Truman walks away and I turn back to my friends and Hunter.

Hunter. The bad boy from the other side of the tracks. The one who held my heart and broke it. The one who didn’t keep his promises but whose kisses I can’t seem to get out of my mind.

He is here.

Sarah and Lila understand the weight of this. I moved back in town a few months ago but they know the long history this mountain holds for me.

I was the daughter of the town preacher, and now, Truman works at the same church as a new pastor in training, having just completed seminary. Which is where we met … and where I pretended to fall in love.

Moving here made sense. I was done with my degree, and Truman was moving to my hometown and so … here we are. And so is Hunter.

“I think we’re just gonna pop over to the bakery for those cookies,” Sarah says. “But we’ll see you at the dance, right Hunter?”

He nods gruffly and they walk away, heads close together, already discussing all the implications of Hunter returning to town.

“You’re volunteering?” he asks, jutting his chin out toward the line of kids eagerly awaiting a photo with Santa,

“I’m the new hospitality chair for Mistletoe. ”

“They teach that at bible college?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say twisting my lips. “Do unto others, that sort of thing.”

“Suits you,” he says, his hand moving to my shoulder, his thumb brushing against my cheek. It’s hard to breathe with him so close. With him here, next to me. His touch, even through all these layers is like a jolt of heat. Electricity.

“I should get back. I have a few more hours for the shift.”

“Of course.” Hunter steps back, his hands now shoved in his coat pockets.

“Will you be in town long?” I ask, knowing there is a hopeful tone to my voice. I don’t try to stop it. I want it to be heard.

“I hope so, Holly Saint Claire.”

“I hope so too.”

At that, Hunter walks away, and I return to the line of eager children. But my eyes follow Hunter as he weaves through the crowds of shoppers. My eyes follow Hunter’s, knowing my heart has never once looked away.

“That was a lot of fun,” I tell Todd as he pulls off his white wig and beard. He’s normally the cocky bar owner in town, but with the beard and Santa suit he comes off as a jovial St. Nick.

“The kids are cute. Not that I want any of my own, anytime soon — but they were pretty adorable.”

“They loved your hot cocoa mix,” I tell him as we put our costumes in the Mistletoe Community room closet. “Though I don’t understand why you don’t want Mistletoe to list you as a sponsor.”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Maybe you just need to meet a nice girl,” I tell him as I zip up my coat. “Settle down, have a family. You play so hard.”

He smirks. “Is that what you plan on doing with Truman?”

I swallow, averting my gaze.

Todd laughs. “That’s what I thought. You talk a big talk, but then I saw the way you got all flustered with that new guy in town today —”

“He’s not new in town. He’s from Mistletoe.”

“Oh yeah?” Todd and I step out into the frosty air. “So the two of you have a past?”

Snowflakes fall and the Christmas lines that criss-cross Main Street are lit. The town looks like a magical wonderland.

“It’s complicated,” I tell him. “He was my foster brother … and … well … we just have history.”

Todd smiles, and I know he is holding something back.

“Just say it,” I groan.

“Look, I’ve known you a few months, Holly. And in that time I’ve never once seen you blush in the presence of Truman. But you walked back to the queue of kids today all hot and bothered. You like that guy. Admit it.”

I pull on my mittens, wanting to tell Todd he’s a liar. But he isn’t and he knows it.

“Look,” Todd says, softening his stance. “You’re a sweetheart. But even girls deserve to make Santa’s naughty list every once in a while.”

I scoff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Todd lifts his brows, pulling down his black beanie. “It means sometimes you have to follow your heart. And your heart isn’t always sugar. Sometimes it’s spice.”

I laugh. “You are arrogant. The newest bachelor in town giving out relationship advice. It’s pretty bold.”

“Call it what you want, Holly. I just think if you really loved Truman you’d be a Christmas bride. What are you waiting for?”

“I’m waiting for…” I bite my bottom lip. Truman is ready for marriage. He’s proposed. Twice.

I tell him I’m not ready. That we should date longer first. That we just moved to a new town.

But they’re all excuses.

“Hey,” Todd says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time because a girl like you should get her Christmas wish.”

I blink back my emotions, surprised that I’m getting all vulnerable with a guy like Todd. Truth is, he’s hit he nail on the head, said the thing my friends are too timid to put words too.

What exactly am I doing with Truman Prestley?

“I’ll see you at the dance,” I tell Todd.

“Sorry if I got a little preachy.”

I smile easily. “Hey, I grew up as the preacher’s daughter, I can handle it.”

We part ways and I head through town toward my father’s — I mean my house. On the way there I pass the cemetery and I pause when I see Hunter kneeling in the snow.

I watch him, wondering if he’s still the Hunter I fell hard for all those years go. The man has doubled in size — his shoulders so broad, his stature so demanding—but part of me can feel our connection just like always. His dark grey eyes so brooding and mysterious. Storm clouds that never seem to break.

I step toward him in the graveyard, not wanting to interrupt, but also, unable to help myself.

It’s Hunter. My Hunter.

He doesn’t have any social media, has zero footprints on the Internet. He vanished without a trace.

Now he’s back.

Kneeling before his mother’s grave and my heart aches, thinking of my own father who is also buried here.

Both of us orphans.

My foot snaps a twig and he looks up, surprised, but then he sees it’s me and the surprise is gone. It’s like he was expecting me. He stands, dusting the snow from his dark denim jeans.

“You brought her roses,” I say, eying the bouquet he has placed at her headstone. “Her favorite.”

“You remembered.”

“I remember everything,” I tell him. “It’s you who forgot. Forgot me.” I know there is bitterness to my words but I can’t not say them, speak the truth.

“I had to go. I was trying to do right by you. By your father.”

“What does my father have to do with any of this?” I ask.

Hunter frowns. “He has to do with everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“He died, things changed. You had to leave for college and so I had to go too. I was trying to protect you.”

“How? By leaving me alone in my grief, for disappearing when I needed you the most?”

“Your father wanted me gone. I figured the least I could do was grant him his dying wish.”

“My dad wasn’t right about everything.”

“He was right about me though. I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Why did you come back?” I ask him, wishing he would pull me into his arms and never let me go. Todd was right. “I mean, really? Why did you come home?”

He looks at me and I know my answer.

“For you, Holly Saint Claire. Your father was wrong. It’s always been you.”