First Kissmas

5. Courtney

5

COURTNEY

T he further we get from Mudsbury, the more my shoulders relax, the weight of my troubles lifting with each mile marker we pass. After hours of watching unfamiliar landscapes blur past the window, we finally reach Fairhope. The sight of the small coastal town steals my breath away—it’s exactly like the magazine photo I’ve been dreaming of for the past year, all quaint storefronts and harbor views with fishing boats bobbing gently in the distance.

But my excitement for the fresh start is tinged with anxiety. I need to find housing and work fast. And guilt weighs heavily on me—Ryder has done so much for me, driving me all this way. I sneak a glance at his profile as he navigates the unfamiliar streets. His jaw is set with determination, hands steady on the wheel just as they were that first night he picked me up.

My attention drifts back to the storefronts we’re passing by. A three-story brick apartment building catches my eye, with a sign out front in faded red letters advertising an apartment for rent. I point toward the sign. “Can we stop?”

Ryder smoothly pulls into an open spot. Before I can reach for the door handle, he’s already out and scanning the street, his broad shoulders tense as he takes in every detail of our surroundings. The protectiveness is sweet, but it also reminds me that soon he’ll drive away, back to his peaceful life on the mountain.

He opens my door with a gentle smile. “Coast is clear.”

I find the building manager’s buzzer, pressing it before I can overthink it. It takes a while before a gruff voice crackles through the speaker. “Yeah?”

“Hi, I’m here about the apartment for rent?”

A sigh. “Give me a minute.”

Heavy footsteps approach from inside, and then the door swings open to reveal a middle-aged man in a worn denim button-down, looking slightly annoyed at having his afternoon interrupted. His expression shifts as he takes us in.

“You two looking for a place together?” He gestures between Ryder and me. “Because I’ve got a bigger unit opening up next month that might suit you better?—”

“Just me, actually.” The words come out too quickly. But the manager’s assumption sends an ache through my chest. I imagine sharing a home with Ryder, waking up to his smile every morning, building a life together—a fantasy I can’t afford to indulge in, especially since he’s made it clear with his careful distance that our kiss was just a moment of impulse. He’s been different since then, more reserved, maintaining a buffer of space between us. Not that I blame him. I’m young, inexperienced, carrying too much baggage.

The manager shrugs. “Single’s fine too. Follow me.”

We climb two flights of worn wooden stairs. Ryder stays close behind me, and I can feel the tension radiating from him as he assesses every corner, every shadow.

The apartment is on the third floor, tucked at the end of a long hallway. When the manager unlocks the door, my heart leaps. The space is small, just one main room with a tiny kitchen alcove and a separate bathroom. The hardwood floors are scratched, the paint is chipping in places, and the windows could use a good cleaning. But sunlight streams through those windows, filling the space with warmth, and all I can see is possibility.

Freedom.

“Are the utilities included in the rent?” I ask.

“Heat and water are. Electric’s on you.” The manager leans against the doorframe. “Laundry room’s in the basement, two dollars a load. Building’s secure, good locks. No pets, no smoking.”

While I peer into kitchen cabinets and check the water pressure, Ryder examines the locks on the windows, checks the smoke detector, and inspects the radiator.

“How’s the neighborhood?” he asks.

“Quiet. Mostly retirees and fishermen’s families.” The manager scratches his chin. “Had one break-in about five years ago, but we upgraded all the security after that. No trouble since.”

I run my hand along the kitchen counter, imagining making coffee here in the mornings, coming home after work to a space that’s entirely mine. No one monitoring my movements, no one questioning my choices. The thought alone makes the apartment feel twice its actual size.

“I’ll take it,” I say, before doubt can creep in.

The manager nods. “I’ll need first and last month’s rent up front.”

My stomach tightens. “Is cash okay?”

He studies me for a moment, and I force myself not to fidget under his gaze. “Don’t care how you pay, long as you pay on time.”

I dig into my backpack for my envelope of carefully saved cash, counting out the required amount. My savings take a significant hit, but it’s worth it for this first taste of real independence.

The manager disappears to his office to get the paperwork, leaving Ryder and me alone in what will be my new home. I walk to the window, taking in the view of the street below. Other homes line the opposite side, their holiday decorations twinkling even in the midday light.

“Perfect spot for a Christmas tree,” Ryder says, gesturing to a corner near the window.

I turn to find him watching me, his expression soft in a way that makes my heart somersault. But then his features shift to something more neutral, that careful distance settling between us again.

The manager returns with a stack of papers, and I sign on every line he points to. With each signature, the reality sinks in deeper—I’m really doing this. Starting over. Building something new.

“Welcome to the building,” the manager says, handing me a set of keys before he leaves. “Rent’s due first of the month. Any problems, my apartment’s right off the lobby.”

Standing in the center of my empty apartment, I clutch the keys. My first real place, all my own. But I can’t fully celebrate yet—I need work, and soon. My remaining cash won’t last long.

“I should start looking for jobs,” I say. “Ryder, thank you so much for everything. You should head back before it gets too late.”

“I’m not leaving until I know you’re set up with work.” His voice carries that tone I’m learning means there’s no point arguing.

I shake my head. “That could take days.”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Then I guess I’ll be here for a few days.”

“You can’t put your life on hold for me.”

“My life will be just fine.” He moves toward the door. “Come on. Main Street’s only a few blocks away. Might as well start there.”

The walk gives me a chance to really see my new town. A salt-tinged breeze moves through my hair, and seagulls drift above the buildings. Every shop we pass has some kind of Christmas decoration in the window—wreaths, lights, painted snowflakes. It feels worlds away from the oppressive shadow of my brother’s house.

We’re passing a diner when the smell of grilling burgers hits me. My stomach growls loudly enough for Ryder to hear.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Ryder asks, already moving to open the front door.

“Sure, but it’s my treat. To thank you for everything.”

He shakes his head. “Not a chance. Come on.”

The diner’s warmth wraps around us as we step inside. Christmas music plays softly, and a small tree covered in silver tinsel sits in the corner. A waitress in a Santa hat hurries past, calling out, “Grab any open spot, I’ll be right with you!”

We slide into a booth, and I can’t help but notice how Ryder positions himself to see both the entrance and the kitchen doors. Even here, he’s looking out for me.

The waitress swings by with menus. “What can I get you folks to drink?”

“Coffee, please,” I say.

“Make that two,” Ryder adds.

While she’s getting our coffee, I study the menu but find my attention wandering to Ryder instead, eyeing how his large hands hold the laminated menu and how his dark hair falls across his forehead when he looks down. The fabric of his shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms.

I force my gaze back to my menu, cheeks warming. I shouldn’t be looking at him like that.

When the waitress returns with our coffee, I take the opportunity to ask about work. “Are you hiring by any chance?”

She pauses, studying me with new interest. “Do you have experience?”

“No, but I’m a fast learner.”

“Hmm.” She taps her pen against her order pad. “We actually do need someone. Juniper just left to have her baby. I was hoping for someone with experience, but...” She gives me another considering look. “You seem like you’ve got a good energy about you. Tell you what—come in at seven a.m. on the day after Christmas. We’ll do a trial run.”

My chest floods with relief. “Really? Thank you, I’ll be here.”

After she takes our orders, Ryder smiles at me. “Look at you, being resourceful on your first day in town.”

“More like desperate.” But I can’t help smiling back.

The food arrives quickly—a burger for him, chicken sandwich for me. As we eat, a new Christmas song plays overhead, drawing my thoughts to what day tomorrow is.

“What are your Christmas plans?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

Ryder takes a sip of coffee. “Nothing too involved. I have a tradition of making beef stew and taking a long walk around my property.”

“That sounds lovely.” The image of spending Christmas with him fills my mind—helping him cook, walking together through the snow. But it’s an impossible fantasy. I check my watch, pushing the thoughts away. “I should probably try to get a few things for my apartment before everything closes.”

Ryder nods. “We can check out that home goods store we passed.”

Guilt gnaws at me as I realize how much of his day I’ve already taken up. “You really don’t need to stay any longer. I have a place to live and a job lined up. You can go. Really.”

But he just smiles gently, stirring his coffee. “I’ll head back after we find you some basics for your place.”

An hour and a half later, we’re hauling my purchases up the flights of stairs to my apartment. I wasn’t able to afford much—an air mattress, a few cooking tools and dishes from the discount bin, and a few other necessities. But it’s enough to get by until my first paycheck. The bare minimum needed to start a new life.

“Last bag,” Ryder says, setting down a shopping bag I don’t remember packing at checkout. Curious, I peek inside and find a collection of Christmas decorations: string lights, shimmering glass ornaments in red and gold, lengths of garland, and a small tabletop tree. Each item has been chosen with obvious care, and it’s just enough to make an empty apartment feel like Christmas.

“You got all of this for me?” I ask, emotion filling my chest. No one has thought about Christmas for me since my parents died. Eli treated it like something to get through.

“Couldn’t let you spend Christmas in your new place without some decorations, right?” Ryder’s voice is tender, almost shy, as he runs his hand through his hair.

Without thinking, I throw my arms around him. “Thank you.” The words feel inadequate—between the rides in his truck, the protection, and his unwavering support, he’s done so much for me.

Ryder’s body goes stiff against mine, reminding me of all the reasons I shouldn’t be hugging him like this. I need to be mindful of the careful distance he’s maintained, the way he’s made it clear that this is about helping someone in need, nothing more. I step away quickly, my face burning. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have?—”

“It’s okay.” His voice is tight, controlled, the tenderness from moments ago replaced with something more guarded. “But I should get going.”

“Right. Of course.” I nod. “Drive safe.”

On his way out, he pauses at the door, his hand resting on the handle. The afternoon light catches the calluses on his hands—working hands that have been so gentle with me. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. I mean that.”

“Thank you, Ryder. Thank you so, so much. For everything.” I pour every ounce of gratitude I can into the words, hoping he understands what his kindness has meant to me.

When the door clicks shut behind him, the tears I’ve been holding back spill over my cheeks. My throat burns as I press my palm against the door, his footsteps fading down the hallway.

Fuck. Why does this hurt so much?

I can’t seem to move away from the door, can’t bring myself to turn around and start my new life. The apartment behind me represents everything I’ve dreamed of—freedom, independence, a fresh start. But right now, all I can think about is what I’m losing.

Despite knowing it’s pointless, I yank open the door and race down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

But when I burst out onto the street, Ryder is already gone.