Page 63 of Rebel Without a Claus
His jaw flexes. He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course I love you, Eve. I never stopped loving you after high school.”
At the top of the hill, I see the group from our lodge looking down on us—the faint sound of cheering and laughter echoing down to where we catch our breath at the base of the hill. I hear a few kids shouting,‘Best Santa ever!’—but all of it fades. It’s just me and him, in the wreckage of our near-disastrous sleigh ride, still catching our breath.
And for once in my life, I don’t feel like hiding behind mistletoe games or cozy distractions. I want to be just as brave as he was.
“I love you too, Luke.” The words rush out of me, warm and certain, and I swear I feel him exhale like he’s been holding his breath for years.
Then his arms are around me, pulling me against his chest, and he kisses me—really kisses me. No fake Santa-and-Mrs.-Claus performance, no crowd egging us on. Just us.
The world tilts a little, but it has nothing to do with sleigh rides or reindeer.
When he finally pulls back, he’s grinning like he can’t help himself.
My heart is still hammering from the ride, from the kiss, from Luke’s words echoing in my head.I love you.It should feel simple. It should feel like the only thing that matters.
But as the town square empties and the laughter fades, the quiet presses in on me, heavier than the snow piling along the lampposts.
I swallow, my fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. My chest is so tight it hurts to breathe. “Luke…” The word comes out cracked, like I’ve been holding it back for years. “I love you. God, I do. But what happens now?”
He blinks, surprise flickering across his face. I don’t think he expected me to go there so quickly, to take this perfect, glittering moment and drag reality into it. But I can’t help it. My brain won’t shut off.
“My life is in LA,” I whisper, forcing the words out even though they sting. “My career, my clients, everything I’ve worked for. And your life—your farm, your reindeer, your whole world—is here. What if…” I bite my lip, terrified to finish the thought. “What if love isn’t enough?”
The question hangs between us like smoke, and for a long beat he just stares at me. Snowflakes drift lazily through the air, settling in his hair, on his lashes, and I almost wish he’d just pull me into another kiss so we wouldn’t have to deal with this.
But of course, Luke doesn’t. He squares his jaw, eyes locked on mine.
“I’d follow you anywhere,” he says finally, voice low and steady. “Even LA.”
A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the cold. I want so badly to believe him, to wrap myself in those words like a blanket. But I know Luke. He thrives on open skies and wood smoke and the stubborn independence of this town. Dropping him in the middle of Hollywood? It would be like caging a wild animal.
“You’d hate it,” I say softly, shaking my head. My throat tightens as I picture it—Luke stuck in traffic on the 405, Luke surrounded by influencers with ring lights, Luke glaring at some overpriced oat milk latte like it personally offended him. “If I’m being honest, I kind of hate it, too. But you? You’d last five minutes.”
His mouth quirks, like he’s trying not to smile, but the look in his eyes is dead serious.
“Maybe,” he admits. “But if you were there? I wouldn’t care.”
The words land in my chest with a dull thud. Beautiful. Terrifying. Impossible.
Because no matter how much I want them to be true, I don’t believe them. Not really.
And the worst part? A tiny, traitorous part of me wonders if maybe he’s right anyway. If maybe having each otherisall that matters. But then another part of me—the practical, terrified part—reminds me that love doesn’t pay rent or rebuild a career if it goes up in smoke.
I bite the inside of my cheek, staring at him, wanting to say all of this and somehow not finding the words.
He watches me struggle, then finally lets out a quiet chuckle. “Okay, fine. You’re right. I’d hate it.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles, warm even through my mitten. “But I’d still have you. And that’s the only part that matters to me.”
Something breaks open inside me, sharp and tender all at once.
And then, just when I’m on the verge of falling apart completely, he tilts his head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Unless you can convince Hollywood to move to Holly Ridge, I don’t see any other way. And I’m not willing to lose you again. I need to try.Weneed to try.”
And that’s when it hits me.
A spark. An idea so wild it makes my breath catch. Because maybe… maybe thereisa way.
The words tumble out before I can stop them, my voice a breathless whisper against the swirl of snow.
“Luke… that’s it. That’s how we can have it all.” My chest squeezes, but this time it’s not fear. It’s possibility. It’s the crazy, impossible idea that suddenly feelsright.
