Chapter 11
Ella
The town square glitters like something from a fairy tale as we approach. Thousands of lights wrap every tree trunk and branch, creating a canopy of stars above the gathering crowd. I grip Nora’s mittened hand in mine, scanning the faces out of habit—looking for threats that likely don’t exist.
“Mom, look! The tree is huge!” Nora tugs me forward, her excitement palpable. The centerpiece of the square is indeed impressive—a massive pine towering at least thirty feet, draped in lights that haven’t yet been illuminated.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” I laugh, letting her pull me along while trying to keep track of the others. Kane and Kori walk behind us, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. Kat, Wren, Lana, and Mia follow, taking photos of everything and pointing out decorations with childlike enthusiasm.
“Ella! Over here!” Helen waves from a booth selling hot chocolate, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “I saved spots for you all near the front!”
I wave back, grateful for her thoughtfulness. In the four years I’ve lived in Pinecrest, Helen has been the closest thing I have to a friend—though I’ve always kept a careful distance, afraid to reveal too much.
“Hot chocolate first,” I tell Nora, steering her toward Helen’s booth. “Then we’ll find our spots.”
The square is packed with what must be the entire population of Pinecrest and the surrounding areas.
Children dart between adults, faces sticky with candy canes and marshmallows.
Elderly couples huddle together on benches, wrapped in blankets against the evening chill.
Teenagers cluster in giggling groups, pretending to be too cool for the festivities while secretly enjoying them.
It’s normal. Wholesome. Safe.
So why can’t I shake this feeling of unease?
“Eight hot chocolates,” Kane orders when we reach the booth, ignoring my protest that it’s too much. “With extra marshmallows for the munchkin.”
Nora beams up at him, and something in my chest tightens. She’s become attached to her new uncle with surprising speed, and he to her. All of them, really—my siblings have embraced Nora with an openness that sometimes makes my throat ache.
“The gingerbread village looks amazing,” Helen tells me as she hands over steaming cups. “Frank hasn’t stopped bragging about it to anyone who’ll listen. Says it’s the best work you’ve ever done.”
“It was definitely a team effort,” I say, nodding toward my siblings. “I couldn’t have done it without them.”
“Family is a blessing,” Helen says with a warm smile. “I’m so glad you’ve reconnected with yours.”
I nod, not trusting myself to elaborate on our complicated family situation. The story we’ve settled on—long-lost siblings reuniting after their father’s death—is close enough to the truth without inviting too many questions.
“Come on,” Kori says, balancing four hot chocolates. “Let’s find those seats before the ceremony starts.”
We weave through the crowd toward the front of the square, where Helen has indeed saved us prime viewing spots with a handwritten “RESERVED” sign. As we settle onto the bench, I can’t help scanning the crowd again, an old habit I can’t seem to break.
“You okay?” Kane asks quietly, sliding onto the bench beside me.
“Fine,” I say automatically, then sigh at his skeptical look. “Just... crowds make me nervous.”
He nods, understanding without pressing further. “We’ve got eyes everywhere,” he says, gesturing subtly to where Wren and Mia have positioned themselves with clear sightlines in different directions. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
I offer him a grateful smile, wondering when my paranoia became so apparent to them all. Perhaps because they share it to some degree—Kane especially seems to have developed a protective instinct that rivals my own.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mayor Thompson’s voice booms through speakers set up around the square. “Welcome to Pinecrest’s thirty-eighth annual Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony!”
The crowd cheers as he continues with his usual speech about community spirit and holiday traditions. Nora bounces on the bench between Kane and me, her excitement making it impossible to sit still.
“And now,” the mayor announces, “before we light the tree, please welcome the Pinecrest Elementary School Choir with their selection of holiday favorites!”
A group of children files onto the small stage set up beside the tree, Nora waving frantically at friends she recognizes. They begin a somewhat pitchy but enthusiastic rendition of “Jingle Bells” that has the crowd smiling indulgently.
As they sing, I feel myself relaxing incrementally. This is what normal people do—they attend community events, they sing carols, they drink hot chocolate under starry skies. They don’t constantly look over their shoulders or jump at sudden noises.
I’m so focused on this thought that I almost miss it—a flash of movement at the edge of my vision, a figure slipping between buildings at the far corner of the square. Something about the way they move sends ice through my veins.
My body goes rigid, every sense suddenly heightened. I scan the area where I saw the movement, but the figure is gone, lost in the shadows between storefronts.
“Ella?” Kane’s voice seems to come from far away. “What’s wrong?”
I force myself to breathe, to appear calm for Nora’s sake. “Nothing,” I say, the lie bitter on my tongue. “Thought I saw someone I knew.”
His eyes narrow, clearly not believing me, but he doesn’t press with Nora sitting between us.
The children finish their song to enthusiastic applause, transitioning into “Silent Night” with surprising grace. I try to focus on their sweet voices, on Nora’s rapt expression, but my eyes keep drifting to that corner of the square.
Then I see him again—a tall man in a dark coat, standing half-hidden beside the hardware store. The distance and shadows obscure his features, but something about his stance, the width of his shoulders, the way he holds himself...
My heart pounds so hard I’m sure Kane must hear it. It can’t be him. It can’t be. Mikhail is in Russia, thousands of miles away. He doesn’t know where we are or even that Nora exists.
“I need to use the restroom,” I murmur to Kane, already rising. “Watch Nora.”
He frowns, clearly concerned by my sudden pallor. “Want me to come with you?”
“No,” I say too quickly. “Stay with Nora. I’ll be right back.”
I slip away before he can protest, moving through the crowd with practiced ease. My eyes never leave the spot where I saw the figure, even as I weave between families and dodge excited children.
The man is gone by the time I reach the hardware store, but fresh footprints in the snow lead down the alley beside it. Without thinking, I follow them, my heart in my throat.
The alley is dark, lit only by the spillover glow from the square. The footprints continue to the back of the building, then stop at a service door. I hesitate, suddenly aware of how foolish this is—following a stranger into a dark alley, away from the crowd and my family.
But if it’s him... If somehow Mikhail has found us...
I reach for the door handle, then freeze as it turns from the inside. I stumble backward, looking frantically for somewhere to hide, but I’m exposed in the open alley.
The door swings open, and I brace myself for the worst.
“Ella?” Jake Brennan steps out, his expression confused as he takes in my panicked state. “What are you doing back here?”
Relief hits me so hard my knees nearly buckle. “Jake,” I breathe, one hand pressed to my racing heart. “I thought... I saw someone...”
His confusion shifts to concern as he moves closer, taking in my pale face and shaking hands. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, though I’m anything but. “I just... I thought I saw someone I used to know. Someone who shouldn’t be here.”
Jake’s eyes narrow, and I see something shift in his expression—a hardening, a calculation. “What kind of someone?”
I shake my head, already regretting following the footprints, revealing my fear. “It doesn’t matter. I was mistaken.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re shaking, Ella.”
“It’s cold,” I lie, wrapping my arms around myself. “I should get back to Nora and the others. The tree lighting...”
“Ella.” His voice stops me as I turn to leave. “If you’re in trouble, there are people here who can help. People who care about what happens to you and Nora.”
The genuine concern in his voice catches me off guard. Jake and I have been neighbors for years, but our interactions have always been minimal — polite but distant.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “But I’m fine, really. Just jumpy in crowds.”
He studies me for a long moment, then nods toward the square. “I’ll walk back with you.”
I don’t argue, grateful for his solid presence as we make our way back through the alley. The choir has finished their performance, and Mayor Thompson is back at the microphone, building excitement for the countdown.
“Ten!” the crowd begins chanting as we emerge onto the square. “Nine! Eight!”
I spot my family immediately—Kane standing with Nora on his shoulders for a better view, the others clustered around them, all looking toward the massive tree.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
I hurry toward them, Jake following at a slower pace. Kane’s eyes find mine as I approach, relief washing over his features.
“Four! Three!”
I reach them just as Nora spots me. “Mom! You’re back! Quick, it’s almost time!”
“Two! ONE!”
The square erupts in cheers as the tree blazes to life, thousands of lights illuminating simultaneously in a dazzling display. Nora gasps in delight from her perch on Kane’s shoulders, her face bathed in the colorful glow.
“It’s beautiful,” Kori breathes beside me, slipping her arm through mine. “Are you okay? Kane said you disappeared suddenly.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her, forcing a smile. “Just needed some air. It’s quite a crowd.”
She accepts this with a nod, though I see the concern in her eyes. “Well, you’re back just in time. They’re about to start the caroling.”
As the crowd breaks into “O Christmas Tree,” I try to lose myself in the moment—the music, the lights, Nora’s joy. But my eyes keep scanning the edges of the square, searching for a figure that may or may not have been there.
“Wasn’t that amazing?” Nora exclaims when the tree lighting ceremony finally concludes an hour later. Despite the late hour, she’s vibrating with excitement, her earlier exhaustion forgotten. “Can we come back tomorrow to see it again?”
“We’ll see,” I say, taking her hand as we navigate through the dispersing crowd toward our cars. “It’s past your bedtime already.”
“But it’s Saturday,” she argues, then breaks into a huge yawn that undermines her point.
I laugh, pulling her closer to my side. “That was a persuasive argument.”
The others walk ahead of us, Kat and Wren still taking photos of the decorations while Kane and Kori walk hand-in-hand. As we approach the vehicles, I make a quick decision.
“Would you all mind if Nora and I stayed at the lodge tonight?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual. “It’s getting late, and the roads back to our cottage can be treacherous after dark.”
Kane turns immediately. “Of course you can stay. You don’t even need to ask.”
“Yes!” Nora pumps her fist in the air. “Can I sleep in the big room with the window seat? The one where you can see the stars?”
“If that’s okay,” I say, looking at the others.
“More than okay,” Wren assures me. “We love having you both there.”
“Slumber party!” Kat declares, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll make hot chocolate with the fancy marshmallows I’ve been hiding from Kane.”
“I knew you had a secret stash,” Kane grumbles, but there’s no real irritation in his voice.
As we climb into our vehicles, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. I scan the parking area one last time before sliding into the passenger seat of Kane’s truck, Nora already buckled in the back.
“You want to tell me what really happened back there?” Kane asks quietly as he starts the engine.
I glance back to make sure Nora is distracted with her toy reindeer before answering. “I thought I saw someone. Someone from my past.”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Mikhail?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely audible over the rumble of the engine. “It was just a glimpse. Probably nothing.”
Kane’s jaw tightens. “But enough to spook you into staying at the lodge tonight.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “Just a precaution. Our cottage is isolated, and—”
“You don’t need to explain,” he cuts in, his voice gentle despite the tension in his shoulders. “The lodge is safer. More people, better security.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, relief washing through me. The fact that he understands without me having to spell it out is more comforting than I can express.
“Don’t mention it. We’ll stop at your place to get Scout and whatever you need,” he says, and all I can do is nod.