Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Friday brought with it cloudless skies and a chill wind that picked up drifts of snow.
Aileen had boxes filled with cinnamon rolls and cookies to hand out at the switch-on.
She and Eli had worked all morning, and as soon as the bakery closed for the day, they got ready to deliver everything to the town square.
Eli cast a doubtful glance at the pile of boxes.
“How are we going to manage all these?”
Aileen grinned. “Worry not. Any second now, an elf will arrive with a truck.”
He arched his eyebrows. “An elf?”
That grin didn’t waver. “And there he is, right on time.”
Eli peered into the street. He rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
Noah had pulled up outside the door.
Aileen chuckled. “Okay, so he’s a very tall elf.” She picked up three boxes. “Well, grab the door for me. My hands are full.”
Eli held it open, and she went out to Noah’s truck.
He smiled as he took the boxes and loaded them into the back. “These smell awesome.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Do I need to count their contents?”
Noah gave a mock gasp of indignation. “You mean you’re not paying me with cinnamon rolls for the use of my truck? Rude.”
Aileen laughed. “Okay, I’ll make sure there are a couple left for you.” She glanced at Eli. “And you can take my brother with you. He’s been useless all day.”
“Hey! I’ve been incredibly useful,” Eli protested.
“You reorganized the sprinkle shelf,” she said. “Twice.”
“It needed it.”
Noah laughed. “C’mon, sprinkle king. I’ve got a schedule to keep.”
Aileen leaned close as Eli stepped past her with his arms full of boxes. “You look happy,” she said in a low voice. “Let it happen, okay?”
He swallowed. “I’m trying.”
“Good,” she said. Then, louder: “Don’t keep him out too late. He turns into a pumpkin after midnight.”
“I absolutely do not!” Eli yelled over his shoulder.
“I can vouch for that,” Noah said with a grin. “I haven’t woken up once to find a pumpkin in my bed.”
Eli stared at him. “Say that again, Noah. I think half the town missed it the first time.”
Noah’s grin was positively wicked.
Eli deposited his boxes and got into the passenger seat. The truck smelled like pine and its usual aroma of coffee and faint traces of sawdust. Noah leaned over as Eli climbed in, the truck’s heater rattling into life. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Eli echoed, loving the way Noah’s eyes did that automatic once-over, checking him, softening when their gazes met. Noah’s hand came to rest on Eli’s thigh for a second, long enough for warmth to flare under the denim.
“Ready?” Noah asked.
“Define ready.”
“For lights, crowds, maple fudge, and at least three people asking if we’re ‘serious.’”
Eli choked. “What?”
“It’s Mapleford,” Noah said with a smile. “We’re gay, we’re in proximity, and we’ll be standing near a tree. People will have questions.”
“You’re kidding.”
Noah grinned, his eyes on the road. “We don’t have to announce anything. But this town? It notices.”
The words made Eli’s stomach swoop.
He’d known this was coming, in theory. Mapleford wasn’t a place where you could blend into the blur; it was a town full of human magnifying glasses. He’d grown up here trying to be as unnoticeable as possible.
Now he was showing up on Noah’s passenger side, convinced the locals would be examining him for signs of lips swollen from too much kissing. His heart was doing its best impression of a drumline.
He stared out at the snow as the truck rolled toward the square. “Is that gonna be a problem?”
“For who?” Noah asked.
“You. Me. The town. Your… history.”
Noah’s jaw flexed. “My history can mind its own business.”
“That’s not how history works.”
Noah’s smile thinned, but it didn’t vanish. “When my ex left, people watched. They had opinions. They whispered ‘poor Noah’ as if I wasn’t standing there. I hated it.” His fingers tightened slightly on the wheel. “But this? This I choose.” He glanced at Eli, his eyes warm. “And I choose you.”
Eli’s chest went hot and tight at the same time.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked quietly.
“I am. But we don’t have to put on a show. You don’t owe anyone anything. If anyone asks anything rude, I’ll tell them to go argue with the garlands.”
Eli huffed a laugh. “How diplomatic.”
“I can be professional when it’s required,” Noah said. “Now drink your emergency cocoa.”
“What emergency—”
A paper cup appeared in front of his face. “I bribed your sister.”
“Traitor,” Eli muttered, taking it. The first sip was pure Aileen, thick, rich, a little too sweet, the way Eli liked it. He let the warmth slide down his throat, hoping for it to settle his stomach.
Noah glanced at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Eli said. “I’m not used to being seen, that’s all.”
“You’ve been seen before,” Noah murmured. “Just not like this.”
They pulled into the square. It wasn’t fully dark yet, but the square gleamed.
Stalls lined the edges, their roofs frosted with snow, strings of warm lights zigzagging between them.
The big spruce towered overhead, its lights dark.
Kids ran in packs, leaving trails of footprints.
The air smelled like popcorn, hot cocoa, and cold.
Someone waved at him, then someone else did the same. Eli realized his name was being said here and there.
“Oh, that’s Aileen’s brother.”
“Eli, from Boston.”
“The one helping Noah with the lights.”
He walked closer to Noah without thinking.
Noah seemed to notice because his hand brushed the back of Eli’s, then stayed there, fingers loosely hooked.
“Okay, team,” Noah called out, rallying the volunteers. “We’ve got thirty minutes until official kickoff, and I’d like to avoid live electrocution. Positions!”
Teen volunteers hauled last-minute crates. Someone shouted about checking the generators. Gloria from the Garland Task Force inspected the mistletoe archway with an intensity that would make an architect sweat.
Eli wove through the crowd with Noah, checking connections, adjusting spotlights, making last-minute tweaks to the “Winter Market” stall they’d finished painting. Noah checked every power cable.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Noah said. “Just want it right.”
“It is.” Eli gazed at the square. “It looks beautiful.”
“You helped.”
“I only did what you told me.” Eli stared at the lanterns.
“So much work goes into this.” The first wave of people walked along Main Street, comprising families, couples, and groups of teenagers pretending to be too cool for cocoa but lining up to grab some all the same.
Above their heads, thousands of white lights moved gently in the breeze.
Eli found himself beside the “Winter Market” stall for a stint, handing out maps of the festival. Warm lights framed the fake window, and kids bobbed behind it, their parents snapping photos.
“Smile!” one mom called.
Eli ducked out of frame as the shutter clicked.
Noah appeared next to him, his red beanie pulled down over his ears. “How’s the front line?”
“I’ve repeated ‘bathrooms are behind the community center’ so many times I’m not sure words are real anymore.”
“That’s the holiday spirit,” Noah said.
An older woman approached, her white hair visible beneath her knitted red hat, her eyes sharp.
“Evening, Noah,” she said. Then she met Eli’s gaze. “Hi there, dear. You must be Eli.”
Eli straightened. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Joyce,” she said. Her eyes sparkled. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I taught you economics in eleventh grade.”
Panic flared through his chest. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”
She barked a laugh. “You were terrible at paying attention, but very good at doodling. Look at you now.”
He flushed, glancing at Noah.
Joyce turned to Noah. “The tree looks good. Better than last year.” Her lips twitched. “Even if there are fewer geese.”
“High praise indeed,” Noah said.
She nodded as if she was assessing them for a test. “You two make a nice picture. I’m glad.”
Eli’s brain stalled. “You…are?”
She rolled her eyes. “Everyone’s been waiting for Noah to let someone in again. I’m relieved he chose someone with kind eyes.”
Eli forgot how to breathe for a second.
Noah smiled. “Thanks, Joyce.”
“Don’t muck it up,” she said briskly. “Either of you. You’re too old for that high school drama.” Then she marched off, leaving them staring after her.
“Is that normal?” Eli finally asked.
“For Joyce? Pretty much.”
“For the town,” Eli clarified.
“For Mapleford?” Noah considered. “Also pretty much.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
Noah looked at him. “Are you?”
Eli thought about it.
When he’d left at eighteen, the idea of people watching his personal life as though it was a small-town soap opera would have sent him running.
But standing here now with the lights glowing, the air smelling like sugar and cold, and Noah’s shoulder brushing his, he realized the watching wasn’t mean but protective, maybe curious, rooted in a town that actually wanted him to be okay.
“I think,” he said slowly, “I might be.”
Noah’s eyes softened. “Good.” He slid his fingers through Eli’s and gave a gentle squeeze.
Eli squeezed back.
No one screamed or gasped. The square didn’t explode. A few people looked, perhaps, and some smiled. Then someone wolf-whistled from near the cocoa stand, earning a smack from Gloria.
The world kept turning.
Noah nudged him. “Speech time.”
The mayor made her way to the foot of the tree, to where a microphone stand awaited her. She gave a short speech about community and resilience, and geese being explicitly banned from future festivals. Then the crowd counted down from ten, and she flipped the switch.
The tree exploded into light.
Warm white lights raced up the branches. Stars twinkled within the boughs, and ornaments shimmered. Gasps rippled through the crowd, kids squealed, and someone nearby sniffled as if they’d never seen anything so beautiful.
Eli tilted his head back, watching the glow wash over the square.
It was magical.
Noah nudged him, his breath warm on Eli’s ear. “We did that.”
Eli swallowed, his throat tight. “You did that.”
“We,” Noah repeated firmly. His hand found Eli’s again, giving another small, grounding squeeze. The moment spun out, golden and real. And in that glow, in the hum of people cheering and music starting, Eli felt it—the first real tug of wanting to stay, not just for the season, but permanently.
The thought made his heart beat faster, and he pulled his hand back.
Noah looked at him, alert. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Eli lied. “I’m not a fan of crowds.”
Noah’s expression shifted. “We can duck out.”
“I’m fine,” Eli said quickly. “I need a second, that’s all. Maybe some quiet.”
Noah nodded. “Come on.”
He guided Eli around the edge of the square, under strings of lights, past the vendors and cocoa lines, to a quieter side street where the snow was piled high and the music faded to a distant echo.
The cold hit harder away from the warmth of the crowd. Eli sucked in the sharp air.
“Talk to me,” Noah said, his voice low.
Eli stared down at his boots. Snowflakes collected on his lashes.
“I’m…happy,” he said. It was true. “And that’s scary.”
Noah let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I get that.”
“This festival is—” Eli gestured vaguely at the glowing town. “Part of me is still convinced I don’t belong in this picture. That I’m going to mess it up, or wake up, or find out I imagined all of this.” His voice shook, and he pressed his lips together, embarrassment flushing through him.
Noah stepped close enough that Eli could feel his warmth through all the layers.
“You didn’t imagine it,” Noah said quietly. “And you belong here as much as anyone else. More than some of them, honestly. Have you met the guy who insists on wearing a Grinch costume to the grocery store in November?”
“Fair point,” Eli murmured.
“And me? I’m just a guy with a staple gun and too many clipboards.”
“You’re more than that,” Eli said.
“You’re more than you think, too. But we can figure that out one night at a time. One festival at a time. We don’t have to have an answer tonight.”
His voice wrapped around Eli like another blanket, and some of the tightness eased in Eli’s shoulders.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”
Noah’s expression softened. “Can I hold your hand again?”
“Yeah.” Eli smiled. “Please.”
Their fingers entwined, and they stood there for a moment in the relative quiet.
Eli thought of the sketchbook in his duffel, the drawing he hadn’t told Noah about. It tugged at him now, not as something creepy or wrong, but something honest that kept edging closer to the surface.
He didn’t want lies between them, not even lies by omission.
“Can I tell you something kind of weird?” he blurted.
Noah’s brows rose slightly. “Now I’m intrigued.”
Eli’s heart hammered. “Not tonight,” he backpedaled. “Soon, though. When I’m ready.”
Noah considered him for a moment before nodding. “Okay. When you’re ready.” He tilted his head. “Should I be worried?”
“It’s nothing bad,” Eli assured him. He gestured toward the square. “But I think I am ready for more cocoa and some of Aileen’s pastries, if there’s any left.”
“If we’re really lucky, she’ll have saved some for us.”
This time, when they stepped into the light and the music and the noise, Eli didn’t feel like an imposter in someone else’s story.
He felt like he’d stepped into his own with someone by his side who saw him.
His secret would come out soon. He’d make sure of it. But for tonight, he let himself enjoy the glow of the lights, the music, the laughter, and Noah’s hand wrapped firmly in his.
For the first time in years, Christmas didn’t feel like forced cheer.
It glistened with promise.