13. Christian
Christian
T he cold stung my cheeks as a sudden impact to my face shattered my solitude. Snow cascaded down my collar, chilling me to the bone.
Laughter echoed around me. I wiped the snow from my eyes and scanned the area. A group of kids stood a few feet away, their giggles dying down to whispers as they noticed my reaction.
"Is that him?" one of them murmured.
"Yeah, that's Christian Cross," another replied.
"Heard he's some kind of soldier."
"Nah, he looks more like a runaway."
Their voices carried hints of fear and fascination. I sighed, feeling the weight of their curiosity.
"You shouldn't have done that," I warned, my voice steady.
The kids fell silent, their eyes wide. There were five of them, all bundled in thick coats and scarves. The biggest one, a tall boy with a red hat, stepped forward, trying to mask his apprehension with bravado.
I squatted down, scooping up a handful of snow. The cold seeped through my gloves as I packed it into a firm ball. The kids watched me with bated breath. Without warning, I stood and launched the snowball at the tall boy. It hit him square in the face.
The impact sent him reeling back, and the other kids gasped in unison. He wiped his face with his sleeve, eyes wide with shock and a hint of respect.
"You've got good aim," he said, voice trembling slightly.
I allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of my mouth. "Comes with practice."
The tension eased as the other kids started laughing again, albeit nervously this time. They seemed to realize I wasn't as intimidating as they thought.
"Are you really Christian Cross?" one of the younger ones asked.
"I am," I replied.
They nodded, still unsure but less afraid now. The tall boy extended a hand cautiously.
"I'm Jake," he said. "Sorry about the snowball. Just wanted to see if you're as tough as you look."
"And?"
"Your reaction is garbage."
I smirked.
I barely had time to react before another snowball whizzed past my ear. I dodged to the side, watching it sail harmlessly by.
"Whoa," the kids said in unison, eyes wide with astonishment.
"How's that for a reaction?" I asked, straightening up.
"Lucky," Jake muttered, but there was a hint of admiration in his voice.
Just then, a cold, wet sensation hit the back of my neck. I turned sharply, my gaze landing on Claire. She stood there with her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide in mock innocence.
"It wasn't?—"
"You're a shit liar," I said, smirking.
She started to giggle, not even bothering to deny it. Her laughter was infectious, lightening the cold air around us.
"You better run, Ms. Bennett," I warned, squatting down to scoop up some snow.
"You wouldn't," she said, taking a cautious step back.
I packed the snowball tightly and stood up. "I would," I replied and launched it straight at her. "I don't discriminate."
The snowball hit her shoulder with a soft thud. She shrieked in surprise before breaking into more giggles. The kids joined in the laughter, their earlier apprehension forgotten.
Clara's eyes sparkled with mischief as she bent down to make her own snowball. "This means war," she declared, aiming at me with mock seriousness.
The kids scattered, grabbing snow and forming makeshift forts. The air filled with the sound of laughter and the soft thuds of snowballs hitting their targets.
I ducked behind a tree as another snowball whizzed past me, narrowly missing my ear. The cold air filled with the sound of laughter and the crunch of boots on snow. I couldn't remember the last time I had this much fun.
"Take cover!" Jake shouted, his voice filled with excitement.
I peeked out from behind the tree, spotting Claire as she crouched behind a hastily built snow fort, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with determination. She caught my eye and grinned before hurling another snowball in my direction.
"Nice try!" I called out, dodging to the side and returning fire. The snowball hit the edge of her fort, sending a spray of snow into the air.
The kids were relentless, their energy seemingly boundless. They darted around, laughing and shouting as they pelted each other with snowballs. I found myself caught up in their enthusiasm, my usual guarded nature slipping away.
I glanced over at Jake, who was busy constructing an impressive snow fort with the help of his friends. "You call that a fort?" I taunted, gathering more snow for my next attack.
"It's better than your tree," he shot back, grinning.
"Is that so?" I packed another snowball and lobbed it over their fortifications. It landed with a satisfying thud on the other side, eliciting a chorus of giggles.
Claire seized the moment to launch an attack of her own, catching me off guard. A well-aimed snowball hit me square in the chest, sending a cold shock through my coat. "Got you!" she cheered, throwing a fist into the air.
"Oh, it's on now," I muttered under my breath, quickly forming another snowball.
The battle raged on; the air filled with laughter and playful taunts. The cold seemed to fade away as we all became lost in the moment. My breath came in visible puffs as I moved from one spot to another, dodging and weaving like a soldier on a battlefield—but this was a different kind of war.
I noticed one of the younger kids struggling to keep up, his small hands red from the cold. Without thinking, I called him over and handed him my gloves. "Here," I said gruffly. "You need these more than I do."
He looked up at me with wide eyes before nodding and slipping them on. "Thanks," he said softly before rejoining the fray.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the snowy ground, our pace began to slow. Exhaustion started to creep in, but no one seemed ready to call it quits just yet.
Claire finally called for a truce, holding up her hands in surrender. "All right, all right," she laughed breathlessly. "I think we've all had enough."
The kids groaned in unison but didn't argue. They knew when it was time to stop pushing their luck.
"Good game," Claire said softly as she came to stand beside me.
"Yeah," I replied with a small smile. "It was."
She reached up, and before I knew it, a snowball hit the top of my head. I blinked the snow away, feeling the cold trickle down my neck.
"Naughty," I murmured, grabbing her wrist gently.
"You have no idea," she replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
I narrowed my eyes then, feeling a sudden heat flare within me. My gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there. I wanted her. I wanted to taste her. And she wasn't pulling away.
Before I could move closer, another snowball hit my face, snapping me back to reality. I wiped the snow away, glancing over at Jake who stood with a triumphant grin.
"Get some mistletoe, why don't you," he called out, his voice full of teasing.
Claire's cheeks flushed crimson as she started laughing, the sound infectious. I couldn't help but chuckle too, shaking my head at the kid's audacity.
"We should check back with the booth," Claire murmured, her voice still tinged with laughter.
I nodded in agreement, feeling the moment slip away but not entirely lost. The warmth of her wrist still lingered in my hand as we turned and made our way back through the snow-covered street. The kids trailed behind us, their earlier energy now subdued by fatigue and the onset of evening.
The Christmas market came into view, its lights twinkling merrily against the growing darkness. A small crowd had gathered around it, their faces lit by the glow of festive decorations. Claire and I walked in comfortable silence, the sounds of laughter and holiday cheer filling the air.
As we approached the booth, she glanced up at me with a soft smile. "Thanks for joining in," she said quietly. "The kids really enjoyed it."
"Yeah," I replied simply, not quite sure how to express what I was feeling.
She seemed to understand though because she squeezed my hand gently before letting go and stepping forward to greet some of the townsfolk. I watched her for a moment, marveling at how easily she moved through this world—how effortlessly she connected with everyone around her.
I wasn't much for talking. Always preferred doing something with my hands. It grounded me, gave me a purpose. So, when Claire headed to her booth, I followed her without a word. She began to grab the empty baskets that used to be filled with her baked goods—cookies, cakes, and pies—all gone.
"How'd you do?" Emma asked as she approached.
"Great," Claire replied, her face lighting up. "And you?"
Emma sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.
"It would have been great if I didn't have to grab Mia from Bernie's," she muttered.
"He knew about today but he didn't care.
He promised he'd take her to The Nutcracker, but…
" Her voice trailed off. She looked down at the ground, kicking at the snow. "Sorry. I don't mean to vent."
"No, it's okay," Claire said softly, setting down one of the baskets and reaching out to touch Emma's arm. "I'm here if you need it. We all need to vent sometimes."
"Ditto," Emma replied, managing a small smile before bending down to pick up some more items.
I stepped forward then, feeling an urge to help that I couldn't quite explain. "Let me," I said, reaching for the heavy basket in Emma's hands.
She looked up at me, surprise flickering across her face before she nodded and handed it over. "Thanks," she said quietly.
"No problem," I replied gruffly.
The basket was heavier than it looked, filled with all sorts of baked goods and trinkets that Emma had brought to sell. I hefted it easily and turned towards Claire's car, ready to load it in the trunk.
Emma followed behind me with another basket, her steps slow and weary. "Bernie's always like this," she muttered as we walked. "Always making promises he can't keep."
Claire glanced over at her with concern. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that today," she said.
Emma shrugged, though the sadness in her eyes was hard to miss. "It's just how it is," she said.
I loaded the basket into the trunk and turned back for more. The work felt good—gave me something else to focus on besides my own thoughts.
As we continued packing up the booth, the silence between us felt comfortable, almost companionable. Emma's venting seemed to ease some of the tension in the air, and Claire's reassuring presence made everything feel a little less heavy.
We walked to Emma's car, the cold biting at my exposed skin. Emma turned to us, her eyes reflecting gratitude.
"Thanks again," she said, her voice soft.
I nodded. "No problem."
She glanced up at a nearby tree and tilted her head slightly. "Huh."
Claire followed her gaze, and her eyes widened slightly. "Oh."
I looked up to see what had caught their attention. There, hanging from one of the branches, was a sprig of mistletoe, part of the town's Christmas decorations.
Emma's lips curled into a teasing smile. "I guess this is my cue to leave," she said, with a playful glint in her eye.
With that, she climbed into her car and drove off, leaving Claire and me standing beneath the mistletoe.
Claire blushed, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink than the cold could account for. "Ironic, huh?" she asked, her voice almost shy.
I didn't see the irony. My eyes dropped to her lips again, drawn to their softness. This time, I didn't resist the pull.
I stepped closer and took her hand gently in mine. Her breath hitched as our gazes locked. Slowly, I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers.
The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration of something new and unexpected. But as she responded, our kiss deepened, filled with unspoken words and shared warmth against the winter chill.
For that moment, everything else faded away—the cold, the town's curious eyes, my own fears and reservations. There was only Claire and the way she fit so perfectly against me.
When we finally pulled back, our breaths mingled in the cold air. Her eyes were bright, filled with something I couldn't quite name but wanted to explore further.
"That was..." she started but trailed off, unable to find the words.
"Yeah," I replied softly. "It was."
We stood there for a moment longer before reluctantly stepping apart. The world around us slowly came back into focus—the distant sounds of laughter and carols reminding us where we were.
But something had shifted between us under that mistletoe—something I wasn't ready to let go of just yet.