21. Elijah
CHAPTER 21
Elijah
I stood in the corner of Nathan and Rebecca’s living room, nursing a mug of eggnog and watching the holiday chaos unfold. The scent of fresh pine filled the air as the family bustled around the Christmas tree, hanging ornaments and tinsel with cheerful abandon. Laughter echoed off the walls, accompanied by the quiet Christmas music Rebecca had turned on the TV.
“Eli, catch!” Nathan called out, tossing a sparkly star my way. I fumbled it, nearly spilling my drink in the process. I sighed in relief that it didn’t shatter on the floor.
“Nice hands,” he teased.
I forced a chuckle and pretended to chuck it at his head after I picked it up, but inside I felt a pang. Nathan was here, surrounded by his perfect family. A wife who loved him and boys who thought he hung the moon. And where did that leave me?
Still the screw-up, apparently. Couldn’t even close the deal with Carla. I’d thought of nothing else since the night we’d talked on the patio. She hadn’t answered my calls, and her text messages had been short and lacked all the warmth I had grown used to. I kept telling myself that she was busy with work. Meanwhile, I was on my forty-eight hours off duty. Forty-eight hours that had slowed to a complete crawl without glimpses of her during my days.
It may have only been two days since Nathan and Rebecca got home and Carla and I had moved out of this house, but a couple more days of this and I’d lose my mind.
I wanted to talk to her about what Nathan had told me. The whole thing was crazy, but I understood a little more about why my dad felt so strongly about her family. Still, it had been decades and Carla wasn’t at fault.
Kenneth Putnam had died years ago, but the feud lived on. What a legacy.
Rebecca expertly wrangled their kids into helping with the lower branches, subtly rearranging the ornaments after they placed them. I couldn’t help but notice how in sync she and Nathan seemed. The rocky patch in their marriage was clearly behind them. They moved around each other with easy familiarity, stealing quick kisses anytime they were close.
My mind drifted back to Carla and the moments we’d shared over the week together. Late night conversations on the couch, walks through the neighborhood. Her laugh as I quoted 21 Jump Street when she talked about her classes. The way her hand would linger on my arm, eyes sparkling...
“Earth to Eli!” Rebecca’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You gonna help decorate or just stand there looking pretty?”
I plastered on my trademark smirk. “Oh, my bad. I thought you invited me so I would be the decoration. I mean, it’s a tough job looking this good, but I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”
Nathan and Alex groaned in reply to my jokes, and I sighed in relief. This was familiar, at least.
As I reluctantly joined the decorating fray, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider in my own family. Nathan and Rebecca’s picture-perfect reunion only highlighted my own shortcomings.
I sighed, reaching for another ornament. My gaze drifted to the kitchen table, where my nephews were now hunched over gingerbread house kits, their little tongues poking out in concentration.
“Uncle Eli!” Linc called out. “Can you help me stick this roof on? It keeps falling off!”
I plastered on a smile and sauntered over. “Sure thing, buddy. Let’s see what we can do about this architectural disaster.”
As I helped Linc, Joey, and Alex with their wobbly gingerbread creations, my mind wandered. Would Carla and I ever have moments like this with our own kids? The thought sent a shiver of both longing and fear through me.
“You’re good with them,” Rebecca commented, appearing at my elbow with a mug of hot cocoa.
I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “Nah, I just haven’t grown up myself. Makes it easy to relate.”
Rebecca’s knowing look told me she wasn’t buying it. “I’m serious. You did great with them while we were gone. And you’d make a great dad someday. When you’re ready.”
Her words, meant to be encouraging, only twisted the knife of self-doubt deeper. I thought of my father’s disapproving frown, his harsh words still ringing in my ears: “When are you gonna grow up and take some responsibility, Elijah? You can’t coast by on your charm forever.”
I swallowed hard, focusing on squeezing icing out of the bag. “Yeah, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ve got to master gingerbread engineering first.”
Thirty sticky fingers and a deluge of sprinkles later, I stepped away from the table, handing the reins off to Rebecca. The festive chaos was becoming overwhelming. I needed air. “I’m gonna step out for a bit,” I mumbled, making my way through the living room.
As I pushed open the front door, the blast of cold air hit me like a wake-up call. I inhaled deeply, letting the crisp winter night fill my lungs. The porch creaked under my feet as I moved to the railing, bypassing the swing where I’d sat with Carla. My hands gripped the weathered wood.
Out here, away from the warmth and laughter inside, I could finally breathe. But with that breath came the flood of thoughts I’d been trying to keep at bay all evening.
I closed my eyes, picturing Carla’s smile, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed. God, I wanted that – wanted her – more than I’d ever admit out loud. But the image morphed, Carla’s bright expression fading to disappointment. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself fumbling, failing, letting her down just like I’d let down everyone else.
I couldn’t even get my act together in my own fantasies.
The worst part was, I could see it all so clearly – the life we could have. Sunday dinners with both our families, Carla corralling our kids while I manned the grill. Quiet nights by the fire, her head on my shoulder as we talked about our day. But then my father’s voice would creep in, reminding me of all the ways I’d never measure up.
I sighed, my breath forming a misty cloud in the cold air. I needed to face it. I was better off putting out house fires than trying to build a home.
I gripped the porch railing, feeling the bite of cold wood against my palms. The yard stretched out before me until it disappeared in the stretch of trees I’d watched with Carla on Saturday night. It was beautiful, peaceful – everything I wasn’t feeling inside.
Everything inside me longed to talk to Carla, but maybe she wasn’t feeling the same, judging by the unanswered calls. I should just move on.
Except, I was too stubborn for that. I wouldn’t give up without a fight. Carla had asked for time, and I’d given it to her. Two days wasn’t much, but time was up. And besides, with the new info about the rift between our families, maybe the situation wasn’t so hopeless as before.
I just had to convince Carla to give us a shot. The feelings we shared weren’t just some relic of the week we spent sharing a house. I’d never felt anything more real. And I couldn’t walk away.
Two days and one long shift at the station later, I was at the Minden Christmas Market, held at the county fairgrounds. I knelt down next to a little girl with pigtails, her eyes wide as saucers as she reached for one of our plastic fire helmets.
“There you go, sweetheart,” I said, gently placing it on her head. “Now you’re officially part of the Minden Rogers Fire Department Junior Squad.”
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really? Can I put out fires now?”
I chuckled, my heart warming at her enthusiasm. “Well, not quite yet. But you know what’s even more important than putting out fires? Preventing them in the first place.”
She tilted her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “How do we do that?”
“Great question,” I said, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Say, do you believe in Santa Claus?”
She nodded vigorously, her pigtails bouncing.
“Well, here’s a secret,” I leaned in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Santa’s pretty good at squeezing down chimneys, but he’s not a fan of actual fire in the fireplace. So on Christmas Eve, make sure to tell your parents to leave the fire out. Blow out candles before bed and don’t play with the stove, okay?
“Deal!” she exclaimed, beaming up at me.
As she scampered off to show her parents her new hat, I couldn’t help but smile. It was moments like these that remind me why I became a firefighter in the first place. Sure, initially it was to prove something to my dad, but now? Now it’s about these kids, this community. And a little about the adrenaline.
The sound of carolers warming up caught my attention, and I straightened, brushing off my knees. The familiar strains of “Silent Night” drifted across the pavilion, and I found myself humming along, scanning the festive crowd.
That’s when I saw her.
Standing there in a red sweater, Carla’s hair caught the twinkling lights strung up around the square. She hadn’t noticed me yet, her attention on the carolers, a soft smile playing on her lips. Man, that smile. I wanted to see it every day.
I should look away. I should focus on handing out more helmets, on being the responsible firefighter, on anything but her. But I couldn’t. It was as if she had her own gravitational pull, and I was helpless to resist.
“Hey, Eli!” Kyle called out. “We’re running low on stickers. Can you grab some from the truck?”
“Uh, yeah,” I replied, reluctantly tearing my gaze away from Carla. “I’m on it.”
As I turned back, my eyes instinctively sought her out again. And this time, Carla was looking right at me. The world around us seemed to blur, the festive chaos fading into a muffled hum. Her dark eyes locked onto mine, and I swore I could feel the electricity crackling between us, even from across the building.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The twinkling lights, the carolers’ voices, the laughter of children – it all melted away. There was only Carla, her gaze holding mine with an intensity that made my heart race.
I didn’t even realize I was moving until I heard Kyle’s confused voice behind me. “Eli? Where are you going? What about the stickers?”
“I, uh...” I fumbled for words, my eyes still fixed on Carla. “Cover for me for a sec, will you?”
Without waiting for a response, I stepped away from the booth. My feet carried me forward of their own accord, weaving through the crowd. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of anticipation and nervousness making my palms sweat.
What was I doing? I continued to push through the throng of festival-goers. This was crazy. Dad would flip if he found out. And seeing as the entire tri-county area had turned out for the Christmas Market, he would definitely hear about it.
But for once, I didn’t care what my dad would think. All I knew was that I had to talk to her, to bridge this gap between us.
As I got closer, doubt started to creep in. What if she didn’t want to talk to me? What if I was misreading everything? But then Carla’s lips curved into a small, hesitant smile, and suddenly, none of those fears mattered anymore.
I was done letting our families’ feud dictate my life. It was time to take a risk, whatever the consequences may be.
The festival’s twinkling lights danced in Carla’s eyes as I approached, casting a warm glow on her face. “Carla,” I said, my voice coming out huskier than I’d intended.
“We need to talk about the–”
“I found out something you should know.”
“Oh, you–”
“No, go ahead.”
Our words tripped over one another, and we both smiled.
I stepped closer. “I missed you,” I admitted softly, setting aside the rest of what needed to be said for now. My feelings wouldn’t be pushed down any longer.
“Me too,” she admitted, ducking her gaze away from mine.
The words tumbled out, fueled by years of pent-up emotions. “I’m terrified of disappointing my dad.”
Carla’s eyes widened, a hint of fear in them, but I pressed on.
“But you know what scares me even more? The thought of losing you. Again.” I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. A small voice in the back of my mind screamed, What are you doing? You’re ruining everything! But for once, I ignored it. I was tired of being the family screw-up, tired of letting fear dictate my choices.
“I know our families have this whole Romeo and Juliet thing going on,” I continued, attempting a weak smile, “but I don’t care anymore. I’d give up everything if it meant I could be with you.”
I held my breath, waiting for her response. The carolers finished their song, and the only sound was the applause of the crowd and my own thundering heartbeat.
I watched as Carla’s expression softened. She took a deep breath, and I braced myself for rejection.
“Eli,” she began, her voice low and steady, “I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that you were just the town playboy, and that what we had was nothing more than a teenage crush.”
My heart sank, but then she reached out and touched my arm. The warmth of her fingers sent a jolt through me, and suddenly I was seventeen again, stealing kisses under the bleachers.
“But…” She shook her head, a wry smile playing on her lips. “I can’t keep pretending.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “So, you’re saying...”
“I’m saying that I’ve been comparing every guy to you for years,” she admitted, rolling her eyes at herself. “And they all come up short.”
A grin spread across my face, but Carla wasn’t finished. Her expression grew serious, and she glanced around before leaning in closer.
“There’s something you need to know about our families,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “My family, I mean.”
“I already know, sweetheart.”
Carla sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Then you know why your dad hates my family. You know that we deserve it.”
Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “Carla, no. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
Her eyes grew glossy, and my heart cracked at the pain I saw in them. “That’s why you’ve been dodging my calls,” I murmured, the pieces falling into place.
Carla nodded. “How can I ask you to walk away from your family when mine are the ones who wronged your aunt?”
My voice was firm. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. I think it’s time this feud was put to bed once and for all. But if my dad can’t help but hold the sins of your grandfather against you, then I don’t want any part of being his family.”
“You can’t mean that,” she argued.
“I mean every word, sweetheart. You’re my family. I love you more than anything or anyone else in this world.” And I would spend every single day proving that to her.
Her sweet smile reassured me that I’d said the right thing.
“I…I love you, too,” she said through a laugh, her eyes wide with joy.
A rush of emotions surged through me—relief, elation, and a fierce protectiveness that made my chest ache.
I pulled her into my arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead, relishing how perfectly right she felt against me. Then, I dropped my lips to hers. Her breath hitched, soft and warm against my skin, as her fingers curled into the front of my shirt like I was her anchor in a storm. I would be that anchor, I promised myself. Nothing had ever made me confident the way her trust did.
The taste of her was a blend of sweetness and spice, sending a surge of heat straight to my chest. The buzz of the town melted into the background, replaced by the thunderous rhythm of my heart, calling to hers with every beat. I was claiming her once and for all, in front of the entire town of Minden.
And I had never been happier.