6. Chapter 6
Chapter six
Devon
I stood outside the kitchen, steeling myself for what I was about to do. The smell of ginger and nutmeg wafted through the air, a reminder of happier times. Taking a deep breath, I rounded the corner.
Bella stood at the counter, humming “Jingle Bells” under her breath as she rolled out cookie dough. Probably planning to bake her famous snickerdoodles. I felt a familiar tug in my chest, one I’d been trying to ignore since she arrived.
Time to eat crow. “Look, about the sleigh... I overreacted. I shouldn’t have called your work stupid. It’s just... Christmas isn’t exactly my favorite time of year anymore.”
Bella’s rolling slowed as she turned to face me, one auburn eyebrow arched high. “Wow, a real apology? I guess miracles do happen.”
A chuckle escaped before I could stop it, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”
She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Wouldn’t want you to lose that brooding charm.”
I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to smile back. “Charm, huh?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Bella quipped, gesturing with her rolling pin. “It’s very mysterious and alluring. Like a grumpy Christmas elf.”
Her laughter filled the kitchen, and I let myself bask in it, remembering how it used to be my favorite sound in the world. Maybe it still was.
The laughter faded, replaced by a mischievous glint in her eye. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, flour smudging her skin. “You know, I just had an idea. Instead of baking cookies, why don’t we do something more... competitive?”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. “I’m listening.”
“How about a room-decorating contest for my next blog post?” Her excitement was palpable, hands gesturing animatedly. “We’ll each decorate a room, and my viewers can decide who did it best.”
I narrowed my eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You’re on. I might not know how to tie a pretty bow, but I bet I can outdo you.”
Bella’s laugh was more of a snort this time. “Oh please, you wouldn’t know festive if it bit you on your Grinchy behind.”
“Hey, I can decorate!” The protest was half-hearted at best.
I opted for the living room, figuring its natural coziness would give me an edge. Simplicity was key, I reasoned. There was no need for all the frills and fuss Bella was sure to employ.
I hung a wreath on the mantle, draping some garland around it for good measure. A few candles on the coffee table, and... there. Perfect. I stepped back, admiring my handiwork.
And frowned.
It looked bare and lifeless, nothing like the warm, inviting space my parents used to create every Christmas. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and memories of happier holidays threatened to overwhelm me.
A soft giggle from the hallway broke through my thoughts. Bella stood there, trying and failing to hide her amusement. “That’s it? You call that decorating?” She gestured at my sad attempt. “You’re practically handing me the win.”
I crossed my arms, defensive. “It’s minimalist. Classy.”
“It’s depressing,” Bella countered, her eyes softening. “Come on, Devon. I know you can do better than this.”
Before I could respond, a loud, familiar rumble suddenly echoed from outside. My eyes widened in recognition. “Oh no,” I breathed, rushing to the window.
Sure enough, Mrs. Hawthorne was dismounting from her “all-terrain” vehicle with all the grace of a cat on roller skates. She was bundled up in a thick green coat, her silver hair sticking out at odd angles from beneath a fur-trimmed hat.
“What in the world?” The words slipped out, equal parts amused and horrified.
Bella ran to the window, peering out. Her delighted laugh tickled my ear. “Is that Mrs. Hawthorne again?”
“I should have locked the front door. My parents always just told her to come in and help herself, and believe me, she does just that.”
The words were barely out of my mouth when Mrs. Hawthorne burst through the door, shaking snow from her coat and beaming at us. She looked around at the half-decorated space.
“Well, isn’t this festive!” she exclaimed, clapping her mittened hands together. “Figured I’d pop by to check on things. You two lovebirds staying warm?”
I felt my face heat up. “Mrs. Hawthorne, we’re not—“
She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, pish posh. Now then!”
With a flourish that would put magicians to shame, Mrs. Hawthorne reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a sprig of mistletoe. My stomach dropped.
“I remember your parents always hung mistletoe above the door,” she announced, her smile so big you could probably see it from outer space. “I brought some for you two to keep the tradition alive!”
I felt my face heat up. “Mrs. Hawthorne, that’s really not—“
“Nonsense!” she interrupted, grabbing a small ladder Bella was using and marching to the archway between the living room and kitchen. “Every proper Christmas house needs mistletoe. As I said, it’s tradition!”
Bella covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. I shot her a pleading look, silently begging for help, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“There we go!” Mrs. Hawthorne declared, stepping off the ladder to admire her handiwork. She started humming “Deck the Halls” under her breath, shooting not-so-subtle glances between Bella and me.
I caught Bella’s gaze again, and this time I saw a flicker of nervousness beneath her amusement. My heart did a funny little skip. Were we really going to play along with this?
As if reading my mind, Mrs. Hawthorne clapped her hands. “Well, don’t just stand there, you two! That mistletoe isn’t going to kiss itself!”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Mrs. Hawthorne was already in motion. With surprising agility for her age, she maneuvered around us, her hands on our backs guiding us towards the archway.
“Oops! Look where you ended up!” she cackled, giving us a final push.
Suddenly, I found myself face to face with Bella, our bodies mere inches apart under the mistletoe. My gaze dropped to her lips, and I swallowed hard.
Just as I started to lean in, a furry blur shot between us. Her tail wagging furiously, Maple leaped up, her paws landing squarely on my chest.
“Maple!” I spluttered, stumbling backward. In her excitement, her tail knocked over a small reindeer figurine, sending it clattering to the floor.
The tension shattered. Bella burst into giggles, and I couldn’t help but join in, trying to figure out if I was relieved or disappointed.
Mrs. Hawthorne’s chuckle rose above our laughter. “I’ll leave you two to it!” she called out. She dashed out the door, and I looked through the window. She hopped onto her vehicle with surprising grace and zoomed away, still laughing.
I shook my head, trying to regain my composure. “That woman is too much,” I muttered, but I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.
Bella’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well,” she teased, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, “if you wanted an excuse to kiss me, you could have just asked.”
I rolled my eyes, but my usual gruff facade was crumbling. “Right, because that would have gone over so well.”
“You never know,” Bella replied, her voice softer now. “Maybe I would have said yes.”
My breath caught in my throat. Was she serious? I searched her face, looking for any sign that she was joking, but I only saw a vulnerability that matched my own feelings.
Bella’s phone chimed, breaking the moment. She glanced down, then back up at me with a small, hesitant smile. “It’s the tow company. Looks like the snow might be clearing up tomorrow. I could probably get my car fixed soon.”
I was shocked at how disappointed I felt that our time together might end. My heart sank. Of course, she’d want to leave. Why wouldn’t she? I opened my mouth, ready to offer her a ride into town, when she continued.
“I guess you’ll be heading back to practice for your competition, but...” She hesitated, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Would you mind if I stayed here until the interview? I have a lot of decorating to do.”
Relief flooded me, and I had to fight to keep my voice casual. “Not at all. Stay as long as you need.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? You’re not sick of me yet?”
I shrugged, fighting a smile. “Give it time.”
Bella laughed, the sound warming something inside me I thought had long since frozen over.
Later that night, I decided to go check out the attic, needing space to clear my head. Dust motes danced in the dim light as I rummaged through boxes, each one a relic of a past I’d been avoiding.
My fingers brushed something smooth and cool. I pulled it out—an ornate angel, once the crowning glory of our family Christmas tree.
For a moment, I could almost hear Mom’s laughter and smell the scent of her chocolate peppermint brownies. “Higher, Devon!” she’d say as I placed the angel. “It’s got to be perfect!”
I wiped the dust from the ornament’s face, feeling a familiar ache. “Nothing’s perfect anymore, Mom,” I whispered. I stared at the angel’s serene face, and I couldn’t help but wonder—what would she think if she knew I’d let her favorite time of year become such a source of pain for me?
My gaze drifted to the corner of the attic, where a hulking shape lurked beneath a dusty tarp. I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what lay hidden there.
With a deep breath, I yanked the tarp away, revealing Dad’s prized Santa sleigh. Red paint peeled from its surface, and one of the runners hung at an odd angle. I could almost hear Dad’s booming laugh as he’d drag it out each year, determined to make it the centerpiece of our Christmas display.
“Well, Santa,” I said softly, running a hand along its weathered side. “Looks like we’ve both seen better days.”
The guilt hit me like an avalanche. I’d abandoned everything—the house, the traditions, the very essence of what made this place home. And now Bella was here, stirring up memories and emotions I’d tried so hard to bury.
I sank next to the sleigh, my mind racing. “I could fix you up,” I mused, eyeing the broken runner. “Wouldn’t take much. Some paint, a little elbow grease...”
But then the reality of my situation crashed back in. I planned to sell this place to cut ties with Serenity Falls for good. What was the point of restoring a relic of the past?
“God, what am I doing?” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.
Bella’s laughter echoed from downstairs, and my chest tightened. I hadn’t told her about the sale. Every moment we spent together, every shared laugh and every playful jab, made the guilt gnaw deeper.
I glanced back at the sleigh, then down at the angel ornament still clutched in my hand. “What would you do, Mom?” I whispered, but the silence of the attic offered no answers.
The shrill ring of my phone pierced the attic’s dusty silence, making me jump. I fumbled it out of my pocket, squinting at the screen—my coach Eddie Frost.
I took a deep breath and answered. “Hey, Coach.”
“Devon! It’s time to get back to it.” Eddie’s gruff voice boomed through the speaker. “You can’t hide out forever, kid. The slopes are calling, and they’re not happy about being ignored.”
I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache brewing. “I’m not hiding, I’m—“
“You’re what? Practicing your snow angels?” Eddie scoffed. “Look, I know you’ve hit a rough patch, but you can’t let one bad run derail your whole career. It’s time to get back on the horse... or in this case, the ski lift.”
My eyes drifted back to the sleigh. “I’ve got things to take care of,” I said quietly, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice.
“Things?” Eddie’s frustration was obvious. “What could possibly be more important than your training, Montgomery?”
I clenched the phone tighter, a familiar tension building in my chest. But instead of the usual anxiety, I felt calm and resolved.
“I’ll call you back when I’m ready,” I said, then hung up before Eddie could protest further.
The silence that followed felt different. Lighter somehow. I turned back to the sleigh, running my hand along its weathered frame. Some things are worth staying for.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I kneeled beside the sleigh, gently wiping away the dust. “I’m probably going to regret this,” I muttered. But as I worked, a small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. For the first time in years, I felt a spark of the Christmas spirit I’d thought was long dead.