Chapter 1: A night to forget
2223 Words
Chapter One
A Night to Forget
The snow had swallowed the road sometime around eight.
Olivia Grant knew because she'd stopped seeing anything beyond the headlights of her car twenty minutes ago.
White blurred into white. The windshield wipers worked furiously against the falling snow, but every few seconds another layer gathered on the glass, forcing her to slow almost to a crawl.
“Perfect,” she muttered.
Her hands tightened around the steering wheel.
Of all nights to decide she could handle the drive home alone, this had to be the night the weather decided otherwise.
The sign for Evergreen Mountain Lodge appeared through the storm at the last possible second.
Olivia almost missed the turn.
She swung the car into the snow-covered driveway, parked beneath a row of dark pine trees, and sat there for several seconds with the engine running.
Home was supposed to be another hour away.
Maplewood Hollow.
Her father's house.
Her mother's memories.
She closed her eyes.
No.
Not tonight.
She switched off the engine.
The lodge was exactly the kind of place people came to when they wanted to disappear for a while—warm lights glowing behind frosted windows, smoke curling lazily from a stone chimney, wreaths hanging from the doors, and enough Christmas decorations to make the whole building look like it had been pulled from a holiday postcard.
Olivia grabbed her coat and hurried inside.
Warmth wrapped around her immediately.
The lobby smelled of pine, cinnamon, wood smoke, and something sweet baking somewhere nearby. Beyond the reception desk, a wide stone fireplace crackled beneath a wooden mantel decorated with evergreen branches and tiny golden lights.
People laughed near the bar.
Someone was playing Christmas music softly in the background.
For the first time that evening, Olivia breathed.
She could survive one night here.
One night away from Maplewood Hollow.
One night without her father's worried phone calls.
One night without memories she wasn't ready to face.
She checked in, dropped her overnight bag in her room, changed into a simple black dress she'd packed for dinner, and eventually found herself sitting alone at the far end of the lodge bar.
The bourbon in her glass caught the firelight.
She took a sip.
It burned pleasantly on the way down.
“You look like you're either celebrating something or trying very hard to forget it.”
Olivia looked up.
The man beside her had appeared so quietly she hadn't noticed him take the empty stool.
He was tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair still damp from the snow. His black coat was dusted with tiny white flakes, and when he shrugged it off, he revealed a dark sweater stretched across a body that suggested he spent considerably more time taking care of himself than she did.
His face was attractive in an annoyingly effortless way.
Strong jaw.
A little stubble.
Dark eyes that seemed far too amused by her.
Olivia lifted one eyebrow.
“That's a terrible opening line.”
His mouth curved.
“So it is an opening line.”
“It sounded like one.”
“Then I'll try again.”
He turned slightly toward her.
“Hi. I'm Ethan.”
She looked at the hand he offered.
Then at him.
“You're persistent.”
“I've been accused of worse.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
“Olivia.”
His hand closed around hers.
Warm.
Firm.
Brief.
“Nice to meet you, Olivia.”
She pulled her hand away and lifted her glass.
“Are you always this friendly with strangers?”
“Only when they're sitting alone in a bar during a snowstorm.”
“Convenient.”
“I thought so.”
She laughed under her breath.
It surprised her.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed with a stranger simply because he was funny.
Ethan glanced toward the windows.
“Roads are closed?”
“Apparently.”
“Mine too.”
“Where are you headed?”
He hesitated for half a second.
“Maplewood Hollow.”
Olivia's fingers stopped around her glass.
She looked at him.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“That makes two of us.”
Something changed in his expression.
“Small world.”
“You could say that.”
She took another drink.
Neither of them mentioned that neither had actually answered the question of why they were going to Maplewood Hollow.
Not yet.
Instead, they talked about everything that didn't matter.
The weather.
The terrible Christmas music.
The bartender's suspiciously generous pours.
The lodge.
Travel.
Work.
Ethan told her he spent most of his time moving from one city to another because of business.
Olivia told him she worked in marketing.
He asked what she was doing in the middle of nowhere.
She said, “Going home.”
The words came out more quietly than she'd intended.
Ethan noticed.
She could tell by the way his expression softened.
But he didn't ask the question she didn't want to answer.
That earned him points.
“So,” he said, lifting his glass, “you're going home for Christmas.”
“Unfortunately.”
His eyebrows rose.
“That's a strong reaction.”
“Have you ever had a place you loved so much that you eventually couldn't stand being there?”
He considered the question.
“Yes.”
She studied him.
There was something different in his face now.
Something less playful.
“What happened?”
“I left.”
She smiled faintly.
“Me too.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
The music changed.
Outside, snow continued to fall against the windows.
Olivia stared at the storm.
She'd spent years convincing herself that leaving Maplewood Hollow had been the right thing.
She'd built a life somewhere else.
A career.
Friends.
A version of herself that wasn't constantly defined by what had happened to her family.
But then her father started calling.
At first, once every few weeks.
Then every Sunday.
Then every few days.
He never asked her to come home.
That was the problem.
He didn't have to.
She could hear the loneliness in his voice.
So she'd packed a suitcase and promised herself she'd stay through Christmas.
Just Christmas.
Then she'd leave again.
Simple.
Except nothing about home had ever been simple.
“You're thinking too loudly,” Ethan said.
She looked at him.
“What?”
He smiled.
“You've been staring at that window for five minutes.”
“Maybe I like snow.”
“Maybe.”
His gaze stayed on hers.
“But I don't think that's it.”
The warmth that had settled between them shifted.
Olivia suddenly became aware of how close he was.
Of the warmth of his shoulder.
The faint scent of cedar and something darker.
She looked away first.
“Do you always analyze strangers?”
“Only interesting ones.”
“And what makes me interesting?”
“I haven't figured that out yet.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Maybe it is.”
The bartender came by.
Ethan glanced at her empty glass.
“Another?”
Olivia should have said no.
Instead, she pushed the glass toward him.
“Why not?”
The next drink became another conversation.
Then another.
Hours slipped by without either of them noticing.
Olivia found herself telling him things she hadn't planned to tell anyone.
Not the whole truth.
Never that.
But enough.
She told him she had left Maplewood Hollow young.
That her mother had died years ago.
That she hadn't been home in a long time.
She didn't tell him everything about her mother.
She couldn't.
Not yet.
Ethan listened without trying to fix anything.
That was perhaps the most dangerous thing about him.
He made it easy to forget why she'd built walls in the first place.
Eventually, the bar began to empty.
The fire had burned lower.
The storm outside had grown heavier.
Olivia glanced at the clock.
Almost midnight.
“This was a mistake,” she murmured.
Ethan's eyes stayed on her.
“Talking to me?”
“Coming here.”
“Those aren't necessarily the same thing.”
She smiled.
“Maybe not.”
He leaned closer.
Not enough to touch.
Just enough to make her heartbeat change.
“What happens now, Olivia?”
She knew exactly what he meant.
Her pulse jumped.
She should have stood up.
She should have said goodnight.
She should have remembered all the reasons she had promised herself she wouldn't complicate this trip.
Instead, she looked at him.
For once, she didn't want to think about tomorrow.
“I don't know.”
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes.
“Then don't.”
The words were quiet.
An invitation, not a demand.
Olivia took a slow breath.
“Let's find out.”
His smile was almost unbearably slow.
He stood and offered his hand.
She looked at it.
Then placed hers in his.
---
The hallway seemed quieter than it had any right to be.
Their footsteps echoed softly against the carpet as they walked toward his room.
Neither spoke.
There was no need.
At the door, Ethan turned toward her.
For the first time that night, the confidence disappeared from his expression.
“Olivia.”
She looked up.
“If you want to stop—”
She kissed him before he could finish.
His surprise lasted only a second.
Then his hands settled around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened.
Everything she'd been carrying all day seemed to loosen at once.
The drive.
Her father.
Her mother's face in old photographs.
The house waiting at the end of the road.
All of it disappeared beneath the simple heat of another person wanting her.
Ethan broke the kiss just long enough to look at her.
“Still sure?”
Olivia nodded.
“Yes.”
This time, when he kissed her, there was nothing hesitant about it.
She felt his hands slide beneath her coat, warm against the cold skin of her waist.
She laughed softly when he backed her against the door.
“What?”
“You're very sure of yourself.”
“I'm trying not to ruin the moment by overthinking.”
“That makes two of us.”
His forehead rested briefly against hers.
“Good.”
The rest of the night unfolded without promises.
No declarations.
No questions about tomorrow.
Just two strangers deciding, for a few precious hours, that tomorrow could wait.
Later, wrapped beneath white sheets while the storm battered the windows, Olivia lay with her head against Ethan's chest.
His fingers traced slow circles over her bare shoulder.
She listened to his heartbeat.
Steady.
Unhurried.
Safe.
It was a strange feeling.
She had spent so long being careful that she'd forgotten what it felt like to simply let herself want something.
She closed her eyes.
“Don't ask me about tomorrow,” she whispered.
Ethan's fingers paused.
“I won't.”
“And don't ask me about home.”
A moment passed.
“I won't ask.”
She smiled against his chest.
“Good.”
Outside, the snow kept falling.
Inside, Olivia finally slept.
She didn't see Ethan open his eyes.
Didn't see the faint crease appear between his brows.
Didn't see him stare toward the ceiling as though something about the night had suddenly become far more complicated than he'd intended.
And she certainly didn't see the moment he looked toward the bedside table, where his phone lay face down.
The screen lit briefly.
One missed call.
Then another.
Ethan reached for the phone.
He stared at the name on the screen for several seconds before turning it facedown again.
Whatever had brought him to Maplewood Hollow could wait until morning.
For tonight, he let himself believe that.
---
Morning came quietly.
Olivia woke to pale winter sunlight spilling through the curtains.
For several seconds, she didn't remember where she was.
Then she felt the warmth of the sheets.
Smelled cedar.
Remembered Ethan.
A smile touched her lips.
She turned toward him.
The other side of the bed was empty.
The smile disappeared.
She stared at the cold sheets.
“Of course.”
What had she expected?
Breakfast?
A sweet goodbye?
A phone number tucked beneath her pillow?
They were strangers.
They'd met because of a snowstorm and spent one reckless night pretending the rest of their lives didn't exist.
That was all.
It was supposed to be all.
Then she noticed the folded piece of paper on the nightstand.
Olivia reached for it.
Her heart gave an inexplicable little jump.
She unfolded it.
Olivia,
Last night was unforgettable.
But mornings aren't really my thing.
Safe travels.
—E
She stared at the note.
Then laughed once.
A short, humorless sound.
“Unbelievable.”
She crumpled the paper in her fist.
Of course he'd leave.
Of course he'd make it sound charming.
Of course she'd let herself forget for one night that men like Ethan didn't stay.
She climbed out of bed and gathered her clothes.
By the time she left the room, her expression was composed again.
She had a home to return to.
A father waiting for her.
A past she hadn't finished running from.
And absolutely no reason to think she would ever see Ethan again.
She had no idea how wrong she was.
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