2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Clara

B astion quickly unloaded the trees and drove off. By then, Hogan had left. Probably off to close up his shop down the block. The lump in my throat grew spikes at the thought of him walking past all the pretty shop windows, all the carolers and vendors selling hot cider and roasted chestnuts as he thought of all the ways he was going to punish me.

Stupid Bastion. He thought he was being protective but he was just making everything worse. Though, even if Bastion hadn’t given me that gift, Hogan would just find some other reason to be jealous. An innocent hello or a head nod from another man could set him off.

I used to think about running away. All the time. Not anymore. Not after I’d forgotten to delete my internet search history and he saw I was looking at apartments in Seattle.

His threats to hunt me down and kill me if I ever tried to leave him terrified me to my marrow, but it was more than fear keeping me here.

My mom had loved this town with all her heart, especially during Christmas. Staying here, immersing myself in the magic of wintertime was my way of being close to her. Besides, I couldn’t give up on my dream.

When I was growing up, my parents had owned an ornament shop called Kringle’s. My dad had to sell it to pay for her chemo when she’d gotten sick. The building was a cheesy gift shop now that catered to the tourists that came in for the Christmas season.

The building was big. I couldn’t afford to buy it back, but I was able to buy the smaller one across the street. One day I’d make enough money with my business to buy back the old building to set up my shop. For now, I settled for the view of Kringle’s across the street from my storefront window.

I closed up shop, grabbing my wreath and Bastion’s present before leaving. I’d give almost anything to be able to stay in the shop all night. Hell, I’d gladly live in the little office at the back of my store if I could. But I'd stayed overnight exactly once—It hadn’t even been on purpose. I’d accidentally fallen asleep in my chair one night entering my daily sales into the accounting program. Hogan flew off the handle, accusing me of cheating on him. It hadn’t mattered that I had footage from my security camera, proving I’d been alone in my office all night.

The fucker had hit me anyway.

I climbed into my Subaru and watched the tourists and locals packing the streets, marveling at all the Christmas lights and beautiful storefront window displays. I opened my glove box and moved to shove Bastion’s present inside. The compartment’s little light bulb made the bow sparkle.

I doubted I’d get much of a present from Hogan. He said my engagement ring was so expensive, it was basically my present for the foreseeable future. Apart from the box of oranges my dad had sent in the mail and the little gifts some of my regulars dropped off, I doubted I’d get much of anything this year. That made Bastion’s gift exciting. What could it be? Despite owning a christmas tree farm, Bastion wasn’t exactly big on the holiday.

His parents were gone too, and this time of year seemed hard on him. Not that he’d ever say that, but he wasn’t the only one who could read between the lines.

I opened the package delicately, thinking I might make some cute paper bows out of the salvaged wrapping paper. Maybe I’d buy a present for him, something small if I could keep Hogan from finding out, and put the bow on it.

My throat tightened when I pulled out a book. It was a romance novel, a Christmas-themed one. I read the blurb, and the lump in my throat continued to swell. It was a spicy retelling of The Nutcracker.

I flipped through the book, and my breath latched in my chest when I noticed the inside cover had a note.

“Clara, I know you love books. Notice you reading them all the time. You always insisted on playing Clara in the school’s Christmas play of The Nutcracker because your mom had named you after the main character. I’m sure you have a million copies around so thought I’d get you something a little different.

I heard the heroine in this retelling is a badass. The rat king gets the girl, but he doesn’t have to save her. Clara saves herself. Figure you’d like it.”

I read the last couple of lines several times over before hugging the book to my chest.

Clara saves herself.

I sat in my car, staring down the darkened driveway that led to Hogan’s farm house. Most nights, I’d park by the wooden sign reading Hogan’s Happy Hogs in big red letters with a painted character of my fiancé dressed up in a Krampus costume.

I never sat at the end of the driveway for long. He knew the shop closed promptly at five, and while it took twenty-seven minutes to get to his farm from town using the main road, I’d found a short-cut that only took twenty. That bought me seven precious minutes to myself, which I used to mentally prepare myself for an evening with Hogan and his unpredictable temper.

My attention landed on the wreath in the passenger seat.

The handsome, annoyingly-observant, Christmas-hating Bastion had been right.

I tried to make everything as perfect as I could outside my horrible relationship. Laser-focusing on the things I could control, making them exactly how I wanted, was a much-needed distraction.

I pulled out the wire twist ties I’d been keeping in the glove compartment, and my new book caught yet another long beat of my attention before I stepped out of the car and into the cold.

It had started to snow.

I smiled to myself, the first genuine smile I’d worn all day. My mom loved the snow.

For a blissful moment or two, I sat in the quiet snowfall, affixing my new wreath to the grill of my car until it was just right. I stood back to admire my handiwork, framed by the headlights of my car, when something shifting in the shadows snagged my attention from my task.

My eyes strained through the night. I could have sworn I’d seen…fur. Maybe one of Hogan’s hogs had gotten loose, sometimes that happened. Something told me it wasn’t that. I shrugged it off, deciding not to tell anyone. People saw shit out in these mountains all the time, and the entire town would write it off as a Krampus sighting every damn time.

It was stupid, considering this was Washington state. Bigfoot, maybe. But the Krampus? Even if monsters were real, the Krampus was supposed to frequent central Europe. Not the Cascade mountains. Still, every ‘sighting’ would pull in more tourists.

Nothing like a horned monster with a switch and the promise to punish the naughty to draw in the crowds. Sure, people came to Leavenworth for all the lights and the hot chocolate and the sledding. But regardless of the holidays, people were still perverts through and through.

A buzz in my jacket pocket drew my attention from the movement in the dark. My cell phone’s screen lit up with a series of deranged text messages.

Hogan

Where in the fuck are you?

Are you with that fucking vendor?

That vendor. This was a small town. Everyone knew everyone. And Hogan had known Bastion for years.

I saw you with him.

My chest filled with ice, and every breath I took turned painful. With shaking fingers, I tapped out my response.

Clara

He was just dropping off the last load of trees I ordered.

I know you didn’t have a delivery today.

He saw I was out. He delivered early.

Every place in town is sold out. So why did he pick you, of all the places that sell trees, to deliver early? What favor does he owe you? And what in the fuck is he doing giving you a present?

It was just a book.

It was pointless trying to explain the situation. Hogan never listened. He’d jump to conclusions, and there’d be no convincing him otherwise.

Get the fuck home right now.

There was a part of me—a big part of me—that wanted to climb back in the car and drive as far away as I could. But Hogan was just insane enough to track me down. Just one more night, then I’d look into escaping him tomorrow.

Then again, that’s what I always told myself.

Besides, what else was I supposed to do if I couldn’t bring myself to abandon my shop and my dream to relocate into my mom’s old building? This was a small town. No one was going to protect me from him. Even if everyone found out that the “honied ham man” and the florist weren’t such a perfect couple after all, it was doubtful they’d believe Hogan was capable of such brutality. He ensured never to leave a mark, at least not where anyone would see.

The town loved him. They didn’t know the real man behind the mask.

These days, that was the one thing we had in common. We were both great actors.

I pulled my Subaru into the driveway beside Hogan’s work truck, steeling myself for another beat before walking through the front door of the house.

To outside eyes, the little yellow farmhouse was cute. The perfect home. Especially with the Christmas lights on the eves and the wreath—another one I’d languished over—hanging from the red painted door.

I hated it. The inside smelled like old bacon grease no matter how many times I scrubbed the place clean.

I set my purse on the kitchen counter and walked to the fridge, opening it. I tried not to flinch when the football game from the living room turned off and the groaning springs of Hogan’s old La-Z-Boy announced he was getting up.

Heavy footsteps drew closer. My breathing turned short and shallow with the monster’s approach.

“Look at me, Clara.”

I wanted to defy him, but I knew what would happen if I did.

Reluctantly, I glanced up from the fridge to find Hogan standing in the kitchen doorway. His large frame filled all of it. He used to be handsome, before all the pork took its toll. In high school he’d been every girl’s—and some of the guys too—crush. With curly blond hair and blue eyes. He was different now, in every way. My eyes dropped to the glass of whiskey in his hand. His drinking problem was to blame, but I didn’t dare say that out loud.

I cleared my throat and donned one of my signature fake-as-fuck smiles. “What do you want for dinner?”

“No, you don’t get to fucking do that.”

“Do what?”

His flushed cheeks flamed an angry hue of red with his savage scowl. “Act like little miss innocent. Like you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Right. You lying bitch. You know, you’re clever, I’ll give you that. Everyone in town thinks you’re so perfect. With your flower shop and your little woe-is-me story about your mom.”

Something inside me flared to life, a rage that I usually suppressed for my own safety. But Hogan normally didn’t bring up my mother. He wasn’t a bright man, but he usually knew to stay away from that topic.

“What do you mean, my woe-is-me story? You mean my mom getting fucking cancer and dying just a few weeks before Christmas? Then how my dad up and left me not even a full two months later for some stranger he met on the internet?”

“Yeah. And it happened two years ago. Get the fuck over it. And when I say get over it, I don’t mean by fucking that tree vendor of yours. If I catch him that close to you again, I’ll kill you both.”