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He clears his throat and steps closer, crowding me with his rugged scent.

"I mean—what are we, Audrey? Because the last I checked, we were Christmas only. No promises. No future decisions." He says it with no accusation behind his tone, which somehow makes it worse. "I'm not throwing that at you to be an asshole, I'm honestly asking what you want. Because when I was laying there last night with you in my arms, I didn't know either."

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing useful comes out.

He nods like that's the answer he expected, then returns to staring at the fire.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Look, Miles. This is all moving so fast. It's crazy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”

“No. But it means neither of us knows what happens after Christmas.” He gestures toward the folder. “Ottawa does. They’re offering guaranteed money. Enough to clear the farm’s debts before my father has to sign any of it away.”

“Today's tour could change that.”

"Audrey, the tour is a great idea, but—"

"But what?"

He drags a hand through his hair. “But it hasn’t even run one tour yet. Big Mike keeps watching me like he’s considering an offer too, but watching isn’t an offer. One tour isn't a sustainable business. That contract is. Ottawa put guaranteed money on the table.”

“So you’re taking it?”

“I don’t know.” His gaze finds mine. “But I can’t ask my family to gamble four generations on the possibility that something else might work.”

I understand that.

But I hate that I understand it.

“And where does that leave us?”

Miles stares at me, then releases a breath so deep his broad shoulders sag.

“Well, what if you stay here,” he says eventually. “You take the resort job officially and make the tours work, because I’ve seen what this life does to you. You light up here, Audrey.”

"And?"

"And maybe…" He draws a deep breath. "Maybe it's best if the arrangement ends where we said it would. At Christmas. Like we agreed."

The coffee cup goes very heavy in my hands.

Shit.

He wants this to end? What about all those things he said last night? What about all this Christmas magic he's been spoiling me with?

I look across to the Christmas tree and see the blank ornament he placed there.

Only you get to decide what goes into your new life.

“So you’re ending this as a favor to me.”

“No. I’m refusing to ask you to abandon your own life because my hockey career suddenly remembered I exist.”

“Right. Except you didn’t ask me anything.” My voice rises despite my best efforts. “You just decided I should stay here, that you should leave and this should end. Apparently, my only responsibility is smiling while you explain how thoughtful you’re being.”

He rubs a hand over his face. “That isn’t fair.”

“Isn’t it? Because I’ve spent years surrounded by people making decisions about my life and calling it love. I’m not doing it again.”