Hollybrook without the snow is just a regular small town. But maybe that’s enough.

June: Off-Season

Alex is driving our rental car, one hand on the wheel, sunglasses on, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in weeks. He’d suggested we visit his family in Hollybrook soon after the Mother’s Day call with his mom.

“Mom’s been asking when we’re coming up for a visit,” he’d said casually. “I was thinking maybe we could visit in June. Would that work with your schedule?”

Six months ago, getting Alex King back to Hollybrook required a fake girlfriend and a business contract. Now he’s volunteering.

I’d nearly told him no. He planned to be gone for six days, which meant I’d miss work. I’d be quitting my job at the coffee shop in a couple of months, and I needed every penny I could make when I started nursing school at the end of August. But in the end, my co-workers, Maggie and Bethany, had convinced me to go.

“You need a break, Fin,” Maggie had said. “When was the last time you took an actual vacation?”

“Have you forgotten I took one last Christmas when I went to Hollybrook with Alex?” I countered.

“That doesn’t count,” Bethany said dismissively with a wave of her hand.

“I took time off from work and traveled,” I’d said. “Sounds like a vacation to me.”

“Alex paid you to be there. That was a job.”

“And she fell in love with her boss,” Bethany had said with a giggle.

Calling Alex my boss felt wrong. Sure, he’d hired me to pretend to be his girlfriend while he’d gone home for Christmas, but in the end, I’d become the real thing.

I’d opened my mouth to protest, but Maggie held up her hand. “If it’s money you’re worried about, you’re getting four weeks’ severance when you leave in August for nursing school. I’ve already talked to the owner about it, and he agreed.”

The owner off Beans to Go was a known tightwad, so I could only guess what Maggie had over him to get him to agree to such a thing. The firm look she’d given me made it clear she wasn’t discussing how she’d gotten me severance nor was she arguing about my vacation.

I knew when to pick my battles, so I’d simply given her the dates we’d be gone, then texted Alex that I was free to go. He’d purchased the plane tickets that afternoon.

Now, as we drive from the airport in Hartwell to Hollybrook, with the windows rolled down and the fresh air pouring in, the beautiful countryside whizzing by, I’m grateful that Maggie insisted I come. Other than last Christmas—which I still refuse to call a vacation—the last vacation I took was when I was in middle school when Mom and I went to Pensacola for a long weekend.

My phone buzzes. Mallory’s name appears on the screen and a grin spreads across my face. She’s already sent me at least a dozen today.

I literally cannot believe you’re going to be in MY town and I’m stuck in Burlington doing MARKETING for a YOGURT COMPANY!

I type back: It’s a great internship and you’re going to be amazing.

There were three dots for a good twenty seconds before her next text appeared.

I don’t CARE about being amazing. I care about going to the bookshop with you. That was OUR thing, Finley. I can’t believe you’re going without me.

Then seconds later, she sent: Also the yogurt is actually really good and I got a free case so maybe I do care a little…

I laugh out loud, and Alex shoots me a grin. “Mallory?”

“Of course. She’s threatening to drive down from Burlington.”

“That’s a two-hour drive.”

“She said, and I quote, ‘I will commandeer a yogurt truck if I have to.’”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Tell her we’ll FaceTime from the bookshop.”

I text Mallory: Alex says we’ll FaceTime you from the bookshop so you can tell us what to buy.

TELL ALEX HE’S THE SECOND BEST KING

“She says you’re the second best King.”

“Who’s first?”

“She didn’t specify, but I think it’s your mom.”

His lips purse and she shrugs. “Fair.”

***

We pull into Hollybrook just after noon, and the first thing I notice is the town square.

In June, the Christmas charm is absent from the square, but a farmers’ market is on one end. There are multiple stands selling produce and plants. One booth looks like it’s selling candles. About a dozen people are milling around.

It’s Hollybrook, but it’s not. Or it’s Hollybrook, but without the magic. No snow. No twinkling lights strung across Main Street. No sleigh rides or carolers or the smell of cinnamon and pine drifting over the square. The town I fell in love with in December was a snow globe. This is the same town, but the glass has been lifted off, the snow blown away.

I glance at Alex. His sunglasses are pushed up on his head now, and he’s looking at the square the way you look at a restaurant that changed its menu—like the building is the same but something essential is missing.

“It’s different than it was at Christmas,” he says. “How do you feel about it now?”

I know what he’s asking. Does it bother me that the Christmas magic is gone? “It’s June,” I say, then ask with a laugh. “I couldn’t expect reindeer, now could I?”

His gaze shifts to me. “Are you disappointed?”

“No,” I say.

What I don’t say is maybe just a little.

***

Valerie is standing on the porch when we pull into the driveway, which means she’s been watching from the window. She rushes down the porch steps and to the driveway to great us.

“You’re here!” she says, pulling me into a hug before I’ve closed the car door. She smells like rosemary and bread. “Oh, Finley, look at you. You look wonderful. Are you eating enough?” She turns to look at her son over the top of the car. “Alex, is she eating enough?”

“Mom, she eats fine.”

“I eat great,” I say into her shoulder, because she hasn’t let go yet.

She pulls back and cups my face with both hands, the way my own mother used to, and the gesture lands somewhere between warmth and ache. “We are going to have the best weekend. I’ve got the vineyard booked for tomorrow, and Dad’s grilling tonight, and I found this little antique shop off Route 9 that I’ve been saving for you—”

“Mom.” Alex hugs her from the side. “Breathe.”

“I’m breathing! I’m just excited.” She squeezes his arm. “Tyler’s inside. He drove up this morning.”

Alex’s eyebrows go up. “Tyler’s here? He didn’t mention he was coming.”

Valerie waves a hand. “Oh, you know Tyler. He just showed up. Said he had a free weekend and wanted to join the fun.” She says it lightly, but there’s something in her voice. Like she thinks there’s more to it.

Alex’s father, Dr. Bob, appears in the doorway. He’s quieter than Valerie but just as warm. He shakes Alex’s hand and then pulls him into one of those stiff, back-patting hugs that fathers do when they’re feeling things they don’t have words for. He gives me a gentle hug too. “Good to have you back, Finley.”

“It’s good to be back.” And I mean it. Alex’s mother has a way of making me feel like I belong here.

After we settle in and eat a lunch of deli sandwiches, Alex and I walk into town. His hand finds mine as we cross the yard, and I lace my fingers through his without thinking—no contract required.

We pass the spot where the ice rink was last winter. It’s just a flat stretch of pavement now. In December, this whole square was the heart of everything—the caroling, the tree, the market stalls, all of it. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. Maybe because the only reason I’d agreed to be Alex’s pretend girlfriend was because it was the quintessential Christmas town. It had been my mother’s dream for the two of us to have a real Christmas, complete with snow and all the trimmings. Mom didn’t get to experience a white Christmas, but I could.

Seeing the square where I’d started to fall in love with Alex bare fills me with nostalgia. 

I gaze up at him, my heart bursting with love. “This is where we went caroling.”

Alex leans back his head and groans. “Please don’t remind me. I hate caroling.”

“But you did it for me anyway.” I grab his arm with both hands and lean close. “For a guy who hated everything about Christmas in Hollybrook, you sure showed up that night.”

He’s quiet for a second, then: “That was the night I realized I was in trouble.”

I give him a puzzled look. “In trouble how?”

“In trouble like—” He glances at me sideways. “Like I’d agreed to a business arrangement and caught feelings. I didn’t have a clause for that.”

I bump his shoulder with mine. “You should have made provisions for that in our contract.”

His hand lifts to lightly cup my cheek as he stares into my eyes. “There’s no provision in the world that could account for you, Finley O’Brien.”

My face flushes and before I can respond, his face lowers to mine and his lips brush mine with a sweet kiss. When his head lifts, his gaze holds mine.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says softly.

I slowly shake my head, then one side of his mouth lifts into a sad smile. “I wish you believed in yourself as much as I believe in you. As much as Maggie, and Bethany and my whole family believes in you.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “Not your whole family. Your brother Grant doesn’t think much of me.”

He rolls his eyes good naturedly. “He’s an idiot. Who cares what he thinks.”

Grant still holds a grudge for his ex-girlfriend breaking up with him because Alex and I had claimed his and Alex’s shared childhood bedroom. But based on how awful Eloise sounds, one could argue Alex and I did him a favor.

We continue strolling through the square. The farmers’ market is winding down, the booths packing up what little inventory they have left. A few teenagers are sitting on the bench by the old gazebo, scrolling their phones. The Bavarian storefronts look the same—the timber framing, the painted shutters—but without the garland and lights, they look like houses instead of gingerbread.

We find the bookshop Mallory wanted us to visit, and the moment I walk through the door, I understand her excitement. It’s two stories with floor-to-ceiling shelves and the moment we walk in, I’m enveloped in a cozy feeling. I think this is the reason Mallory wanted to come with me—and then I glance at the checkout counter. A brown rabbit is sitting next to the register, nibbling on a carrot. No wonder she wanted to be with me so badly when I visited. She’s going to be furious I came in without calling her first.

“We need to FaceTime Mallory,” I say pulling out my phone and placing the call.

She answers right away, and I can see she’s outside. I hear laughter in the background.

“Where are you?” I ask, making sure I have a tight shot of my face.

She waves a hand in dismissal. “We’re hosting a kids and goat yoga/yogurt event.”

“A what?”

“Never mind,” she says. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, but things aren’t going as great as I hoped. Are you about to go into the bookstore?”

I cringe. “I already walked in.”

“Finley!”

“I know. I should have called you first, but now I see why you’re so excited about me being here.”

“You have to buy a book!” she says, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “The bunny hands you your receipt.”

“What? How?”

“Just do it,” she says and then I hear screaming in the background. She glances over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go. One of the goats is eating a kid’s yogurt.”

“Good luck.”

“Send me a video of the bunny!” Then she hangs up.

I glance over at Alex. “You caught all that?”

He’s grinning. “I’m surprised she didn’t try to get an internship here so she could spend the summer with the rabbit.”

“She tried,” a woman with snow white hair says as she passed by us. “Your mother said she couldn’t come home for the summer.”

“Really?” I asked in surprise, but the woman has already disappeared into the back of the store.

Alex shrugs. “Seems like a yogurt company in Burlington is a better marketing internship than at a small bookstore in Hollybrook.”

He has a point.

We spend the next forty-five minutes wandering around the store. We leave with four books, two romance novels for me to read during my down time on the trip and a biography Alex picked up about George Washington.

We stop for appetizers as restaurant just off the square called The Porch—and sit outside. I can see the hill where we went sledding in December which is now covered in wildflowers instead of snow.

And I love it.

Not the way I loved it in December—that was breathless, overwhelming, the kind of love that comes from seeing something you’ve dreamed about your whole life finally made real. This is different. This is the love you feel when the sparkle wears off and what’s left is still good. Still solid. Still somewhere you’d want to wake up any day of the week.

I can picture a life here. Not now—not yet—but someday. A porch. A garden. A slow, life that is driven by family, not the rat race.

Alex is quieter. He’s been quieter since we walked through the square. I wonder what he’s thinking, but I know him well enough to know he’ll tell me when he’s ready.

***

Tyler is in the back yard when we get home, nursing a beer and watching hummingbirds drink out of a feeder. I sit next to him while Alex goes inside to get a couple of beers for us.

I’ve always liked Tyler. At Christmas, he was the brother who called Alex on his bullshit—who cornered him about using me and threatened to make things unpleasant if he hurt me. He’s protective and principled in a way that reminds me of the best parts of Alex, minus the walls.

But this evening he’s different. Not bad different. Just…quiet. Like something’s bothering him. I consider asking him if he wants to talk about it, but Alex walks out the back door with the beers. He hands one to me and settles into a chair next to me. The fireflies have made an appearance, little pulses of light drifting across the yard. It’s an idyllic summer evening.

“So what’s with the surprise visit?” Alex asks, half-teasing. “You miss me?”

Tyler laughs. “I came to see Finley, not you.”

I worry Alex might get jealous, but he shoots his brother a grin and holds up his beer. “Smart man.”

Tyler sits back in his seat and takes a sip. As he lowers his bottle, he says, “I needed the quiet.”

Alex lets out a snort. “If it’s quiet you wanted, then good call coming on a weekend Mallory’s not here.”

Tyler laughs off his brother’s statement, but I hear the tightness in his voice when he says, “It’s changing,” he says. “Have you noticed? Downtown used to have that hardware store, the one with the cat in the window. It’s a candle shop now. And the mechanic’s shop on Route 7—Weston’s place—is for sale.” He shakes his head. “Somebody local should buy it. It’s a good shop and the locals trust it. If an outsider buys it, they won’t.”

“Since when do you care about a mechanic’s shop?” Alex says with a laugh.

Tyler doesn’t laugh back. “I used to work there every summer in high school. You don’t remember?”

“How could I forget?” Alex takes a drink. “You came home smelling like motor oil and Mom had a fit when you tossed a pair of greasy coveralls in the laundry.”

“Yeah.” Tyler is quiet for a long moment. “Those were good summers.”

The conversation moves on. Alex asks about Tyler’s engineering job, and Tyler gives polite answers reserved for business associates and polite cocktail party conversations. It’s good. It’s fine, same old thing. He asks about the classes I just finished in May. He’s warm and genuinely interested, but I can feel him only half here. The other half is somewhere else.

I don’t say anything. But I file it away, wondering if we have the kind of relationship that lets me ask him what’s really going on in his life.

***

When we go to bed, Alex is quiet. We’re in his room—the same room we shared for a couple of nights at Christmas. It feels different, which is to be expected. We were in a fake relationship, fighting feelings for each other, and now we’re in a committed relationship. Last December, I was mildly curious about him growing up in here, but now I want to know everything. But I can tell something’s off with him too. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, staring at nothing.

I sit next to him and wait. I’ve learned that with Alex, the words come if you give him space.

“I thought it would feel different,” he says finally.

“What would?”

“This. Coming back in the summer. I thought it would—” He runs a hand through his hair. “I thought if I came back when it wasn’t Christmas, that things would be different.”

“How so?”

He’s quiet for a moment then says, “I see why I left.” He doesn’t sound bitter “Hollybrook’s small. It’s slow. Everyone knows everyone. The biggest thing that happened today was a farmers’ market with twelve people and a dog.”

I want to argue and say, that’s the point, that’s the beauty of it. But he’s not wrong. Hollybrook is small. It is slow. And for someone who built his life around speed and scale and starting multi-million-dollar companies, small and slow might feel like going backwards.

He turns to fully face me. “I love you, Finley.”

I smile up at up him. “I love you too, Alex.”

“I know we’re still new, but there’s no doubt you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I can see us spending the rest of our lives together.”

I’m overcome with emotion and I say past the lump in my throat, “I can see that too.”

He leans over and kisses me. When he lifts his head, he says, “I think that’s part of the reason I wanted to bring you back now. So you could see Hollybrook without the Christmas details.”

“I didn’t fall in love with Hollybrook because of the lights.” I put my hand on his knee. “The lights were how I got here. But the reason I wanted to come back now is because of your mom’s hugs and your dad’s awful jokes and your sister threatening to hijack a yogurt truck to see me. It’s the covered bridge and the bookshop and the porch and the fireflies.”

He’s quiet for a long time. Not the uncomfortable quiet from earlier—more like something settling. “I know I just said the town’s small and slow, I think I want to move back here someday.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Would you be open to it at some point in the future?” he asks, hesitation in his eyes.

“Yeah.” I lean my head against his shoulder. “I think I would.”

“Moving away from everything you’ve ever known doesn’t scare you?”

“A little. But the good things usually do.”

He puts his arm around me and we sit like that, in the room where everything started, listening to the house settle and the crickets outside and the faint murmur of his parents watching TV downstairs. No snow against the window. No Christmas lights. Just a summer night in a small town where two people are figuring out where their future lies.

***

I’m up before Alex the next morning. I slip out of bed, grab my phone, and pad downstairs to the front porch.

The sun is just coming up, painting everything gold and soft. The air is cool, not cold—and the air smells like freshly cut grass. A robin is digging around in the yard looking for breakfast. The street is empty.

I sit in a rocking chair with my knees pulled up and my coffee from the kitchen—Valerie left the pot on a timer—and I watch the light change.

No snow. No glitter. No magic. Just a town waking up on a Friday in June. And I love it just as much.

My phone buzzes. Mallory.

Good morning from yogurt prison. What’s today’s agenda? Please tell me Mom is taking you to the vineyard. I need to live vicariously through you.

I smile and type back: Vineyard this afternoon. Your mom is VERY excited. She’s already talking about which wines to try.

She’s going to make you taste every single one and then buy a case. I’m warning you now.

I laugh out loud. I would expect nothing less.

UGH. I miss you guys. When are you coming back?

I take in the still sleeping street. The climbing roses on the side of the house. The family I’ve grown to love so much, sleeping inside.

Soon, I type. I promise.

The screen door creaks behind me. Alex, barefoot, his hair a mess, is holding a mug. He doesn’t say anything. He just sits in the chair next to mine, close enough that our arms touch, and watches the sunrise with me.

After a while, he says, “This is nice.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It is.”

And it is. Not the fairy tale. Not the snow globe. Just the real, quiet version of a place that changed my life, with the real, quiet version of the man who changed it with me. The magic was how we got here. But this—the porch, the coffee, the street turning gold—this is how we stay.