Page 9 of Landing Liam

“Thanks, but optimism is the last thing I need right now.” I chuckle, eyeing the icy road ahead.

“We could’ve taken my car,” he reminds me, the words dripping with I-told-you-so. “With heat. But you insisted on flying solo.”

“I need someone I trust holding down the fort while I’m out here freezing to death,” I say, reminding myself as much as him. “Janowicz left me in charge, and if I’m going to be editor someday, I need to make sure—”

“The place doesn’t burn down while you’re gone?” he quips.

“Exactly,” I say, clutching the steering wheel tighter. “This is important, Odie.”

“Uh-huh. And where are you staying? You’re not sleeping in that car, are you?”

I hesitate, glancing out at the snowy landscape. “I thought maybe I’d crash somewhere in the resort, on a couch or something.”

Odie groans. “Maggie, I made a hotel reservation for you.”

I let out a long breath. “I can’t afford a hotel room, Odie.”

“Good thing I put it on my card, then.”

My jaw drops. “Odie, you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did. Consider it a late Christmas gift. You’re homeless, your car is basically a tin can, and you need a win. Let me help you.”

I grip the phone tighter, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the missing heater. “Thanks, Odie.”

“Just doing my part.” His tone is lighter than before. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened when you moved out of Louise’s granny flat and ran into Ryan?”

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “It was… uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“Because he kept apologizing for, you know… knocking up someone else.”

Odie scoffs. “He’s such a loser.”

I let out a sigh. “No, I’m the loser. I was the one living with my ex-boyfriend’s grandmother after he cheated. That’s not exactly a power move.”

“Really?” he asks, unimpressed. “Then why was he the one apologizing?”

That actually makes me smile. He has a point. Still, I’m not in the mood for a therapy session. “Oh no, I think my phone’s cutting out!” I lie, pressing a hand to my chest as I hold in a chuckle. “I’m only catching every other word.”

“Nice try. I can hear you just fine,” he says dryly.

“Gotta go!” I chirp, hitting the end-call button before he can argue.

I laugh to myself, letting the sound of the radio fill the car. Trying not to think about how much I despise icy roads, I focus on the music and the thought that this story could be the one to change things.

When I finally reach the top of the mountain, I’m surprised to find the roads mostly dry and clear. Thank goodness—maybe luck is finally on my side.

The hotel Odie booked for me looks like something out of a postcard: a two-story, lodge-style building with timber beams, stone accents, and oversized windows that glow warmly against the snowy backdrop. It’s quaint and inviting, the kind of place that feels like a hug after a long day.

I grab my suitcase from the trunk of my freezing car and rush inside, my teeth still chattering as the warmth of the lobby wraps around me like a well-worn blanket. The scent of pine and something faintly sweet—maybe cinnamon—fills the air. A crackling fire burns in a massive stone fireplace in the corner, its light dancing across the polished wood floors. Cozy green armchairs are scattered around, a few occupied by guests reading or chatting quietly. The walls are lined with framed wildlife photography: bears fishing in a stream, eagles mid-flight, and deer nestled in snow.

“I have a reservation,” I say to the woman behind the front desk. “Maggie Cooper.”

She types something into her computer before turning to grab a key off the wall behind her. “Here you go. You’re all set for the next three nights. Second floor, left-hand side.”

“Thanks,” I say, giving her a grateful smile as I clutch the key and head for the stairs.