All I want for Christmas is...You.

NAILA’S POV

A cold gust of wind brushed past my face, ruffling my hair as I pushed the door to the cabin open, the hinges creaking as I stepped inside.

Finally.

Warmth.

The room smelt of wood and the lingering smell of ashes. Just what I needed for a Christmas holiday.

Snow brushed against the fogged up windows, dimming the cabin as I collapsed onto a cushion, wrapping my coat tighter around my slender frame.

Seven freaking hours on a plane. One whole hour of paperwork to confirm that I had rented out the cabin for Christmas. Still boiling over the fact that I lost my only job and had to start over. What I fucking needed right now was a nap and some peace ofㅡ

My phone rang, breaking the silence.

Shit.

I scrambled for my bag, fingers trembling as I picked the call. “Hello?” I placed the phone to my ear, the phone's chill seeping into my skin.

“Oh hey, have you arrived?” Nadya’s voice came throughㅡ worried.

My eyes shut tight and I leaned back against the chair, feeling my heart constrict in my chest. “Yeah. Flight arrived about an hour ago. Had a delay trying to confirm my accommodation details. But I'm at the cabin now.” A pause. “It's really nice,” I whispered.

She listened carefully, not interrupting. She always did. Nadya Portmanㅡ the only woman who stayed after things got hard. She was like a big sister. The only person who made sense in the big jumbled mess that was my life.

The sound of a mug clinking against glass resounded through the phone before she sighed. “And are you sure that's where you wanna be? You could always still come stay with Paul and I. We wouldn't mind you staying over.”

A bitter chuckle escaped me. “And listen to the sound of you both fucking through the house? No, thank you.”

“Nailaㅡ”

“I'm fine.” I cut her off. “Seriously. I said I wanted to pick up the pieces of my life again, so here I am. Doing it. Colorado is still a fucking dream.”

Lies.

I mean the place was really beautiful but the memories? Not so pretty. Flashes of the doctor coming out of the operating room to tell us mum didn't make it, Dad running off to get married to a hot Hollywood chick, my highschool heartthrob that I broke up withㅡ Everything crashed down on me like a tidal wave.

Coming back here to ‘reconnect with my roots’ was definitely a bad idea for my mental health but that was fine. My mental health was already down the drain.

“How bad is the snow?” Nadya tried to change the topic and I could tell she wanted to put me at ease.

I just wanted to sleep.

“Nadya. I'm fine. There's a blizzard coming so… I'd really like to start a fire to warm up. I'll start going around the town in the morning after it's cleared up. Love you. Bye.” I blew a kiss and hung up before she could say anything.

Fucking finally.

The silence after hanging up was…holy.

I dropped my phone on the couch and stood, stretching my arms overhead while groaning like someone twice my age.

My gaze swept across the cabin again. You know what? This could actually work out really great.

This felt like something a depressed and unemployed 22 year old ㅡ meㅡ would be interested in on a normal Christmas holiday.

Fire. Warmth. Sleep.

I set my suitcase to the ground and tripped over it while trying to get to the fireplace. Of course I fucking did.

The fireplace stared back at meㅡ dead and cold. This had been Dad's job when I was younger, he had a whole ritual for making a fire. But right now, I only had a lighter and was just trying not to freeze to death.

I knelt down, getting to work as a few sparks lit.

C'mon. Don't die on me.

Finally, a flame caught and I leaned back, beaming with pride. “Aha, take that, Dad. Finally a self sufficient adult without you.”

Soon, the whole place would look like my dream getaway. Next: Unpacking.

I dragged my suitcase to the bedroom—if it could even be called that. It was a tiny room with a queen bed, checked blankets, and a dresser that looked like it had definitely witnessed a murder or two.

With a shake of my head, I opened the suitcase and immediately regretted my life choices. My clothes were a creased mess.

“Perfect. Just… perfect.”

I shook out sweaters, leggings, socks and I tossed them onto the bed. Then I found my bras and underwear and threw them aside too. I mean, I was alone in the cabin. No one was going to walk in and see my lacy black underwear hanging over the lamp or my bright red bra draped across the bedpost like some flag or something.

Just as I was looking for my chapstick in my purseㅡ a loud rap echoed through the cabin.

I paused, my panties hanging from my hand like an evidence of crime while I resisted the urge to bash my head against the wall before I stormed up to the front door and opened it, gaze landing on the caretaker who looked like a marshmallow in his oversized coat.

“Hello…” I poked my head outside, trying not to wince at the biting cold.

“Hey there,” he chirped. “I just want to make sure everything's working fine before the storm hits. The heater is working? water running? You have your bear horn?”

My brows lifted. “Bear horn?”

He nodded solemnly. “You know…they're shy most nights but you never knowㅡ”

“Sir,” I plastered my best customer service smile. “I'll make sure to let you know if anything is wrong after the storm. I'm fine now, thank you very much.” I shut the door before he could reply.

Good grief.

I trudged back into the room, picking up my lace bra lying lazily on the floor when I heard it again.

A fucking knock.

This time around, I shut my eyes and took a calming breath.

“You've got to be joking,” I muttered under my breath.

Calm down, Naila.

This was supposed to be about me. My escape. My reprieve from humanity. A peaceful Christmas holiday. Not a fucking ding dong ditch simulator.

I stomped toward the door, ready to unleash seven years of rage on whoever was there.

“Listen—” I snapped as I yanked the door open. “I said I’m fin—”

The rest of the sentence dissipated, stuck in my throat.

The cold hit me first, a rush of wind that made me shiver ㅡ Then him.

Snowflakes clung to his hair—dark brown, thick, messy like he’d just run his hand through it a thousand times. His jaw was sharper than I remembered, framed with a slight stubble. His eyes ㅡGod, those stupid honey warm eyes—widened the same moment mine did.

Holy fuck.

His gaze flicked behind me, taking in the cabin, then back at me with that same shocked expression.

“Naila?” he said slowly, his voice confused. Disbelieving. Soft.

And too fucking familiar.

I couldn’t breathe. My fingers went numb and my heart was thrumming loudly in my chest.

Because standing in my doorway, framed with light snow and unreal and painfully beautiful as I remembered—

Was Remy Sterling.

My ex.

The reason I left this fucking town.

The reason I promised myself I'd never come back until he left.

Which he did. Three years ago according to my sources.

What the actual fuck was he doing here?