Chapter 1

Hazel

Contrary to popular belief, not everyone likes this time of year. Tinsel, cookies, and the same incessant songs playing on the radios of every department store. Stupid Santas with their stupid fucking bells. The way you're expected at all family gatherings, even if you can't stand half of the people and the other half hates you.

Don't get me wrong, I used to love Christmas. Until the year when my dad left us. He just got into his Thunderbird and drove off. Like a man without a care. Like a man without a family.

I was ten. That year, I'd really been looking forward to Christmas. Rushing out into the living room before everyone else had even roused was my thing. What I always did. I'd shake some presents and try to decide if one of them was what I'd asked Santa for. Of course, I knew Santa was a lie. But my little sister Sam didn't. So I kept my mouth shut, and a glimmer in my eye. For her sake.

That Christmas, though, I wasn't the first awake. No. Mom was standing at the door, watching him drive away. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. The Christmas tree lost its shimmer. I didn't shake one present. Didn't want to open a single gift.

The day lost its luster. And it never got it back.

Each year after that, I prayed for him to come back. For him to realize how much he missed us. For him to come around to the fact he couldn't live without us.

His loss hardened me toward my mother. I just knew it had something to do with her. She'd run him off. I'd been daddy's little girl. The apple of his eye. He'd never leave me behind. But he had. Something broke in me that day. And I never fixed it.

Neither did he.

Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer,plays on the radio as Cami shouts at me through the phone and my mind comes back to the present. I watch the Santa in front of the department store ring his bell. Passersby drop change into his bucket, keeping their eyes diverted so he won't judge how much they didn't give.

My brain tries to understand why the fake Santa's already standing in front of the store. It's only Thanksgiving week. It seems like holiday shit starts earlier every year. Or maybe I'm just noticing it this year because of how my hatred has grown for the holiday.

"Are you even listening, Hazel?" Cami asks breathlessly.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm here. You need chapters, I get it. It's just…"

"Yeah, yeah, this time of year. I get it. Look, you've got to get over your Christmas trauma because no publisher cares about your bullshit, alright?" In spite of herself, her tone has softened.

"I know. I think I'm skipping it all this year, Cam. I can't do it. Not again."

"You sure that's a good idea? You only see them once a year, you know."

Who's she telling? They're my family. I should know.

Mom had gone downhill fast after Dad left. She never talked about what happened and never stopped wearing her rings. Jack, Jose, and Johnnie Walker Red were her new men. And she never quite kicked them.

Now, she's living in a trailer park, working as a waitress for just enough cash to cover her habits and her light bill. I'd gotten out as soon as I could. Never looked back, either.

I regret leaving Sam behind. But then again, I'd been just a kid myself when I left. Seventeen and freshly graduated. I wrote my first novel as I couch surfed from friend's house to friend's house. And somehow, by the grace of God almighty, it was picked up by Dolphin Books. A huge name in the industry. Especially for a kid just looking to dip her toes in the world of writing.

Writing had been the one place I could escape it all. Hide away from all the demons and dark shadows that dwelt inside me. It quieted my mind and helped me channel stress.

And it seemed millions of people felt the same way about reading my work as I felt about writing it.

"I promise, Cam. I'll find a way to get back on track. How many chapters do I need to get to you?" I ask as I get out of the car and brave the wind.

"Ten. Which seems like a lot. But we're behind schedule." There's an apology in her voice that shouldn't be there. I was the one that dropped the ball. I should've been working instead of burrowing inside the bullshit in my head.

"Give me another month. Push them off. I'll get it done."

A long sigh meets my ear. "Thank you, Hazel. And look, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Your trauma is your business. I shouldn't have…"

I cut her off, "No, you're right. I have to get over myself."

If only that were easier said than done.

* * *

Flicking through VRBO,I try to find a home to rent out of the city. The polluted air of NYC isn't conducive to the setting I need for my mind. I need to get into the headspace to dive deep into the world of small-town romance. It's worlds away from the dark romance I'd love to write, but Cam doesn't think it's the right time to pitch it. For now, we stick to what works. And what works is sweet. Lovers to enemies and back again.

I land on a massive house in Honeoye. Still in New York, but in the Western portion, near Niagara Falls. Dense, stiff layers of snow have accumulated on the roof. The trees look picturesque. The outside seems a little mysterious mixed with a touch of built in the eighteen hundreds.

"Perfect," I say to myself, clicking on the link to learn more.

It's like something out of an eighteenth-century gothic novel. Steep, gabled rooftops on each peaked section of the home. Its wood is darkened by age, paint long gone. Someone hasn't been taking great care of it. The doors and windows are pointed into beautiful arches. One of the top windows has what looks to be stained glass. But the surrounding grounds are vast and snow-covered. And the price is ridiculously affordable.

When I first had this idea, the cost of leaving home had given me pause. But this wouldn't break my wallet, and the vibe is perfect for what I need. The ad mentions many times how close the small town of Honeoye is. ‘Walking distance.'

I bite my lip, sitting back from the screen of my laptop. Shaking my head, I don't give it another thought. I grab my wallet off the nightstand and book it for the entire month of December. Which is less than a week away. I'll have little time to arrange for someone to watch my apartment while I'm gone. Surely Cam will be willing to pop in and water the plants and keep the place looking inhabited. After all, she wants chapters.

Congratulations! Your stay is booked!

A giddy energy rushes through my body. I grab for my wine, sipping it down to the last drop before giggling awkwardly.

"It'll be an adventure," I tell myself. "One I'll never forget."

A small ounce of foreboding sinks through my skin, and I try to ignore it