9. Aiden

CHAPTER 9

Aiden

Automatic doors whooshed open, letting a burst of cold air swirl inside before being chased away by the home improvement store's inviting warmth. The store was the same as it had been when I was growing up, but it wasn’t a place I frequented. There wasn’t any need for me to when there was my mom and, years later, Nicholas who took care of that stuff: buying household furniture and appliances and making sure they got fixed when they needed to be.

To the right, a small seasonal pop-up café caught my eye, tucked into a cozy corner near the entrance. Its wooden stand was strung with fairy lights, and a handwritten menu board hung from a rustic frame, decorated with playful doodles of snowflakes and holly. People in puffy coats stood in line, their cheeks flushed from the cold, clutching steaming cups of coffee and hot chocolate while their kids stared wide-eyed at a miniature train display chugging along by the counter.

“Straight to appliances, or do you need a snack first?”

I shook my head, though the idea of a hot chocolate was tempting. “Let’s get this over with.”

Levi had explained during our drive that he wanted me to feel comfortable staying at his chalet, and part of that meant finding a stove I actually liked. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that any stove would’ve worked just fine as long as it turned on and didn’t explode. Still, the gesture was sweet—letting me pick out something for the place, like I should have some say in it.

His chuckle rumbled low, a soothing contrast to the hum of holiday music playing over the speakers. “That’s the spirit.”

We wove through aisles lined with sparkling light displays, bins of discounted ornaments, and garlands wrapped snugly around posts and railings, like the store itself had dressed up for the season. It even smelled like Christmas—pine, cinnamon, and a sugary something that I couldn’t quite place.

When we reached the appliance section, the festive cheer thinned out, leaving the brightness of the overhead lights to do most of the work. It was quieter, too, but not calm enough to stop my stomach from doing a nervous flip when my eyes landed on the wall of stoves.

Rows upon rows of them gleamed under the fluorescent lights: stainless steel, black, white. Some had sleek gas burners, others electric coils, and a few with flat glass tops that looked like they belonged in a spaceship. The tags on each model boasted features I didn’t understand—“self-cleaning,” “dual convection,” “smart touch controls.”

I tried to take it all in, telling myself to focus, but the options blurred together. Something simple, I thought. Something easy to use, so I wouldn’t make a mess of things. But it couldn’t be too basic either—what if the next guest staying at the chalet needed something better? What if they found my choice inconvenient or frustrating?

My pulse quickened as I scanned the models again, the words on the tags swimming in my vision. No matter where I looked, I couldn’t seem to land on the right balance. I felt pressure building behind my eyes, that creeping sensation that whispered I was about to mess this up.

“So,” Levi said, stopping beside me, his voice a calm anchor in the buzzing storm of my thoughts. “What do you think?”

I stared at the stoves again, my heart pounding in my chest. What did I think? That I didn’t trust myself to make this kind of decision. That I’d rather be anywhere but here.

Levi must have noticed my hesitation because he stepped a little closer, his smile steady and warm. “Take your time,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “This is your call.”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure how to respond.I had to make a decision. I was supposed to make a decision.

“Hey, you good?” Levi’s voice cut through the fog in my brain. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I was gripping the hem of my jacket until his hand gently closed over mine. His fingers were warm, grounding, steady.

I took a breath, trying to focus on him instead of the chaos around us. But the stoves—they kept flashing in my peripheral vision, all their buttons and knobs and polished metal gleaming at me like a thousand eyes.

Levi squeezed my hand, drawing my attention back to him. He didn’t say anything, just held my gaze for a second, his thumb lightly brushing the back of my hand.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice calm, like the world wasn’t spinning out of control. “We don’t need to rush.”

His words settled over me. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself absorb the stillness of his presence.

“I—I just don’t know what I’m doing,” I confessed. “There’s too many choices. I’m failing at something simple.”

“You’re not failing.” He gave my hand another reassuring squeeze.

I glanced at him, my breathing shallow. His brows knitted with concern and without saying anything else, he placed a warm hand on my lower back, his touch grounding.

He gently steered me away from the overwhelming rows of appliances, his hand never leaving my back. He led me toward the pop-up café, tucked into its cozy corner.

“Let’s regroup over here,” he murmured, guiding me to an empty bistro table just out of the way of the line. “I’ll grab us something warm.”

I hesitated, my gaze darting between him and the café, but his calm steadiness left no room for argument. “Okay,” I whispered, sinking into one of the chairs.

He gave me a small, reassuring smile before stepping into line. From where I sat, I watched him towering over the other shoppers. He moved with an easy confidence that I couldn’t help but envy.

A few minutes later, he returned with two steaming cups, setting one in front of me. Marshmallows bobbed on the surface, a cloud of frothy sweetness.

“Extra marshmallows,” he said, a playful glint in his eye. “Because everyone needs extra marshmallows during the holidays.”

The corner of my mouth twitched up despite itself. “Is that a rule or something?”

“Absolutely.” He sat across from me, cradling his own cup. “One of those unspoken laws of Christmas.”

I curled my hands around the warm cup, the heat seeping into my chilled fingers. The first sip was pure heaven—sweet, rich, and calming. My shoulders eased as I drank, the sugary warmth working its magic.

“Better?” he asked, watching me over the rim of his cup.

“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling my pulse steady. “Thanks. I guess I kind of… froze up back there.”

He waved it off, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Happens to everyone. Those displays are a lot, and this place is packed today. It’s enough to overwhelm anyone.”

I ducked my head, grateful for his understanding.

After a few more minutes of quiet, he glanced toward the appliances. “I saw one earlier that might be perfect for the chalet. Simple, reliable, nothing fancy. Want me to show you?”

Relief washed over me at the suggestion. “Sure. That sounds good.”

He grinned, standing and offering me a hand. I hesitated for half a second before slipping mine into his. His grip was firm but not overwhelming, steadying me as I stood.

“Let’s make this quick, then,” he said, his tone light but reassuring.

We walked back to the appliance section, and Levi led me to a sleek, modest stove tucked between the more intimidating models.

“You can’t go wrong with this one,” he said, gesturing to it. “Does what you need it to without all the bells and whistles.”

I studied it, the simplicity of the design easing some of my tension. “Yeah,” I said after a moment. “This works.”

Levi’s smile widened, a hint of pride flashing in his eyes. “See? Easy.”

It wasn’t just the stove that felt right—it was Levi. The way he stepped in when I needed him without making me feel small. How he turned something overwhelming into something manageable.

When we headed toward the checkout, I caught myself sneaking a glance at him. Gratitude wasn’t the only thing swirling in my chest anymore—it was something else. Something unfamiliar. Something impossible to ignore.