Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Leo was three slices into a mediocre frozen pizza when his phone started ringing somewhere in the house. The sound was muffled, distant, and it took him a moment to place it—not the kitchen counter, not his coat pocket, not the usual spots.
The ringing continued, insistent.
He abandoned his plate and followed the sound through the living room, finally tracking it to the couch where it had apparently slid between the cushions at some point during his earlier attempt at a nap that had really just been staring at the ceiling for two hours.
“Hello?” he answered, slightly out of breath.
“Leo! Finally!” Mayor Clark’s voice boomed through the speaker with characteristic enthusiasm. “I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. We need to finalize some details for Sunday.”
Leo’s stomach dropped. “Actually, Mr. Mayor, I already told you—”
“Yes, yes, about Vixen’s leg. Terrible timing, but I’m hoping we can work something out. What if we do shorter routes? Or maybe just use Comet and Snowflake for lighter loads? The Tree Lighting isn’t the same without sleigh rides, Leo. People are asking about it constantly.”
“I understand, but—”
“The Hendersons are bringing their grandkids specifically for the rides. And the Petersons. Half the families in town have been planning around this for weeks. Surely there’s some way we can make it work?”
Leo closed his eyes, the weight of community expectations pressing down on him. “I don’t think so. Vixen’s the steadiest of the team, and without her—”
“But you’ve got four other reindeer, don’t you? Strong, healthy animals?”
“It’s not that simple—”
“I know, I know. I’m not trying to pressure you.” The mayor’s voice softened slightly. “I just hate to see people disappointed. Especially the kids. Lila must be heartbroken about missing out.”
“She is,” Leo admitted, remembering her face when he’d told her yesterday morning. The way her excitement had crumbled into confused disappointment. “But it can’t be helped.”
“Of course, of course. Animal welfare comes first. I’ll just have to figure out how to break it to everyone.” The mayor sighed heavily. “The timing is particularly unfortunate with... well, with everything else going on.”
Something in his tone made Leo pause. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, just the festival in general. So much coordination, so many moving pieces. You know how these things are.” The mayor’s voice was carefully neutral. “Anyway, I should let you go. But Leo—if anything changes, if Vixen’s leg improves faster than expected, you’ll let me know?”
“Of course,” Leo said, the lie sitting like lead in his stomach.
“Good, good. We’ll talk soon.”
The line went dead, leaving Leo standing in his living room holding his phone and trying to parse what had just happened.
The mayor hadn’t mentioned canceling the festival.
Hadn’t said anything about Jade pulling out or the booths being dismantled.
Just... talked about disappointed families and unfortunate timing.
Maybe Jade hadn’t told him yet. Maybe she was waiting to make it official, working through the details with Mr. Connors about the sale. It wasn’t Leo’s place to break that news to the mayor. That was between Jade and the town council.
Leo sat down heavily on the couch and noticed he had some texts from earlier that afternoon.
They were from Jade.
Hey, just confirming Sunday logistics. Start time still 6pm? Will touch base about the route.
Let me know if you need anything from us for the rides. Want to make sure we’re coordinated.
Leo stared at the screen, reading the messages twice, then a third time.
Sunday logistics?
Making sure they are coordinated?
Why was she texting him about that if there were no booths due to the bakery sale?
Maybe she was just being professional, tying up loose ends before the sale went through. Or maybe she felt obligated to Mabel, to follow through with the festival even though it didn’t matter anymore.
Leo set his phone down on the coffee table and ran his hands through his hair. This didn’t make sense. She’d said selling was the only option. Had listed off all the reasons why—the electrical work, the money they didn’t have, the impossible mathematics of it all.
So why was she still talking about it?
His phone buzzed with another text, this one from his brother Steve:
Lila says you’re not doing the sleigh rides for the festival? She’s pretty upset about it. What’s going on?
Right. He’d explained to Lila yesterday morning when she’d asked about helping with the festival. Told her about Vixen’s leg, how they couldn’t do the rides this year. She’d been disappointed but sweet about it, the way she always was when things didn’t work out.
And Lila, bless her heart, couldn’t keep information to herself if her life depended on it. She’d probably mentioned it to Mabel when she stopped by the bakery. Or to her teacher. Or to Ruth and Ida, who always needed to know what was going on.
Which meant half the town probably knew by now that there wouldn’t be sleigh rides.
But somehow, Jade didn’t?
Leo picked up his phone again, staring at her texts. The casual tone, the assumption that everything was still happening. Like she had no idea he’d backed out.
Like she was still counting on him.
His chest felt tight. Through the window, he could see lights blazing at the bakery across the fence line. Movement inside—Jade and Mabel, probably, working late. Still baking, still preparing.
Still fighting, even though she’d said it was hopeless.
Or had she said that? Leo tried to replay their conversation, but all he could remember clearly were his own words. The cruelty of them. The way he’d twisted her pragmatism into proof of betrayal.
Caring doesn’t pay electrical bills.
He’d said that. Had thrown her own desperate honesty back at her like a weapon.
And now she was texting as if she trusted him. Like she had no reason to doubt he’d be there.
Leo’s thumb hovered over the keyboard. He should respond. Should tell her the truth. Should explain that he wasn’t doing the rides.
But that would mean admitting he’d bailed. Would mean facing her reaction—hurt or anger or that careful professional distance that would somehow be worse than either.
Would mean confirming that he was exactly the coward he suspected he’d become.
Leo set the phone down without responding and walked back to the kitchen, where his pizza had gone cold.
Through the window, the bakery lights continued to glow. Warm and inviting and completely confusing.
What was Jade doing over there?
And why did the answer suddenly feel like the most important question in the world?