Chapter 42
COOPER
The Christmas market was running like a well-oiled machine. I couldn’t have been more proud of Joy. From my position near the first-aid station, I had a clear view of most of the market grounds, which meant I also had a perfect vantage point to watch Joy dart around like a hummingbird on a mission.
She was handling everything with effortless competence, making it look easy even though I knew firsthand how much work and stress had gone into making this evening possible.
A vendor had a question about electrical hookups?
Joy appeared with the answer and a solution.
A family couldn’t find the restrooms? Joy pointed them in the right direction with a smile that made them feel like helping them was the highlight of her evening.
There was so much happening all around but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was the only one I wanted to see. I barely noticed the kid trip and fall just ten feet in front of me.
The crying snapped me into action.
I jogged over to where the little boy had gone down, his wails cutting through the cheerful Christmas music. He couldn’t have been more than six or seven, with dark hair sticking out from under a knit cap and tears streaming down his red cheeks.
“Hey there, buddy,” I said, crouching down to his level. “You took a little spill there. What’s your name?”
“Dylan,” he hiccupped, holding up his hands to show me scraped palms dusted with dirt and small pebbles.
“Nice to meet you, Dylan. I’m Cooper, and I’m a firefighter. Want to come with me to get those hands cleaned up? I’ve got some really cool bandages in my first-aid kit.”
His crying subsided to sniffles as curiosity took over. “What kind of bandages?”
“The superhero kind,” I said, offering him my hand. “Batman, Spider-Man, maybe even some dinosaurs if you’re lucky. Those are my favorite, but I’m old-fashioned like that.”
Dylan’s eyes widened with interest. He let me help him to his feet. His left knee was scraped too, I noticed, with a small trickle of blood seeping through his torn jeans. Nothing major.
“Are you here with your mom and dad?” I asked as we walked toward the first-aid station.
“My mom. She’s buying stuff at the cookie booth.” He sniffled again, but the tears had stopped. “She told me not to run, but I saw the reindeer and I wanted to pet them.”
“Ah, the reindeer are pretty exciting,” I agreed. “But they’re also a little skittish around lots of people. Sometimes it’s better to look with our eyes instead of our hands, you know?”
I guided him to sit on the folding chair inside the first-aid tent and pulled out my supplies. The scrapes weren’t serious, just surface wounds that needed cleaning and protection.
“This might sting a little bit,” I warned as I opened an antiseptic wipe. “But it’ll help make sure your cuts don’t get infected. You know what infected means?”
Dylan shook his head, watching me with wide eyes.
“It means when germs get into a cut and make it hurt worse and take longer to heal. We don’t want that, right? So we clean it out really good first.” I gently cleaned the dirt from his palms, talking him through each step to keep him distracted. “There we go. You’re being really brave, Dylan.”
“My mom says I’m tough,” he said with a hint of pride.
“Your mom sounds smart. She’s absolutely right—you are tough.” I reached for the box of bandages, making a show of examining the options. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here. We have Batman…”
“Batman!” Dylan interrupted eagerly.
“Batman it is.” I carefully applied the bandage to his worst scrape, smoothing the edges down. “There. Batman’s going to help protect your hand while it heals.”
Suddenly, a terrified woman was running toward me. I noticed Joy watching the scene with a frown. It didn’t take more than two seconds to figure out it was the missing mother.
“Dylan!” the woman called out as she reached the first-aid tent, her face flushed with panic and exertion. “Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?”
“Mom!” Dylan jumped up from the chair, immediately running to her with his bandaged hands held up proudly. “Look! I got Batman!”
The woman, who looked to be in her early thirties with the same dark hair as her son, pulled him into a fierce hug before turning to me with gratitude and embarrassment warring on her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I told him to stay close, but he saw the reindeer and just took off. I’ve been looking everywhere for him.”
“No harm done,” I assured her, standing up and closing the first-aid kit. “He took a little tumble and scraped his hands, but nothing serious. Just needed some cleaning and superhero protection.”
“Batman’s gonna help them heal faster,” Dylan announced, showing his mother the bandages with obvious pride.
She laughed, the relief evident in her voice. “That’s wonderful, honey. What do you say to the nice firefighter?”
“Thank you for fixing me up,” Dylan said solemnly, then brightened. “And for the cool bandages.”
“You’re very welcome, buddy. Remember what we talked about. Sometimes it’s better to look with our eyes, especially around the animals, okay?”
Dylan nodded seriously. “I’ll remember.”
I glanced over and saw Joy watching. She was silently asking if everything was okay. I nodded once, letting her know there was no crisis. She flashed a smile and then rushed over to the nativity scene.
She had been so worried about messing something up and disappointing the town or failing to live up to expectations. But from what I could see, the festival was an unqualified success. I had been keeping an ear out for complaints or problems, and all I had heard were compliments.
It was a shame there was such a dark cloud hanging over the celebration for me. Joy deserved to have this moment be pure triumph, unmarred by relationship drama or small-town gossip. Instead, we were both walking around with this tension between us.
I spotted movement in my peripheral vision that made my stomach clench.
It was that sixth sense we all had when a dangerous predator was in our midst. And then I saw it.
Blonde hair moving through the crowd with malicious intent.
Lynn was here, dressed to stand out like the attention seeker she’d always been.
She was, of course, overdressed for a simple night out for a Christmas market.
She was looking around like she was in search of something specific.
Or someone. I had a sick feeling I knew exactly who that someone was, and it wasn’t baby Jesus.
I couldn’t let her get near me. Not here, not in front of half the town, not when Joy and I were already dealing with enough uncertainty.
Lynn would try some kind of bullshit. It was just her way.
She’d manufacture a scene or create drama where none existed, all in service of getting what she wanted.
I did a quick circuit of the market grounds, checking in with vendors and double-checking some of the electrical connections that had been giving us minor trouble earlier. Everything was running smoothly, exactly as Joy had planned it.
Satisfied that things were in order from a safety standpoint, I grabbed two funnel cakes from Maxine and went looking for Joy.
I had promised to buy one for her, and she could probably use a little break.
Despite all the awkwardness between us lately, I wanted to see her.
We might be saving the serious conversation for later, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t hang out a little bit.
Plus, she really needed to taste Maxine’s funnel cake.
I spotted her near the hot cider stand, talking animatedly with the vendor. Even from a distance, I could see her focused expression.
I headed directly toward her, wondering if she might want some cider too. We hadn’t eaten dinner together in days, and I missed those simple moments of shared comfort food and easy conversation.
I was maybe twenty feet away when Lynn materialized out of nowhere, intercepting my path with the precision of a heat-seeking missile.
“Cooper!” she exclaimed loudly enough to draw attention from everyone nearby. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Before I could run, she grabbed my arm and pressed way too close to me as she kissed my cheek. Her grip was like an iron claw that I couldn’t shake off without creating an even bigger scene.
“Lynn, back the fuck off,” I said quietly, trying to extract myself without making a spectacle.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” she purred, her voice carrying clearly across the space between vendor booths. “Can’t old friends catch up at a Christmas festival?”
She was making a show of our interaction, playing to an audience I hadn’t asked for. Her body language screamed intimacy and familiarity. Anyone watching would think we were having some kind of romantic reunion.
Which was exactly what she wanted them to think.
I glanced toward the cider stand and saw Joy looking in our direction. Even from a distance, I could see the moment her expression shifted from professional focus to hurt and betrayal.
“Joy—” I started, but Lynn yanked me back.
Joy walked quickly in the opposite direction, disappearing into the crowd. She was fleeing and I couldn’t blame her. Lynn had that effect on people.
“Lynn, I’m not playing this game with you,” I said more forcefully, finally managing to pry her fingers off my arm. “Don’t ever touch me.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked with fake innocence. “I just wanted to talk to you. Is that such a crime?”
“Your very existence is a crime,” I replied, anger finally overriding my desire to avoid a scene. “Stay the hell away from me, Lynn. Now and forever.”
I didn’t wait for her response. I pushed through the crowd, following the path Joy had taken, but she had vanished like smoke. I checked the information booth, the storage area behind the main market, even the parking area where vendors had left their vehicles. Nothing.
She was nowhere to be found. Lynn’s little performance had just destroyed whatever fragile progress Joy and I had been making toward that conversation we needed to have.
I found myself standing near the ice tree feeling more frustrated and helpless than I had since this whole mess started.
Joy had seen Lynn hanging all over me. She witnessed what looked like an intimate moment between us, and now she was gone. Running away from me again, just like she had in high school when things got complicated.
Except this time, it wasn’t her fault. This time, I was the one who’d let someone else’s manipulation come between us.
I pulled out my phone and typed a text message: You know that wasn’t what it looked like. And we still need to talk.
A text wasn’t going to fix this but I sent it anyway. Joy had seen what she’d seen, and no amount of explanation via text was going to undo the damage Lynn had just caused.
I needed to find Joy and explain in person. I needed to tell her that Lynn’s little performance meant nothing, that her grabbing onto me was manipulation and desperation, not any affection on my part.
But first, I had to find her. And judging by how quickly she’d disappeared, that was going to be easier said than done.
I started walking through the market again, this time with single-minded purpose.
I checked every booth, every corner, every possible hiding place.
Joy couldn’t have left the festival entirely—she was too responsible to abandon her post when the evening was in full swing. She had to be here somewhere.
I just hoped she’d be willing to listen when I found her.
She was the one person whose opinion mattered most.
Lynn had gotten exactly what she wanted. She played her hand perfectly. I walked right into her trap.
Now I had to figure out how to undo the damage before it was too late.
Before Joy decided that whatever was building between us wasn’t worth the complication and heartache.