Chapter 27 #2
As he stepped outside, I began focusing on the fireplace—my traditional anchor point for holiday décor.
I strung a length of soft burlap ribbon across the mantle, delicately clipping on rustic wooden snowflakes and tiny frosted pinecones.
The natural tones added a cozy touch to the cabin without competing with Isis’s sparkle parade.
Moments later, the soft harmonies of “Silent Night” by The Temptations filled the air.
Pausing mid-reach with a hook, I smirked to myself. “Okay, Miss Instagram… that girl has taste after all.” Just then, Bryce strolled in again, holding something wrapped in a towel under his arm.
I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”
A grin spread across his face. “A surprise! I present to you…” He unwrapped it with the flair of a magician revealing a rabbit. “Tyrone the Reindeer!”
What I saw made me blink in disbelief. It was a real, taxidermy deer head—imperfect and worn, with googly eyes crookedly glued on, like someone had succumbed to boredom during a blizzard. Its fur was faded, and a piece of pine straw clung to its left ear like a comically proud badge of honor.
I stared at him, utterly bemused. “Bryce, what in the cracked-out, limp-necked Rudolph is that?”
“Come on, Chess… put a lil’ respect on his name,” Bryce replied, sounding genuinely offended, holding the deer head up with a pride like he was presenting royalty.
“I’ll have you know this nigga survived two winters in that damn shed, not one, but two intense snowstorms, and Adrian trying to use him as a coat hook. ”
“You’ve had that thing for two years? Well, I guess I wouldn’t have known because in the times I have come here in the last two years, I haven’t went near that shed. But please don’t tell me that you’re planning on putting that thing up," I replied, arching an eyebrow skeptically.
“I am. But Tyrone ain’t just decoration; he’s legacy. This nigga locked eyes with me right before, like he knew his time was up…not a single flinch. He took that bullet like a G. For that, I believe he deserves a place of honor—right above the mantel, front and center.”
I shook my head slowly, arms folded, and amusement written all over my face.
“Bryce… that deer got googly eyes and an overbite. Seriously, he seems like he saw a ghost and then became one. And you really sat up there and gave him a name like Tyrone. Where he from? The south ridge of the mountain?” I crossed my arms, laughing.
“Lord, we got glitter snowflakes, string lights, and you bringing taxidermy energy.”
“He’s festive,” Bryce shot back, as he began the process of mounting the deer head above the fireplace.
“Festive? He looks more like he died in protest,” I retorted, leaning in closer to inspect the unfortunate creature before recoiling slightly at the distinct odor that wafted up. “And why does he smell like a mix of motor oil and corn chips?”
Bryce nodded solemnly. “That’s just the vintage smell, beautiful. You wouldn’t understand.”
Beautiful.
He said it so casually, like it wasn’t the softest gut punch I’d taken all day. I didn’t respond to it. But my heart? Yeah, it did a little happy dance in silence.
“Mm-hmm,” I replied, gawking at the so-called masterpiece. “Well, once you wrap up giving Tyrone from the Ridge his moment of glory, how about helping me hang these lights?”
“I got you,” he said—his most infamous words.
Words that somehow meant yes, no, I forgot, I’ll get to it later, and why are you yelling? All at once.
***
Thirty minutes later, the cabin looked like a holiday fever dream—in a good way.
The living room looked completely different.
Cozy plaid pillows had replaced the usual ones, garland laced with red berries and soft gold ribbon framed the windows, and a fresh wreath with pinecones and twinkling lights hung above the fireplace.
And then there was Tyrone the Reindeer, hanging perfectly above the fireplace, staring into the soul of every person who dared walk past.
“Perfection,” I breathed, proudly, hands on my hips as I admired the transformation.
Bryce cocked his head. “Tyrone looks like he’s seen things.”
“He has,” Adrian said, walking in and squinting up at the deer. “He saw Isis bedazzle a toaster.”
Isis flounced in front of us with her usual flair and placed a rhinestone-covered cookie jar on the center table like it was a crown jewel. “And it slaps! Y’all gonna be mad when Santa tries to take it back to the North Pole!”
I eyed her skeptically, already suspicious. “Let me see what y’all done did.”
With one hand on her hip, Isis spun around dramatically.
“Follow me to greatness. Let me show y’all what the real talent looks like!”
Isis led the way, like she was hosting a tour of a five-star ski resort sponsored by glitter and main character energy.
When me and Bryce walked into the kitchen, our mouths dropped open slightly. Neither of us said a word for a full beat.
Crystal-clear jars held faux snow and candy canes.
Icicle lights draped across the cabinets like frozen lashes, winking in the light.
The chairs were wrapped in red velvet ribbon with little gold bells that jingled every time someone sat down.
The countertops sparkled with scattered metallic confetti stars and a line of mini nutcrackers standing guard by the spice rack.
Even the refrigerator had been dragged into the holiday madness.
It was decked out with magnetic snowflakes, a plush Santa magnet, and a crooked paper list labeled “Things We Forgot (Again).” Shimmering placemats caught every bit of glow the lights gave, and the “Nice-ish” and “Naughty-ish” dish towels hung like they had gossip to spill.
I didn’t even remember buying half that stuff… but apparently, I did.
I nodded in approval. “Okay, Isis. Décor might really be your thing.”
“Thank you,” she beamed, striking a fake pageant pose.
“Aye!” Adrian jumped in. “I helped too now!”
Isis turned her head dramatically. “And what did you say while you helped, Adrian?”
He grinned, unbothered. “That my masculinity was being tested by glitter and cinnamon sticks.”
We all laughed.
I lit a nearby cinnamon candle and set it gently on the counter. “Now it feels like Christmas… a slightly dysfunctional one, but Christmas, nonetheless.”