” Oliver says as we wander among the stalls, “how are you liking Benton Falls’ Christmas traditions so far?”

I take a sip of my cocoa, considering. “It’s... different from what I’m used to,” I admit. “But in a good way. Everything feels so... genuine.”

Oliver nods, understanding in his eyes. “That’s what I love about this town. Everyone really comes together, especially during the holidays.”

As we walk, I open up to Oliver in a way I never have before. I tell him about my childhood, about the Christmases spent in foster homes where I never quite felt like I belonged. About how I threw myself into my career, thinking success and money would fill the void I felt inside.

Oliver listens attentively, his hand finding mine as we walk. The warmth of his touch seems to travel up my arm, thawing something frozen inside me.

“You know,” he says softly, “it’s never too late to create new traditions. To find a place where you belong.”

His words hit me like a gentle wave, washing away some of the walls I’ve built around myself. For the first time, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to stay in Benton Falls, to be part of this community. To be with Oliver.

The thought should terrify me. A week ago, it would have. But now, as we stand in the glow of the Christmas lights, surrounded by the warmth and joy of the season, it fills me with a sense of peace instead.

We make our way to the reindeer petting zoo, where children are squealing with delight as they feed carrots to the gentle creatures. Oliver immediately starts chatting with the caretaker, asking about the reindeer’s diet and care routine.

As I watch him interact with the animals and the people around us, I’m struck by how effortlessly he connects with everyone. It’s a skill I’ve always admired in others, but never quite mastered myself.

“Want to try it?” Oliver asks, holding out a carrot to me.

I hesitate, eyeing the large animal warily. “I don’t know...”

“Come on,” he encourages. “Donner here is a real sweetheart. Aren’t you, buddy?”

The reindeer snorts softly, as if in agreement. With a deep breath, I take the carrot from Oliver and hold it out. Donner’s velvety nose brushes against my palm as he gently takes the treat, and I can’t help but laugh at the ticklish sensation.

“See? Not so scary after all,” Oliver says, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back.

As we continue to explore the market, I find myself relaxing more and more. We sample local cheeses, admire handcrafted ornaments, and even try our hand at decorating gingerbread cookies at a workshop set up in one stall.

My cookie ends up looking like a disaster, with icing smeared everywhere and candies placed haphazardly. Oliver’s is a work of art, with delicate piping and a perfect candy cane border.

“How are you so good at this?” I ask, laughing as I compare our creations.

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