Page 27 of Mistletoe and Magic

She moved through Mr. Puck's shop like a ghost, unseen and silent, her presence a mere whisper against the din of mechanical life. The rows of clocks seemed to watch her, theirfaces impassive yet all-knowing, as if they, too, were privy to the unfolding drama of her unintended journey.

Outside, the crisp winter air was a balm to her senses, stilling the relentless tick-tock that echoed in her skull.

Felicity's grip tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles whitening as her compact SUV carved a path through the snow-dusted road leading to Northwind Lodge. The passing pines stood as silent sentinels, their branches heavy with winter's touch, indifferent to the turmoil that churned within her. Anxiety gnawed at her insides like an unrelenting beast as she pondered her next move.

"Confront them?" she whispered to herself, tasting the bitterness of the word. "Talk to Jace?" Felicity shook her head, unsure if her voice could make him understand her newfound reality or if it would crumble under scrutiny. The idea of trying to find a way back to her own world lingered at the edges of her consciousness, teasing her with the possibility of undoing the chaos she had unwittingly sewn in this enchanting yet foreign existence.

The guilt of living another Felicity's life was a cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and Jace... sweet, captivating Jace, now entwined in a narrative he never bargained for. She exhaled a shaky breath, fogging up the windshield momentarily before the defroster cleared it away, as if erasing her doubts.

The lodge loomed ahead, its warm lights flickering like beacons against the encroaching dusk. She parked and gathered the basket filled with treats, each step toward the entrance heavy with hesitation.

"Hey, Felicity," Jace called out as she entered, his smile reaching his eyes, those green pools of sincerity that always seemed to see right through her. He approached, dusting off wood shavings from his flannel shirt—a testament to his hands-on approach to the renovations.

"Hey," she managed, her voice betraying none of the inner tumult.

Jace's gaze lowered to the basket and then back to her face. "What's this? Treats for me and the boys?"

"Something like that," Felicity said, hoping her smile was convincing.

Pulling up a chair, he gestured for her to sit beside him by the crackling fireplace. The warmth of the flames caressed her skin, but it was the heat from Jace's proximity that truly made her heart beat erratically.

"Can I tell you something?" he began, his tone unexpectedly solemn. His hand found hers, enveloping it with a tenderness that sent a ripple of longing through her veins.

"Of course."

"It's about Heather—my ex," Jace confided, dropping his gaze as if the words pained him. "She showed up here, with Candace Prescott, the developer, no less. And, I don't know, seeing her just made me realize how much I've changed. What I ever saw in her seems so far away now."

The vulnerability in his voice, raw and unguarded, struck a chord deep within Felicity. In his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own uncertainty, her own search for something genuine amidst the shards of past regrets.

"Jace," she whispered, squeezing his hand in reassurance, though the gesture served to steady her own heart just as much. Her decision, whether to stay entangled in the magic of Christmas Valley or seek the solace of her reality, had become a puzzle with pieces that refused to fit.

"Thank you for trusting me," Felicity added, the words laced with layers of meaning only her heart could fully understand.

As the fire crackled and the evening deepened, the two sat in a companionable silence, sharing not just the warmth of the hearth but the unspoken bond of souls seeking solace in a world that often felt too vast and enigmatic. She wondered how he would feel when he realized she hadn’t been completely honest with him? Would he see it as one more betrayal? If she found her way back to her own reality, could she fix the disruption she’d caused in this one?

17

JACE

That evening, Jace's arms ached from the relentless swing of the hammer, his shirt clinging to his back with the honest sweat of hard labor. Around him, the air vibrated with the sounds of renovation—the rhythmic thuds of nail guns, the high-pitched whir of saws slicing through fresh lumber, and the soft shuffling of workers painting walls in hues that promised new beginnings.

"Careful there, Jace," called out the bank manager, who’d volunteered to help. He was a wiry man whose eyes darted nervously to the entrance of the lodge every so often, as if expecting the formidable Candace Prescott to storm in at any moment. "Wouldn't want to hit your thumb, not with everything hanging in the balance."

Jace grunted, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the sting of worry gnawing at him. "Appreciate the concern, but it's the lodge that's hanging in the balance, not my thumb."

The bank manager laughed weakly, mopping his brow with a handkerchief before scurrying away as the door creaked open, though it was only Felicity who stepped inside, her eyes sparkling like the fresh snow outside.

"Jace! I brought reinforcements,” she called, laden down with an enormous thermos and a plate of treats, the scent of chocolate and spices mingling with the smell of paint and wood.

"Ah, the cavalry arrives," Jace replied, setting down his tools to wipe his hands on his jeans. He admired how she moved through the chaos with an effortless grace, the hair framing her face catching the dim light filtering through the dust-speckled windows.

"Thought you could use a break," Felicity said, setting the tray down on a newly installed countertop. "I've been experimenting for the New Year's Eve menu. Tell me what you think."

He picked up a mug, the warmth seeping into his cold fingers. Taking a sip of the hot chocolate, rich and velvety with a hint of cinnamon, he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the flavors work their magic. "This is... incredible."

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure at the compliment. "You always know just what to say."

"Only when it comes to your baking," he teased, biting into one of her specialty treats, the sweetness melting on his tongue. "Everything else, I'm pretty much winging it."

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