"Was there—?" Damien asks the second I step back into the living room wrapped in a warm robe with my hair still wet from the shower.

"A whole bunch of gingerbread in that room?" I finish his question for him. "There was indeed. Smelled delicious, by the way."

He steps into me, reaching his hands out and then returning them to his side.

"Won't you consider staying for dinner?" he whispers, eyes not leaving mine.

"I don't think it's wise. If I stay for dinner, I might never leave. Your dad seems like a real charmer."

"It's him you're worried about then?"

Is he getting closer to me? His presence is invading all of my senses, overheating my skin and blocking out the sun from my eyes. All I see is him.

"No," I breathe, acutely aware of his freshly showered scent so close. "I'm very worried about you. And what staying here means for a heart already scared to leave. I need to go before it gets worse. You understand."

He sighs. "I wish I could tell you things would be different. That I could be the man you want."

"I know. But at least we both have an excellent story we can tell. And if you ever need someone to vouch for your wilderness skills, you know where to find me. So it wasn't a complete waste."

I don't wait to hear what he says, spinning out of his gravitational pull and heading straight for my radio to contact Cliffside Lodge and let them know what needs replacing.

Once I'm done rattling off the list and explaining what happened with the key at the cabin, Bee's voice comes through the line crystal clear. "Copy that, good buddy. Glad to hear your voice again."

"Bee! I thought you had today off."

A small crackle greets me before she connects. "Yeah, I had the day off. Or I was supposed to before a huge winter storm rolled in and a couple people up and disappeared. So I wanted to be here for the afternoon to welcome them back."

"Just me," I correct. "You'll only be welcoming me. I'm doing my last walk through now and I'll talk to the clients to see if there's anything else they need. Standby."

"Ten four, friend."

She's obsessed with radio speak but she does not know how it works.

I wander around the corner into the kitchen. "Well, Atlas, it looks like my ride is on its way up as soon as we can decide what we need. Are there any supplies you need for the next couple days? Again, we can come up whenever you need, but since they're making the trip anyway feel free to ask for anything, silly or otherwise."

He scrunches his nose, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. "You're leaving us before gingerbread decorating?"

"I'm long past the end of my shift, Atlas. I think it's best I get back down."

"We have food and lodgings here," he says. "And I've made way too much food. You are most welcome to stay."

"I know," I smile. "Truly, I feel the most warm welcome here. But it's really not appropriate. Thank you so much for the invitation."

"If you wish," he says with a nod. "If you won't be staying, I've got plenty of supplies for the two of us lads to rough it."

"We won't need to do any roughing," Damien says, entering the kitchen. "I've made sure we'll have everything we need."

"I can't believe you convinced Harley to set you up with Christmas decorations and baking."

"Oh, the baking is probably all dad. He stress bakes."

"We have that in common, Atlas," I say, turning back to face him. "But it smells like you're much better at it than I am."

I take the cookies he offers and snack on them while I radio Bee to let her know we're all set. He brings me another cookie to keep me company while I pack up my bag, and I take the opportunity to waste some time making a list of everything I have and what I need to replace.

I'm not avoiding anything. I'm just getting a head start on work I would normally do at home, but when I finally make it out of here, all I want to do is go home and sleep in a nice warm bed. And find someone who can wrap my arm properly.

My alarm goes off. Bee is almost here to collect me. I can hear the motor in the distance before I see the lights turn up the path, so I shove the last of my items into my pack and slide the list into the front pocket.

Atlas places a container of cookies at my feet. "At least take some with you," he says with a grin. "I made way too much."

"Thank you. I will. I'm sure I'll be the talk of the whole town with these beauties." I stand, picking up my coat and slinging it over my shoulders. "I think that's my ride."

Atlas doesn't even hesitate, pulling me into a warm strong hug. Damien stares at me from his chair at the kitchen island with so much yearning and need that I have to look away.

"Are you sure you don't want to share Christmas with us?" Atlas prompts again when I pull out of the hug. "It is such a small crowd with just the two of us. Your friend could come in for a bit, too."

He's so eager and full of Christmas spirit I almost agree. But I can't. I've gone too far already. No need to make this worse than it is.

I can't believe I got involved with someone who's leaving in the morning. Again. And all it took was a day and a terrible snow storm.

I take a deep breath and refuse to meet Damien's eyes, turning with a smile to the kind old man with no idea what he's doing. "We've got to get back, unfortunately. But I do hope you have an amazing time, Atlas. Thank you so much for your hospitality. This is the best Christmas Eve I've had in a long time."

"Me too," Damien says, pulling a smile onto his sad face, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I'll be sad to see you leave."

"We'll always have our snowstorm," I laugh, trying to keep it light.

"I know," he whispers, choking up. His father is politely trying to pretend he doesn't see any of this, but he's not the best actor. So he's resorting to sort of smirking while staring down at his feet.

"It was a pleasure to know you," I say, allowing my gaze to float to Damien's and swallowing the lump in my throat. "I hope one day we can both believe mistakes are okay."

"I—" He stops when there's a knock at the door. "I guess that's your ride. Thank you for the best hiking trip I've ever been on."

"Difficult competition," I joke. "But you're welcome. Next time maybe don't take the shortcuts."

The knock rings louder and Atlas clears his throat.

"Well, that's my cue. Merry Christmas, gentleman. Please call if you need anything." I fling the door open and pick up my pack with my good hand, trudging out into the snow and throwing my bag under the bungee cords in the trailer.

"Ready to go?" Bee asks, pulling her helmet on.

"I am," I reply, clipping my own helmet on and flipping the visor down. "Let's go home."

"I still have to work," she replies. "So first it's back to Cliffside Lodge."

"Yeah," I answer, eyes flitting back to the cabin, locking on Damien's face staring out the window after me with a look that matches how I feel.

I'm making the right choice, I remind myself. This is just a fantasy brought on by being too close to each other. Real life will wipe it away soon enough. This is the right choice.

So why does it hurt so much to watch him shrink into nothing in the distance?

And how much more would it hurt if I let him in any further before he left?

I made the right choice.

I pass the whole ride in silence, despite Bee's attempts at conversation. She tells me all about what happened when they lost contact with us and what they did to try to find us and how relieved she was to find the hidden fob had accessed the cabin. Finally, we reach the back door of Cliffside Lodge.

"So how was the night in the cabin?" she turns to face me and waggles her eyebrows. "I looked up our inventory up there and it's very small. Was Mr. Grumpy Gus too much to handle in such a small space?"

I shake my head. "No, he was alright. But it is very small. You're right."

My bag is heavier than I remembered when I sling it onto my back, trudging through the packed snow and inside Cliffside Lodge. So the second the heat hits me, I drop the pack on the floor and unzip my heavy coat, releasing my scarf from its suffocating grip on my neck.

"So? That's all. You learned no gossip at all? Why do I keep you around?" Bee asks, lugging her kit back into the staff room behind me. "You gotta take those opportunities for gossip, Amelia. How else am I supposed to get my entertainment out here? Harley won't even install a television for sports and always plays the same six songs on repeat. I'm starved."

"So this is all about you then?" I ask, only for a second forgetting my own struggles.

"Obviously." She takes a huge bite out of an apple. "What else would it be about?"

"You're the one managing to smirk at me while you eat an apple." I can't help but laugh at her. "You tell me."

She bites off another huge chunk of apple, looking me over up and down. "Nothing, then."

I'm sure I haven't heard the end of that, but I'll take the temporary reprieve. "Can you help me bind my shoulder when you're done?" I segue seamlessly into the next topic. "I bruised or sprained it or something so it's definitely not an emergency. But I notice it hurts less when I don't move it and it's not injured enough that I actually remember I shouldn't move it. So I'm hoping tying it down will help me to remember not to foolishly re-injure myself."

"Sure, yeah." She chucks the apple across the room and it bounces off the garbage can and rolls back toward us.

I pull out the first aid kit while she washes her hands, and she doesn't speak until I'm sitting on a table in my sports bra getting my arm strapped to my side.

"So, tell me about Mr. Grumpy Gus, then. How did he take things not going his way? These rich people usually throw certifiable fits. He definitely seemed like the type who'd make a good story."

"It was fine," I mumble, remembering the gentleness of his touch on my shoulder.

"Fine?" she confirms. "The man who dropped half a million dollars on an excursion was fine with it not going according to plan?"

"He dropped how much?"

"I might be exaggerating a little bit, but yeah, it was like the combined yearly income of everyone who works at this place.."

Oh, he is foolishly rich. And I am foolish to have not milked that for all it was worth. Why do I have to have a stupid heart trying to drag me into something I don't want or need? This could have been one of those amazing once a year night stands that's filled with fancy food and decadent hotels and I threw it away for my stupid heart.

I blow out a raspberry. "Fuck my life."

"Did I hurt you?" she asks. "I thought I was tying it off okay."

"It's not that it's just..."

"You have a thing for Mr. Grumpy Pants that you're refusing to tell me about?" She answers for me, cutting off the excess fabric and tucking the ends. "Or is it something else?"

My jaw might be on the floor. "How did you—?"

"You think Atlas and I don't know how to work the radios without you?"

"But I was there the whole time, except—"

"When you were both sent to take a shower. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered they were separate showers."

"Bee! You can't say stuff like that in our place of work."

"I can't?" She looks around. "Who's going to stop me?"

"Me. I'm going to stop you. You can't be saying stuff like that."

"I can when it's true."

"I am going to kill you."

"Are you? Or are you going to be really nice to me so I'll drive you back up that mountain?"

"Why would I—? No! I'm not putting myself in that position. I can't. Not again."

"That was years ago. And he was a jerk."

"You just said Damien is a jerk."

"Oh, so it's Damien, is it? What happened to Mr. Serrano?"

"Shut up." I throw a tank top on over my bra and then a loose shirt with flowy sleeves that let me put my arm through despite the strapping Bee did.

"You're really just going to let that go?" Bee presses. She's not going to let this go easily. "They invite you for the fanciest dinner you've ever witnessed in literally a mansion on your favourite mountain and you give it up to spend the evening with me sharing one pack of ramen in front of the fireplace we use because we can't keep the heat on? You must really be smitten with this one to run so far so fast."

"Hey!" I pick up the extra fabric laying beside me and try to throw it at her, but it just floats between us on an invisible breeze. "I'm not running away, I'm just..."

"Totally running away," she says, picking up an almond from the container I didn't see her collect and popping it into her mouth. "So the question is what are you going to do about it?"