The Snuggle Is Real (A Cozy AF Christmas 2)

I have a feeling whoever Max and Joe hired to come find me did their job. Only instead of taking me back to the guys and asking for a reward, they took the money and ran.They must have followed me from town to find me this fast.

I look around, wondering if someone is watching me. Knowing I can’t call the police — I don’t have a phone and even if I did, what would I say?

I need to keep moving. If someone found the car once, they could find it again. Find me. Take me back to Max and Joe, and make me pay.

I have six dollars to my name and hardly any gas in the tank.

Swallowing, I put the groceries in the seat next to me, then I pull out of the parking lot, praying for a Christmas miracle.Chapter TwoCozetteI turn right out of the parking lot, not wanting to get stuck on the freeway. Instead I turn toward Juniper Junction, a town I’ve never heard of with a sign on the side of the road telling me the population is 1200.

As I pass through it, I focus on breathing steadily. Reaching into the bag of groceries, I pull out the candy cane and unwrap it with one hand. It’s sweet and pepperminty and calms me down. I can handle this. I’ve been in more difficult situations and right now I just need to find a free place to sleep.

The town is adorable. And if I were living a different life, I’d walk down the sidewalk covered in snow and window shop. Wreaths are on each door, a tree lit in the center of town. There’s an ice skating rink and children laughing in a snowbank as they build a snowman.

It’s quaint and perfect and the kind of town where everyone knows your name.

What would that be like, to feel so safe that you could let down your guard?

I doubt I will ever know.

Turning on the radio, I drown out my thoughts with Christmas songs. I soon realize I’m driving up a mountain, and away from town, knowing the quarter tank will only get me so far. Praying that my Christmas wish will come true, I look down long driveways that have been carefully snowplowed, my eyes taking in smoke from chimneys and driveways filled with cars. I need the exact opposite. I need an empty house that someone forgot about.

There is a sign on the left with an arrow pointing to Prancer Place. The driveway hasn’t been cleared and that means either someone is up at the cabin alone and hasn’t ventured out, or no one is there at all.

The sky is growing dark and the gas tank is nearing empty. I don’t have a choice.

I take a chance and turn onto the narrow drive of Prancer Place, my heart beating fast as the cabin comes into view.

There is no car parked anywhere, and there is no smoke from the chimney, no lights on in the house.

I park my car behind a row of trees, needing this win — needing this place to be empty.

As I get out of the car and step through the foot of snow, I brace myself for the worst. I knock on the door, hard. When there is no answer, I press my face to the window and look inside. It’s hard to see with the sun setting, but I can make out furniture and a river rock fire place.

My heart buoys with hope and I try the doorknob to see if it was left unlocked. It’s closed up tight. Biting my bottom lip, I lift a rock by the front door, smiling when I see a key under it.

Using it on the door, I exhale with relief as it opens. Tears slide down my cheek as I step inside and flick on the lights. They work. I won’t have to sleep in my car and freeze to death tonight. I will have a warm place to rest. And then in the morning I can figure out a plan.It doesn’t take me long to bring in my bags from the car, and I know I’m breaking the law — this is not my house and I have no right to be here — but it does feel like the miracle I needed. It feels strange, walking around the cabin alone, but as I pull out a can of soup and warm it up on the stove, I pinch myself, unable to believe I’m so lucky. I never get big breaks, unless you count my escape this morning.

The house doesn’t appear to have had a visitor in a long time There is a layer of dust over everything, the place is ice cold and there a cobwebs in every corner. But still, it feels safe. Max and Joe can’t pawn me to their drug dealer when they don’t know who I am.