“Sit. I’ll grab you one.”
Before I can protest, she disappears, and I lean toward the fire, letting the flames thaw the ache in my fingers. When she comes back, she hands me the warm glass, the fragrant heat rising to my face.
“Thanks.” I take a sip, the burn sliding down my throat. “Perfect.”
Sloane sinks back onto the sofa, phone in her hand but untouched. No scrolling. No posed selfies. Just her, staring into the flames, shoulders weighted.
“You enjoying Snowberry?” I ask, easing into the chair across from her.
Her laugh is soft, almost wistful. “Jaylynn asked me the same thing. It’s quaint, and…small. Everyone seems to know everyone, and outside of Dylan and his family, I only know you and Jaylynn.”
“Where’s home?”
“California.”
I whistle low. “You’re a long way from sunshine and palm trees.”
She nods, her eyes flickering toward the fire. “Yeah. I am.”
“Missing your family?” I ask gently.
Her lips tilt, but it’s not quite a smile. “Every day. But Dylan wanted to spend Christmas here, with his family. He said he can’t stand being somewhere without snow at Christmas.”
“How did you two meet?” I ask.
“I came to Vermont to ski. We met on the hill.” A laugh escapes her, brittle and humorless. “Next thing I knew, I was packing up my life in California and moving to Rutledge.”
I lift my glass in a silent toast. She clinks hers against mine with a hollow ting. “Well, at least Rutledge is bigger than Snowberry.”
We fall quiet, both of us watching the fire crackle and spit, the flames chewing at the logs. Then she breaks the silence. “I really like Jaylynn. You two are great together.”
She’s not wrong. “Thanks.”
“You should lock that in,” she adds, half teasing, though her eyes don’t hold humor.
I tilt my head, studying her. “I already did.”
A slow nod and then quietly, “Right.”
Just one word. But it lands heavy. Not agreement. Not approval. Just…doubt. She doesn’t buy it. Which means Dylan probably doesn’t either. My jaw clenches. If he says or does anything to ruin this festival for Jaylynn, I swear…
“Sloane,” I start, but the shrill BZZZZZ of the mistletoe alarm cuts me off.
We both turn toward the lobby, watching a couple lean in, laughing as they kiss beneath the sprig dangling overhead. When I glance back, I catch it, the flash of pain in Sloane’s eyes, there and gone.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
Her throat works as she swallows. “Dylan and Jaylynn got caught under that earlier.”
My chest tightens. “Under the mistletoe?”
“Yes.”
“Surely to God they didn’t?—”
“They did.”
Heat surges through me. My hands curl into fists before I force them to loosen. I am not going to hit Dylan. I won’t do anything to upset Jaylynn.