Chapter 6 #2
Her expression softens with understanding. The connection between us strengthens, a bridge forming over the quiet night.
“This trip wasn’t part of my plans either,” she admits, surprising me with the voluntary information. “But not everything about it has been bad.”
A wooden sign catches my attention, directing visitors toward the “Winter Lights Walk” with an arrow pointing down a side street. Strings of white lights curve away from the main square, disappearing into the residential area beyond.
“Want to check it out?” I nod toward the sign.
Elle hesitates, then nods. “Why not?”
We leave the crowded square behind, following the path of lights into quieter streets.
The transformation takes my breath—every tree wrapped in tiny white bulbs, luminarias lining both sides of the sidewalk, their soft glow reflecting off the snow.
Paper lanterns in jewel tones sit nestled in snowbanks, casting pools of colored light across the pristine white.
Kids dart past with glow sticks, trailing neon streaks through the winter darkness.
The noise of the festival fades behind us, replaced by the crunch of our footsteps and the occasional burst of laughter from families ahead. The intimacy of the quieter street shifts something between us.
Elle walks close enough that our shoulders brush with each step. Neither of us moves away.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, her breath creating small clouds in the cold air.
“Yeah.” I’m not looking at the lights.
A little girl ahead clutches her father’s hand, pointing up at the twinkling branches overhead. He hoists her onto his shoulders, and her delighted squeal echoes down the street. The simple moment—father and daughter, pure joy—shouldn’t affect me the way it does.
Elle goes still beside me. Just for a heartbeat, her expression shifts into something raw and unguarded. Longing, maybe. Or loss. Her hand moves unconsciously toward her coat pocket, then drops back to her side.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She blinks, the mask sliding back into place. “Fine. Just... it’s sweet. Watching them.”
The explanation rings hollow, but before I can press, she gestures toward a bench beneath a particularly stunning willow tree, its drooping branches transformed into a waterfall of light.
“Can we sit for a minute? My feet are freezing.”
We settle onto the bench, close enough that our thighs touch through our winter coats.
Elle tilts her head back, watching the lights dance in the slight breeze.
In profile, she looks exactly as she did five years ago—the same curve of her jaw, the same long lashes, the same way she bites her lower lip when she’s thinking too hard.
My hand rests on the bench between us. Her gloved fingers are inches away.
I could close that distance. Should close it, maybe.
But then voices erupt from the direction of the main square—loud, familiar, and definitely drunk.
“Phoenix! Phoenix, my man!”
Casey’s voice carries over the quiet street like a bullhorn. Elle and I both turn as Casey and Theo emerge from the festival crowd, weaving slightly as they navigate the lights path.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, already bracing myself.
They’re wearing the most ridiculous Christmas sweaters I’ve ever seen.
Casey’s features an LED reindeer across his chest, complete with a blinking red nose that flashes in rhythm with his steps.
Theo’s is black with white text reading “Resting Grinch Face” in block letters, a scowling green Grinch beneath the words.
“Found the lovebirds!” Casey announces, throwing his arms wide. “Look what we scored at some lady’s craft booth!”
“You’re drunk,” I observe flatly.
“Tipsy,” Theo corrects, though his usual stoic expression has softened around the edges.
Casey holds up a shopping bag like a trophy. “But check it out—we got you something.”
A sense of impending doom settles over me. “No.”
“You haven’t even seen it yet!” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a sweater that makes his look tasteful by comparison.
It’s bright green with a Christmas tree on the front, covered in actual tinsel and topped with a light-up star.
Small bells dangle from the branches. The back reads “Sleigh All Day” in glittery gold letters.
Elle releases a strangled laugh.
“Absolutely not,” I say firmly.
“Come on!” Casey thrusts it toward me. “It’s tradition. Everyone at the festival’s wearing them. We’re representing Hollow Reign here. One band, one plan, remember?”
“Then you represent us. I’m good.”
Theo smirks. “Afraid it’ll ruin your bad boy image?”
“Terrified,” I deadpan.
Casey turns to Elle with the desperation of a man playing his final card. “Elle. Help me out here. Don’t you want to see Phoenix in this masterpiece?”
Elle’s trying so hard not to laugh that her shoulders shake. She looks at me, then at the sweater, then back at me. Something mischievous sparks in her eyes—a glimpse of the girl who used to dare me to do stupid things just to see if I would.
“It would be cute,” she says, her voice carefully neutral.
“Cute.” I repeat the word like it’s a foreign language.
“Please?” She adds, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “For the full Millfield experience?”
I stare at her. She stares back, eyes bright with barely contained amusement. I’d put on a full Santa suit if it meant making her smile like that.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accuse.
“Immensely.” Her smile breaks free, genuine and wide.
I snatch the sweater from Casey’s hands. “I hate you all.”
“You love us!” Casey crows as I ditch my jacked and yank it over my head.
The tinsel scratches. The bells jingle with every movement. The light-up star starts flashing the moment the sweater settles into place.
Theo pulls out his phone. “This is going in the band group chat.”
“Do it and I’ll put sardines in your guitar case.”
He takes three photos anyway.
Elle has her hand pressed to her mouth, eyes dancing with laughter. She looks younger suddenly, lighter—the chip on her shoulder she’s been carrying since Chicago temporarily lifted.
“There,” I announce, spreading my arms. “Happy now?”
“Very.” The word comes out choked with suppressed laughter.
Casey claps me on the shoulder hard enough to make the bells jingle. “This is why you’re my favorite. Theo fought me for ten minutes about his sweater.”
“You ambushed me in the bathroom,” Theo mutters.
“Details.” Casey waves this away. “Anyway, we’re gonna go find some of that taffy Martha mentioned. Maybe hit up the hot chocolate booth. You kids have fun.” He punctuates this with the most obvious wink in human history.
“Subtlety still not your strong suit,” I tell him.
“Why start now?” He grabs Theo’s arm. “Come on, Grinch. Let’s leave the lovebirds alone.”
They weave back toward the main square, Casey’s reindeer nose blinking like a beacon. Their laughter fades into the general festival noise.
Silence settles over us again, but it’s different now—lighter, charged with something that feels dangerously close to joy.
Elle’s still smiling. “I can’t believe you put that on.”
I sit back down on the bench, bells jingling with the movement. “You use that tone and I’m done for. Always have been.”
The admission hangs between us, heavier than I intended. Elle’s smile softens into something more complicated—pleased and sad and maybe a little scared.
“Phoenix...”
“I know.” I cut her off gently. “Professional boundaries.”
But I don’t move away, and neither does she. The ridiculous sweater flashes between us, the star keeping time like a metronome.
Elle reaches out, her gloved fingers straightening a piece of tinsel that’s come loose. The gesture is intimate despite its innocence, her hand lingering near my chest for a breath longer than necessary.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For being ridiculous. I needed ridiculous tonight.”
“Anytime.” I mean it more than she knows.
She drops her hand but doesn’t retreat. We sit together under the lights, me in possibly the worst sweater ever created, her trying not to laugh every time I move and the bells jingle.
The moment stretches, warm despite the December cold. Elle’s shoulder presses against mine, and this time I’m certain it’s deliberate. Her eyes meet mine, and something electric passes between us before she glances away.