Chapter11
In Charlotte’s memory, snow in Northbridge always came late.
As a child, she’d cling to Julian Lancaster’s arm and count down the days on her fingers, eyes shining with excitement:
“How many more days until the big snow? You promised to build me a yard full of snowmen!”
Julian’s hands were terrible at crafting snowmen.
Out of ten, only one looked halfway decent.
Still, he’d puff out his chest with pride and boast, “Look, this one’s a dragon I sculpted.”
Charlotte would lean in eagerly, only to find something that looked more like a frozen earthworm.
She’d cover her face in disbelief, and he’d keep a straight face until she burst into laughter, collapsing in the snow.
The memory made her smile, but she quickly shook it off.
The icy wind rattled the windowpane, snowflakes tapping against the glass with a crisp chill.
She pushed the window open.
The world outside was blanketed in soft white.
Since arriving overseas, the adjustment had felt like an entire century passing.
From initial discomfort to slowly finding balance, everything had shifted.
Her stepbrother, Logan Westwood, had taken good care of her.
He’d accompanied her to countless hospitals, followed dietary plans down to the gram, and even tracked down smoked ham from a market when she mentioned missing her hometown stew.
Logan’s cooking skills had been forged by time.
After their parents died in a car crash years ago, Charlotte locked herself in her room, refusing to
eat.
Back then, barely out of his teens, Logan had clumsily tied on an apron and learned her favorite
dishes one recipe at a time.
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She used to clutch her mother’s stuffed bunny, crying herself to sleep on a soaked pillow.
He’d quietly pack up their parents‘ belongings, shoulder the weight of the Westwood household, and protect her fiercely, being both brother and father, holding up her entire world.
That sense of safety around Logan was etched into her bones.
Propping her chin on the windowsill, she watched as neighborhood kids built a line of snowmen in
red scarves.
Their round, lumpy shapes were so adorable, she couldn’t help but laugh.
Like a child, she bounded downstairs, just in time to see Logan setting breakfast on the table.
Even the sandwich had been carefully shaped into bunny ears.
She glanced at his plate. His sandwich was simply cut in half, and her leftover crusts were neatly
stacked on the side.
Her heart warmed, and a strange ache bloomed alongside it.
“Logan, I want to play in the snow too.”
She looked at him with wide eyes, her calm, reserved brother.
Logan never restricted her freedom, but every time she went out alone, the concern in his eyes
made her hesitate.
So she quickly added, “I’m feeling great today. If you’re not busy… will you build snowmen with
me?”
He set down his milk, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft smile. “Sure.”
He watched her finish her last bite of sandwich, and just as she dashed for the door, he grabbed her
collar and reeled her back in.
“Scarf.”
Before she could respond, he had already wrapped a thick scarf around her neck, pulled on her thermal gloves, zipped up her snow boots, fitted her fuzzy earmuffs, and topped it off with a long
down coat that nearly reached her ankles.
Only when she resembled a roly–poly burrito did he finally nod in approval and pat her head.
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Charlotte laughed at her reflection, eyes crinkling. “With a brother like this, who even needs a
boyfriend?”
She paused, feigning lightness. “The way you take care of me… the comfort you give… it’s just like
how Julian used to treat me.”
She meant it as reassurance, proof that she’d let go of the past.
But just as Logan was tugging her beanie into place, his fingers brushed against her cheek, leaving
behind a trail of warmth.
His eyes darkened, as if they could draw her in completely, but his lips curved into a faint smile.
“Maybe,” he said quietly, “I’m not that different from Julian after all.”
Then he bent down to tie the strings of her hat beneath her chin, forming a perfect little bow, as if that loaded statement had meant nothing at all.
Charlotte stood frozen.
What did he mean by that?
Not that different from Julian?
Did he mean he’d forget her one day too?
Or that he’d hurt her for someone else?
No. She pushed the thought away.
Logan wasn’t Julian. He never would be.
Still, his cryptic words left her agitated.
He always did this, said half a sentence and left her guessing the rest.
Fuming, Charlotte stomped into the courtyard, grabbed the snow shovel, and hacked at the snow like it was Logan’s infuriatingly unreadable face.
Thunk!
The shovel slipped from her hands and hit the ground with a dull thud.
She bent to pick it up, only to find her arm stuck midair, frozen in place.
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Before she could cry out, her body lifted from the ground.
Logan had scooped her up in his arms.
With her ear pressed against his chest, she could hear his steady heartbeat, strong and rhythmic,
like a comforting drum.
ALS. The doctors had called it a progressive, incurable condition, one that would slowly rob her muscles of strength, until even breathing became a struggle.
Lying in bed, she watched as Logan tucked her in, and found herself joking despite it all.
“Guess the cold really did freeze me.”
Logan leaned close, voice trembling faintly. “Yeah. Once it’s warm again, you won’t be frozen
anymore.”
This time, she fell silent.
A long moment passed before she finally spoke, voice soft but firm.
“Logan, someone like me… I’m not fit to be anyone’s wife. Not even someone’s love.”
She was gently turning him down, this was a love she couldn’t afford.
But Logan raised his head and leaned in, eyes locking with hers.
What she saw in them startled her, so much unspoken affection, so deep it made her breath catch.
She hadn’t seen it before.
Then his expression softened. His tone was calm, as if discussing something perfectly mundane:
“To me, if you choose me as your brother, I’ll care for you like family.‘
})
“But if you choose me as your partner… I’ll just be adding a husband’s love on top of that. There’s really no difference.”
He paused, then added quietly, “The truth is… I’m selfish. I want to hold more than one place in
your heart.”
“Charlotte, don’t shut me out just yet.” His gaze was steady, pleading.
“At least give me the chance to prove I can be enough.”
Chapter11
