Page 68 of Snowed Inn

“Thank you,” I say after we’d been driving in silence for several minutes.

“For what?”

“For showing me. For trusting me with it.” I hesitate. “I know it wasn’t easy.”

Jesse’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter. “I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

The implications of that statement hang between us, too significant to acknowledge directly.

I glance at him, at how his jaw tightens after the admission. Something about the way he said it—low, sincere, like it cost him something to vocalize it—makes my heart twist. He’s not trying to impress me. He’s not even trying to make me like him more.

He’s showing me all of it. The trailer. The mistakes. The garden and the good stuff too, but all of it wrapped together, the messy, unfiltered truth.

And it hits me then . . . he’s not doing this to draw me closer.

He’s doing it to scare me off. To give me an opportunity to run before he lets me into his heart.

I swallow, throat thick. The realization sneaks up like a slow-motion sucker punch. This isn’t just a tour of his past. It’s a quiet, painful kind of bravery I wasn’t expecting.

I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything at all. I just sit there beside him, heart thudding, hoping he doesn’t see how much that kind of honesty breaks me open in the best way.

Several moments of silence pass between us before I say, “I understand more about why you want to open the Mockingbird now.”

Jesse gives me a sidelong glance, clearly surprised by the shift in topic.

“It means a lot to me.” He exhales. “But it’s just a business idea.”

“No,” I say firmly. “It’s not just a business idea. It’s a mission. You want to help people, Jesse. That’s who you are. That’s why you want to do it.”

He doesn’t respond, but I catch the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth.

As we approach Harvest Hollow, the lights of Main Street twinkling in the distance, I find myself thinking about perception and reality. I’d originally dismissed Jesse as a simple bartender with a ball cap fixation. Now I know he’s so much more than that.

“You really should do it,” I say. “The Mockingbird is a fantastic idea.”

“You really think so?” The corners of his eyes crease. He’s staring ahead like he’s picturing the future.

“Absolutely! And I’d like to help in any way I can.”

Jesse glances at me. “Thanks, Maria. I appreciate your support.” He pauses for a beat. “Seriously. It means a lot.”

It’s just one simple sentence, but I hear what it actually means . . . I trust you.

And I know, with my heart doing something I’m not ready to name, that I trust him too.

Not just with a few secrets.

Maybe with something bigger.

Chapter 25

December 30 (later)

“Yes, everything is under control, El. I’ve got this. Don’t worry.” This is the hundredth time I’ve told her. But Ellie is a control freak. Especially when it comes to event planning.

“Yes, the guests are happy and taken care of,” I continue. “Yes, the party plans are on point. You gave me a bulleted list of all the vendors and phone numbers. How could anyone screw this up?”

Of course I haven’t told her about all the other plans we’ve put in place. Like the new cocktails and the DJ. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and sick people should be left alone to heal.