Chloe (Angel Institute #4)

Chapter 7

Seven

CHLOE

T he gentle hum of my laptop fills the cozy living room of my grandmother’s house as I pore over spreadsheets and inventory lists. A cinnamon and fir candle is burning on the coffee table, a gift from Rebecca that I’d initially dismissed as overly festive but now find oddly comforting. Outside, snow falls softly, blanketing Benton Falls in a pristine white coat that sparkles in the sunlight.

I can’t believe I’ve spent my day working on a toy drive, of all things. When I agreed to help Oliver at the community sing-along, I thought I’d just give him a few quick pointers and be done with it. But somehow—and thanks to Rebecca’s early morning visit and a box full of toys, followed by a call from Oliver—I’ve found myself completely immersed in the project, determined to make it a success.

As I input another donation into the system, I catch myself smiling at the thought of a child’s face lighting up on Christmas morning. The image catches me off guard, and I quickly shake it off. I’m doing this to help Oliver streamline his business practices, I remind myself sternly. Nothing more.

A knock at the door startles me from my thoughts. I open it to find Oliver standing on the porch, his arms laden with boxes and his cheeks ruddy from the cold.

“Afternoon, Chloe,” he says with that warm smile that never fails to make my heart skip a beat—although I would never admit that to anyone. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I’ve got some more donations for you to log.”

I step aside to let him in, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach as he brushes past me. “No interruption at all. I was just working on the inventory system.”

Oliver sets the boxes down and looks around the room, his eyes twinkling. “Wow, you’ve really turned this place into command central, haven’t you?”

I follow his gaze, suddenly seeing the room through his eyes. My laptop is surrounded by stacks of papers, sticky notes cover every available surface, and a large whiteboard I’d ordered online dominates one wall, covered in my neat handwriting detailing donation goals and distribution plans.

“I suppose I have,” I admit, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “I just want to make sure everything’s organized properly.”

Oliver’s smile softens as he surveys my work zone one more time. “How long have you been working on this?”

Shrugging, I close the door. “A few hours.”

“It’s amazing.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “The kids of Benton Falls are lucky to have you on their side.”

His words send a warm feeling spreading through my chest, one that I quickly try to squash. I’m not doing this for the kids, I tell myself. This is just a project, like any other.

“Yes, well,” I say, clearing my throat. “Speaking of the toy drive, we should probably go through these new donations.”

For the next hour, Oliver and I work side by side, sorting through the toys and logging them into the system I’ve created. As we work, Oliver regales me with stories about past toy drives and the children they’ve helped. Despite my best efforts to remain detached, I laugh at his jokes and hanging on every word.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Oliver says suddenly, setting down a stuffed reindeer. “The high school band is having their holiday concert tonight. They always collect toy donations at the door. I know it’s short notice, but would you like to come with me? You know, to oversee the donations and all that.”

I hesitate. Sheesh, how many Christmas concerts can one town have? And suddenly I find my instinct to decline warring with an unexpected desire to say yes. “I don’t know, Oliver. I’m not sure about another concert.”

“Come on,” his hazel eyes twinkling in persuasion. “It’ll be fun. Plus, we’ll be collecting donations. Who knows?” he beams. “You might even enjoy yourself.”

I sigh, knowing I’m fighting a losing battle. “Fine. But only to oversee the donations.”

Oliver’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

As he leaves, I stand at the window, watching his retreating figure until it disappears into the snowy night. A small voice in the back of my mind whispers that I’m in danger of caring too much, of letting myself get too invested in this town and its people. But for once, I push that voice aside and worry about the most pressing problem—What am I going to wear?

Fifteen minutes later, I stand in front of the mirror, frowning at my reflection. I’ve changed outfits three times already, unsure of what to wear to a high school band concert in a small town. I finally settle on a soft cashmere sweater and dark jeans, a far cry from my usual power suits but somehow fitting for the occasion.

At precisely seven o’clock, there’s a knock at the door. I open it to find Oliver standing there, looking handsome in a green sweater that brings out the flecks of gold in his eyes.

“Wow,” he breathes, his gaze traveling over me. “You look beautiful, Chloe.”

I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks, surprised at how much I appreciate his compliment. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

The drive to the high school is filled with comfortable conversation, punctuated by the soft strains of Christmas music from the radio. As we pull into the parking lot, I’m struck by the festive atmosphere. The school is decked out in twinkling lights, and families stream towards the entrance, many carrying wrapped gifts for the toy drive.

Inside the foyer is a hive of activity. A large Christmas tree dominates one corner, its branches laden with ornaments and twinkling lights. The evergreen scent mingles with the aroma of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies being sold at a nearby table.

Oliver guides me to a table set up for toy donations, where we’re greeted by an enthusiastic group of student volunteers. As we help them organize the incoming gifts, I’m surprised by how much I’m enjoying myself. The excited chatter of the students, the warmth of the community spirit, it all feels so... right.

Just as we’re finishing up, Rebecca appears, her golden hair catching the light as she weaves through the crowd towards us.

“Chloe. Oliver. I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, her smile bright. “Isn’t this wonderful? So many people have brought donations.”

I nod, surprised to find that I actually agree with her. “It is pretty special,” I admit.

Rebecca beams at me. “Oh, we should go in. The concert’s about to start.”

I nod and wonder how I seem to spend most of my time in Benton Falls with Rebecca, a girl I’m not totally convinced I really like. It’s like she’s got some weird agenda with me—like I’m her Christmas project.

Pushing the notion aside, we make our way into the auditorium, and I’m struck by the transformation. The stage has been turned into a winter wonderland, complete with sparkling fake snow and twinkling lights. The excitement in the air is palpable as parents and community members find their seats.

Oliver leads us to a row near the front, and I find myself sandwiched between him and Rebecca. As the lights dim and the first notes of “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.” fill the air, I’m surprised by the quality of the performance. These kids are good.

Throughout the concert, I find my foot tapping along to the music, a smile playing at my lips. During a moving rendition of “Silent Night,” I feel Oliver’s hand brush against mine on the armrest. Instead of pulling away, I let it stay there, enjoying the warmth of his touch.

As the last notes fade away and the applause dies down, I realize I’ve actually enjoyed myself. The joy on the faces of the students, the pride radiating from their parents, it all speaks to a sense of community that I’ve never experienced before.

“That was actually pretty great,” I say to Oliver as we file out of the auditorium.

He grins at me. “I knew you’d enjoy it. Hey, want to grab a hot chocolate before we head out? I hear the PTA makes a mean peppermint cocoa.”

I should say no. I should go home and get back to work. But the warmth in Oliver’s eyes and the festive atmosphere around us make me throw caution to the wind. “Sure, why not?”

We make our way to the refreshment table, where Oliver insists on buying our drinks. As we sip our cocoa—which is indeed delicious—we wander through the foyer, admiring the students’ artwork displayed on the walls. Somewhere in the distance, we hear a crash.

Oliver turns to me. “We better go see if someone needs some help.”

We head towards the noise and follow the crowd. A huge nutcracker had toppled over, and a woman was being attended to on the floor.

“That’s Sadie,” Oliver’s voice is laced with concern. “She’s our town librarian.”

An older woman, with silver curls and blue eyes peering above her glasses, approaches us. “The ambulance is on its way. Don’t worry, Officer Michaels has her.”

Oliver lowers his chin and exhales, reassured by the information. “Thank you, Mrs. Henderson.”

“I wonder what happened.” Oliver puts his hand on the small of my back, gently guiding me away from the crowd. “But if Ren’s there, I’m sure everything is under control.”

“Who’s Ren?” I move towards the donation table.

“One of our local police officers. He’s a great guy.”

This small town seems like it might fit in a snow globe, a world unto its own, where everyone seems to know and care about everyone. An itch manifests along my neck, scratching at the irritation. I think I might be allergic to this place.

“You know,” Oliver says softly, “I’m really glad you came tonight, Chloe. And not just because of the toy drive. It’s been nice spending time with you.”

Instantly, the itch is gone, replaced by a soothing warmth that has nothing to do with the hot chocolate spreading through my chest. “I’ve enjoyed it too,” I admit, surprising myself with my honesty.

Oliver’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the bustling crowd around us fades away. I lean towards him almost involuntarily.

But then reality crashes back in. What am I doing? I’m leaving Benton Falls after the holidays. I can’t let myself get attached, not to Oliver, not to this town, not to any of it.

I take a step back, clearing my throat. “We should probably start packing up the donations,” I say, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.

A flicker of disappointment crosses Oliver’s face, but he nods. “You’re right. Let’s get to it.”

As we work to box up the toys, a tense silence falls between us. I can feel Oliver’s eyes on me, but I keep my focus on the task at hand, afraid of what I might do if I meet his gaze.

It’s not until we’re loading the last of the boxes into Oliver’s truck that he speaks again. “Chloe,” he says softly, “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable back there. That wasn’t my intention.”

I sigh, finally looking up at him. The sincerity in his eyes makes my heart ache. “You didn’t,” I assure him. “It’s just... I’m not staying in Benton Falls, Oliver. After the holidays, I’m going back to my real life. I can’t... I can’t let myself get too invested here.”

Oliver nods slowly, but I can see the hurt in his eyes. “I understand. But Chloe, have you considered that maybe this could be your real life? The way you’ve thrown yourself into the toy drive, the connections you’re making here... it seems to me like you fit right in.”

His words stir something in me, a longing I’ve been trying to ignore since I arrived in Benton Falls. But I shake my head, pushing it aside. “This isn’t me, Oliver. The big city, the corporate world - that’s where I belong.”

“If you say so,” he says, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Just... promise me you’ll keep an open mind, okay? Benton Falls has a way of surprising people.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As Oliver drives me home, the silence between us is heavy with unspoken words and possibilities I’m too afraid to consider.

Back at my grandmother’s house, I stand on the porch, watching Oliver’s taillights disappear down the snowy street. The frosty night air nips at my cheeks, but I barely notice it, my mind whirling with conflicting emotions.

Part of me wants to run after Oliver’s truck, to tell him that maybe, just maybe, I could see a future here in Benton Falls. But the larger part, the part that’s protected me all these years, holds me back. Attachment leads to pain, it reminds me. Better to stay focused on my career, on the things I can control.

As I step inside, the warmth of the house envelops me like a hug. My eyes fall on the toy drive paperwork spread across the coffee table, and unbidden, an image of a child’s face lighting up on Christmas morning flashes through my mind.

For a moment, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to stay, to be part of this community, to build a life here with Oliver. The thought sends a pang through my chest, a mixture of longing and fear that leaves me breathless.

Shaking my head, I force the thoughts away. I’m a successful CEO. I don’t need quaint small towns or charming department store owners or the warmth of community. I’ve built my life on hard work and independence, and I’m not about to throw that away for some holiday sentimentality.

But as I get ready for bed, I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted inside me. The armor I once wore to guard my heart now feels heavy, suffocating the very thing it was meant to protect.

Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I hum “Silent Night,” the memory of Oliver’s hand brushing mine, sending a warmth through me that has nothing to do with my cozy blankets.

I fall asleep with the taste of peppermint cocoa on my lips and the echo of Christmas carols in my ears, my dreams filled with twinkling lights, children’s laughter, and a pair of warm hazel eyes that seem to see right through to my soul.

In the morning, I wake to find a text from Oliver: “Thanks again for last night. Your help with the toy drive means more than you know. Coffee later to go over distribution plans?”

I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the reply button. This is my chance to pull back, to reestablish the professional boundaries I’ve let slip. But I find myself typing: “Sounds great. Meet you at the cafe at 10?”

As I hit send, a small smile plays at my lips. Maybe, just maybe, I can allow myself to enjoy this Christmas in Benton Falls. After all, it’s only temporary, right?