The morning dawned pale and cold, the sun peeking weakly through the heavy gray clouds. Holly rubbed her hands together as she stared out her window at the snow-covered landscape, still tinged pink with the last remnants of dawn. The world outside looked quiet and peaceful, but inside her chest, her heart was anything but calm.
Last night felt like a dream. Jack’s apology, his words, the way his lips had captured hers in the falling snow—it all felt too perfect, too fragile, like something that might slip through her fingers if she held on too tightly. But it was real. She knew it was real. And the fact that Jack was trying—that he’d let her see him, even just a little—meant everything.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, and Holly turned just as the door creaked open. Jack
