Page 15 of Sweet Silver Bells

CHAPTER TWELVE.

“ T hat one,” Hunter said to the jolly middle-aged man behind the counter, his face too close to the glass as he stared at the pastries on the other side.

“Good choice, that’s one of our specialties for the season,” the man said, grabbing the beige fluffy pastry topped with powdered sugar and candied oranges.

Hunter didn’t often explore the more tourist-focused shops on Main Street, but the nearest nursery in Stockbridge was only a few blocks away, and he was famished. If sweets were what soothed the tree siren’s stomach, then they would eat like kings today.

“Are you Klaus?” Hunter pointed to the wall sign, the store named Klaus’s Danish Bakery in bright, cheery letters. The man behind the counter lit up, his jolly cheeks perfect cherry circles, nodding enthusiastically.

“I am. It’s a busy season, so all hands on deck this week. We’ve got more than three hundred Kransekages to make before customers come in to pick them up for their holiday celebrations.”

“That’s amazing. This place is so great, though maybe not so great for my wallet,” Hunter said, pointing to another donut-like Danish topped with berries and cream.

“How many?” Klaus asked, chuckling.

“Let's get two of those as well.”

Klaus wrapped eight Danishes in a creamy cerulean box and tied them with a beige string. “Let’s get these in your car before the rain starts,” Klaus said, watching Hunter insert his credit card into the reader.

He looked out the glass windows to see the dark gray skies inching overhead.

“Nothing cozier than snuggling up on a rainy day and eating Danishes. Sharing them with someone special?”

Hunter took the box Klaus held out to him. “You could say that.”

“Judging by the blush on your face, I’d take a guess that they are really special.”

Hunter didn’t have the heart to tell Klaus that his face was red from the blistering cold winds whipping at his face as he walked the block to the storefront. Besides, he could be lying to himself. Olivia could only be described as special.

“She is,” Hunter finally said, waving and exiting the store. The ring of the gold bell above the door bid him farewell as he hurried to his car.

Hunter set the box on the passenger seat floor, wincing as his elbow knocked against a black, glossy pot jutting from the backseat.

It wasn’t alone. Three more crowded beside it, heavy and awkward, their bulk promising an unpleasant struggle once he got home.

One rogue pot had already escaped to the trunk, rolling and thumping with every turn.

Each distant thud spiked his pulse as he waited to hear one shatter and break.

Part of him hoped Olivia was still at the window, staring out at the tree in his yard. It had been so long since he’d come home to someone, and the thought alone stirred small butterflies deep in his stomach.

But coming through Market Street today had reminded him of the cost of ignoring warnings.

The general store was boarded up now, caution cones and tape forcing pedestrians to weave around it—a silent memorial.

Flowers wilted in the cold, hand-painted signs faded by the season, and stuffed toys sagged under melting snow, all a tribute to the fallen officer.

The Mason family had no answers. And they never would. Only he and Olivia knew and ever would know.

She’s a murderer, and you don’t care. She’s a murderer, and you didn’t turn her in.

Of course, he cared. He cared about her too much.

That scared him. It shook him to his core.

It was so right, mysterious, and because of his never-ending grief, because of the lifeless person he had morphed into in the past few years, this all felt wrong.

A woman who piqued his interest, made him curious, was filled with every red flag possible, a nurturing that couldn’t be pure evil.

She was scared once, too. The nonchalant sinisterness that rose to the surface, gleaming from her eyes in sneaky one-second intervals, only existed because she was once fighting for something.

Isn’t that how all villain origin stories began?

He’d have to see if his comic book collection was still in that box in his parents’ attic.

She could not like you. She could be using you.

Hunter could not get past the thought, a blinding archway inviting him into the world that was Olivia. He would go through it, protecting his heart, protecting Sarah’s memory, keeping his distance while continuing to be a gentleman.

She’s yours.

Hunter laughed out loud at his own jumbled, contradicting thoughts.

The car moved forward with his foot pressing against the gas pedal, wheels spinning on slush and ice until he pulled back out onto the salted, snow-plowed road.

He got stuck behind a car going fifteen miles under the speed limit as the clouds opened up, letting the rain drizzle down, a light mist that would get heavier as he gripped the steering wheel and tried to control his road rage.

We live in Massachusetts—how can you be scared to drive in the weather?

When he finally made it and turned down his street, the rain had progressed into a violent dumping.

His windshield wipers struggled to catch up.

Hunter let out a yelp, swerving the car, stepping on the brakes in panic when he noticed a figure standing in the middle of the road, nearly blending in with the rain, with the doom and gloom of the day.

He opened his car door and let out his frustrations.

“What the heck are you doing? Are you trying to get killed, you idiot?”

“Your tree is so melancholy that it called on the sky to cry, to ask for attention.”

Olivia.

Hunter’s eyes quickly looked over to his house, only a few lots down, to make sure it was still standing. It looked the same from where he stood. The tree was also unchanged. The front door was wide open, the rain spilling onto his already damaged, old wooden flooring.

Olivia was soaked from head to toe, the thick sweater dress retaining water that streamed off a seam on her thigh. She didn’t shiver despite the bluish tone to her cheeks; she only smiled as she tilted her head back, letting her arms stretch wide as she began to turn and dance.

“What are you doing?” he asked, walking towards her, his car in park but still running, the engine purring under the sound of heavy droplets against metal, against the pavement, and houses around them.

“You reminded me that I was hungry,” she shouted, spinning, swaying, water puddling at her feet while she kicked and stomped with elation. She hummed, and Hunter watched as the trees and bushes in yards nearby seemed to lean in towards her, as if they were waiting for something.

“In this world,” he said, putting his hand out and gripping her by the arm, “we don’t get our nutrients from the rain.”

Olivia stopped moving, her smile wiped as she looked down at his hand gripping her.

"Everything grows because of rain."

“I’m sorry,” he said, letting go. He’d gotten lost in the moment, casually touching her like they had known each other their entire lives. “I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted to get you into the warmth.”

Instead of pulling away, Olivia shuffled in towards him, her fingers finding his as she raised them, two star-shaped hands, wet, cold palms touching. Hunter curved his fingers in, intertwining with hers as rain dripped off his nose, soaking through his coat, his pants.

He could still smell her, even in the downpour.

That warm earth smell brought him relief, any worry he had going away, as if her song were casting a spell over him again.

This time, there was no song, no haze. There were only the deep, dark eyes that stared into his, that bore into his soul.

It was as if she had been waiting one hundred years for him.

“Where else can I absorb more nutrients?” she asked.

Was she breathless? Panting under her words?

Or was that him?

Olivia pulled her hands down to her sides, bringing his with her as she came into him, no more space separating them, her chest pressing against his, her chin raising to his.

Hunter succumbed to how she felt against him, how he was putty in her hands.

He surrendered. There was no going back after this.

Hunter placed his lips on hers. This kiss was something new.

It felt like electricity zapping him as he stood in a puddle.

She’s yours.

It was as if it were the very first, a kiss that confirmed he was choosing to be a different man, a different person.

This kiss would ensure that he needed to take action, be proactive, and take care of the beautiful, strange creature that trusted him enough to follow him into a world that was not hers.

She baited him, staring at him with those longing, thick, wet eyelashes, inviting him in.

She wanted that kiss, too. She wanted him.

She saw something in him. Olivia saw something that he himself could not see.

Whatever it was, he could learn, change, and become better.

He could bring that out of himself and let the entire world see that he got a second chance, that Hunter was worthy of life.

You can do this. You can move on.

Their lips pulled apart. Hunter smiled, his cheeks heated, his heart open as he stared into the danger he could not escape.

She needed him.

He needed her.

It was that simple.

“I’m not sure that filled me.” Olivia smirked.

Hunter wasted no time. He needed no more of an invitation as his hand moved to the back of her head, her wet hair still silky but tangling at his aggressive movement.

He crushed his lips to her as their momentum built, as their mouths moved together, a tango that was desperate, dark, but so fulfilling that Hunter might never be able to come back up for air again.

A light moan came out of Olivia which sent Hunter into a spiral, a frenzy as he worried that he might devour hers right there in the middle of the street, in the puddle that they stood in as neighbors peered through their windows and watched as for the first time in years, Hunter came alive, found himself once more, found himself in her.

Honk Honk Honk

Olivia jumped up while still entangled in their kiss, and he held her tighter, closer, protectively as their lips broke. Hunter looked to the left to see an angry elderly woman sitting in her car, unable to get around his vehicle in the single-lane residential street.

“You’re bothering people.” She rolled her window down, shouting through heavy rain. “Move your car.”

Olivia giggled, and Hunter could breathe, breaking free from the moment that had wrapped around them.

“I'm sorry,” he said, holding a hand up to her. “Come sit in the car with me; I have to park.”

The two marched through pools of water on the pavement, Hunter sitting in the driver's seat just in time to watch Olivia’s surprised face as she nearly stepped on the box of Danishes on the floor.

Hunter grabbed the box, holding it with his right hand over the center console so she could sit, and began to pull the car into his driveway. The rain had melted away most of the snow as the unhappy woman sped by unnecessarily fast.

“Look at these pots,” Olivia said, her face lighting up. “You got these for me?”

“Yes, and that’s not all,” Hunter said, opening the Danish box. “I got some nutrients. Well, health bloggers will argue that these aren’t nutrients, but I hope you like them anyway.”

"Health bloggers?" She blinked at them, a bit confused, but there was no denying the elation beaming through her, as if she were trying to summon the sun.