5. Chapter 5

It’s freezing cold when my eyes flutter open, and I shiver despite being swaddled beneath the warm, thick blanket. I blink a few times to clear the sleep from my eyes. For a moment, I forget where I am, looking around, confused, as I try to regain my senses. Eventually, it all comes crashing back to me in a heavy wave of emotions. I’m in the middle of the woods, during a blizzard, because I’m a stubborn woman, hell-bent on getting away from the reality of my breakup, and the recent death of my uncle. Oh no, the storm. Don’t panic until you look outside, Hazel . What was I thinking coming up here last night? Tyler begged me not to come, but he should be the least of my worries. I never checked the pantry or the fridge last night. Even though I paid uncle Dex’s rental property servicer extra to fully stock the kitchen, I have trust issues thanks to my asshole ex-boyfriend. Subconsciously, I pull my bottom lip beneath my teeth, chewing on it. Anxiety is such a fucking bitch. On the off chance I need food or something for survival, I wonder if the roads are even passable? I suppose I should leave the comfort of this incredible couch and warm blanket to not only investigate the conditions, but also the source of the cold. Luckily, Uncle Dex designed these houses with actual wood-burning fireplaces. If the electricity is out, at least I can stay warm curled up next to the fire. Groaning, I swing my feet off the couch and onto the cold carpet. A shiver runs through me. The heat has been off for a while if the floor is this cold. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I stumble sleepily to the thermostat for inspection.

I don’t make it all the way to the hallway, distracted by the sunshine gleaming in barely through the back French doors leading from the kitchen out onto the large oversized deck that spans the entire back of the house. Honestly, the deck is probably the same size, if not bigger, than my entire ground floor in the Denver townhouse. Curious as to how many inches cover the ground, I hurry to the door, changing course to peek outside at the drifts. My breath sucks in with a surprised whoosh. There must be at least two feet of snow out there. It presses itself against the glass panes, as if straining to burst through the glass and inside the insane luxury kitchen. The more I look around, the more I’m seriously considering selling the townhouse and moving in here forever. Ha—you wish, Hazel. Never say never, a small voice whispers in my head, but I ignore it.

Everywhere I look the sun rains down sparkles. It’s like we’re in a frosted wonderland. The view from the back is impressive. As far as I can see, even down to the shoreline of the lake, there’s nothing but pristine, untouched snow. It covers the trees, dripping from them like melted white chocolate. There are no animal tracks, or footprints to be seen—just perfect undisturbed nature, and it’s goddamn refreshing. If the view from here is this gorgeous, I wonder what it looks like from the top of the mountain, staring down at all the other snow-covered homes. I make a mental note to watch Jack Frost later—it’s a classic, and I’m sure I can sign into all my apps and find it somewhere. I scurry off to the giant, winding staircase. As I creep up the perfectly undisturbed carpet, my footsteps are so quiet, it feels like I wouldn’t even hear someone else moving around here. Stop it, don’t think like that. You’re going to get all up in your head. Fuck, too late. I’m definitely going to freak myself out. From the upstairs landing I stare out a giant window. I used to love coming up here to look at the stars, but today, it’s snow that captures my gaze. All down the mountainside, the giant cabins are nestled beneath fluffy white peaks of frosting, like gingerbread homes just waiting to be decorated. It makes me smile—this was the moment I longed for as a child. Another shiver reminds me why I woke up to begin with. Back downstairs I go, on a mission to check the thermostat.

The thermostat reads sixty-two degrees. I stare at it in disbelief. I know I clicked it up to seventy-two last night. Didn’t I? Maybe I didn’t. I shrug, unsure of anything I remember from last night. It was so late, and I was exhausted by the time I arrived. There’s no telling for sure what I dreamed, imagined, or what actually happened. But I can’t forget the creepy cop—something was off about him. When he smiled, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Hopefully, I don’t run into him again, ever. Sixty-two degrees, though—no wonder I am freezing. Maybe the thermostat is on some kind of auto cycle. I spend the better part of thirty minutes reprogramming the temperatures and times for my stay. It’s going to take longer than I want before the house warms back up. My stomach rumbles as I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. I side-eye the pile of wood resting next to the fireplace and shrug. Food can wait. A childish grin spreads across my lips as I make my way back to the cozy living room and start building a fire. This is a childhood dream come true. As soon as the wood starts burning, I lean closer, inhaling deeply, taking in every last bit of the comforting smell. My dad and Uncle Dex taught me how to build fires, and the memory makes me feel a little closer to them both right now. Of course, I just miss Dad because I haven’t seen him in over three months. Between work and the cruise he and Mom just took, we simply haven’t had time to get together. He would like this. Uncle Dex would like this. Suddenly, I’m beaming and tears are streaming down my face. This trip and alone time are exactly what I needed. The smell of the fire fills the room. It smells like healing—like fond memories from my childhood. I tend the fire like an overprotective mother until it crackles and pops. Even the cool bricks of the hearth begin to warm beneath me. A second, more urgent grumble from my stomach disturbs the rhythm of the crackling wood. Satisfied with my fire-building skills, I brave a trip to the kitchen to scrounge up some food. I really hope they fucking stocked the kitchen like I paid them to, I think with a grimace.

To my surprise, when I walk into the kitchen, there’s a basket and a red gift card perfectly positioned in the center of the gleaming marble island.

“That’s strange,” I whisper. “I don’t remember seeing this last night.”

Intrigued, I slide the basket across the counter to where I can get a better look at it. The basket is wrapped up all nice and neat in plastic cellophane, stuffed full of oversized muffins in an array of varieties, including poppyseed—yum. Behind the pile of muffins are small bags of flavored coffee. On the top, wrapped up in a bow, is a small white envelope with my name on it. I scan the kitchen for signs of a coffee maker, noticing a fairly fancy machine on the far counter, set up as a coffee bar. With its location acquired, I open the cupboards in search of sugar. To my surprise, I find them fully stocked full of anything I could possibly need. In the third cupboard, I find the sugar, flour, and other baking essentials. My search expands to the refrigerator, which I am pleased to see is fully stocked as well. I locate the half-and-half, snatching it up quickly from its shelf. My steps are filled with excitement, having found the ingredients necessary to conjure up some liquid gold. There’s even a little carafe with different flavored syrups. It’s a coffee lover’s dream come true.

Before I get the fancy coffee brewing, I turn back to the gift basket, eyeing the ribbon holding everything in place. It’s a really pretty package. I snap a picture in case I decide to post it on my social media. Maybe it’ll piss Tyler off. It’s petty of me, but it was petty of him to bring another girl into our home and fuck her in our bed. I mean, who the hell actually does something like that to their partner? I don’t even want to think about it. Ugh. I snap the photo, then pull the tail of the bow, watching as everything unravels. It’s oddly satisfying, and I only feel a little guilty as I untie the basket. The promise of hot caffeine rejuvenating my soul next to a crackling fire makes that guilt disappear fast.

I slide the crisp white envelope open and remove the card. Written neatly in black pen is a short welcome message for my stay, along with the property caretaker’s phone number. His name is Kane. I wonder if Kane is cute. Suddenly remembering my cheesy Christmas romance movie fantasy. I stuff the card back in the envelope and place it next to the basket. Once the coffee finishes brewing, I grab a small plate from the cupboard and carry my coffee and a poppyseed muffin over to the hearth. The muffin is moist and savory—easy to devour between sips of coffee. When I finish, I place another log into the fire to keep it burning and head back for seconds. I may as well enjoy myself. I no longer have Tyler’s voice in my head, taunting me for indulging, or accusing me of overeating. I will never have to hear him make hurtful comments about my body again. It feels so fucking gratifying. Freedom pulses through my veins, and it feels like everything I dreamed it would be. I waddle my cute muffin booty back to the warmth of the fireplace, setting my mug and plate on the end table, then snag my phone from the couch, which hasn’t stopped flashing since I woke up. I don’t want to talk to Tyler or my parents—they mean well, but I just want to lose myself in my thoughts right now. I want to retreat,to breathe, to do whatever I want, whenever I want, even if that means doing absolutely nothing at all. This is the fresh start I’ve needed—the beginning of a season of me. Popping bites of blueberry muffin in my mouth, I scroll through the notifications. The blueberry is just as good as poppyseed. I can’t wait to try the cinnamon crumble next. I skim the messages, and twenty messages are from Tyler alone. I don’t bother opening them—I can tell from the text preview that they’re all cringy and clingy. He’s clearly hit the point where he thinks he can crawl back and I’ll take him, just like all the other times. Not this time. I deserve better. My eyes glaze over a line that says if he has to fly out here to bring me back, he will. I scoff so hard that I snort, barely containing the coffee from shooting out of my nose.. When I finally swallow, I’m cackling like a hyena. If anyone could hear me right now, they might actually think I’ve gone completely off the deep end.

The laughter eventually tapers off as I continue to check my messages. My mom’s message surprises me. It’s short and not even prying, like she’s actually giving me some of the space I need to heal on this trip. There’s one from Lexie checking on me, so I send one back, letting her know I am here and settled, then switch my phone to silent and flip on another cheesy holiday romance movie. I’ll get to Jack Frost later. I’m such a sucker for these movies. They’re the perfect escape from my own life, and they give me hope that maybe one day I will meet the one . I think about the mysterious caretaker, Kane, and hope he’s bearded and hunky—though I would settle for abs and a cute face. Grinning from ear to ear, I snuggle back into the same spot I slept in, feeling only a small amount of guilt for squandering my time curled up on this couch for the entire stay. I have all week. What’s a few more hours? It’s still way too cold to venture out of this room, so I promise myself I’ll go exploring and get properly settled into a bedroom after this movie, but until then I am fully immersing myself in the romance.

I’m not sure if it’s because of the emotional exhaustion, the warmth of the fire, or my full belly, but my eyelids are growing heavy. It’s becoming quite clear there’s no amount of caffeine that can save me from the food coma I am about to enter. My body feels heavy as every muscle slowly relaxes, melting me into the soft cushions of the sectional. At first I imagine what it might be like if my life were like one of those movies. This is my shot. This trip is my opportunity to live out a holiday meet-cute and be swept off my feet by a handsome Prince Charming. I fall asleep, blissfully dreaming about my perfect holiday romance story. I can’t wait to drive down to the town so I can bump into the man of my dreams. As I slumber away for who knows how long, in a deep restorative sleep, where my own movie is playing out scene by scene.