Cam spent New Year’s Eve alone at home while Riley visited Gus. Despite the thermostat reading sixty-eight, the house felt frigid, and Cam, bundled in layers and blankets, eyed the unused wood-burning fireplace. She weighed asking Dusty to light it, conflicted by their renewed closeness after Christmas and her fears about his rootless past. Thinking of Dusty’s handmade leather gifts and his quiet care, she finally decided to check whether he was home.

Seeing light in Dusty’s cabin, Cam crossed the snowy path he had shoveled and knocked. Dusty welcomed her in immediately, noted her heat issues, and made her tea while urging her to warm up by his fire. Cam took in his small, tidy space and noticed a sticker-covered wooden box on the coffee table. When she handled it, folded triangle notes spilled out—each labeled “Ash”—revealing a trove of unsent letters.

Confronted, Dusty admitted they were notes he wrote after their breakup whenever he wanted to tell Cam about his life or how he still missed her. He said keeping them made their past feel real and made the pain feel worth something. Cam, moved, touched his face; Dusty asked if she wanted the full truth, and he gave it, explaining the notes were all he had left of her.

Their foreheads touched, and the conversation escalated into a charged moment. When Cam asked whether kissing would make things better or worse, Dusty said “worse” but told her to do it anyway. At the last second, Cam pulled away, apologizing, overwhelmed by the risk of upsetting their delicate balance.

Cam’s retreat left Dusty visibly hurt, though he tried to deflect with a strained joke about old habits. To defuse the moment, Dusty suggested they go look at her heater, redirecting their attention from the almost-kiss to the practical issue that had brought her over.