And in my head, even though I hate it, I hear her hum.
Chapter 9
Carol
The week after the robbery feels like a dream someone spliced with a hangover.Sno-Globes reopens with new locks on the door, and the same old regulars pretending nothing happened.I go through the motions, pour, smile, breathe.
Evervale hums with fake cheer again.Tourists crowd the square for cocoa and photos under the spruce.Inside the bar, candy-cane martinis sparkle under the lights.I keep humming Christmas songs because it’s muscle memory.The whole town runs on habit.
It’s my day shift when Jimmy, my boss, calls a meeting, telling us, “I’m finally selling.”We all know what he means.
The corporation who owns most of Evervale has had their eye on this piece of land since I was a kid.They want to expand, take over the businesses outside their boundary.Sno-Globes will be bulldozed in favor of something more wholesome.
The fact that he says this all the time didn’t make me any less devastated.Ginger calls a secret meeting.We organize a collection.Maybe if the town chips in Jimmy won’t give up.We’ve changed his mind before.
Blake stops by the next day, careful and polite.He brings me lunch, kisses my cheek, calls me brave.I tell him the bad news, but he doesn’t get how it’s bad.
“Maybe it’s time for a change,” he says like I don’t owe this town and Sno-Globes my life.
When I don’t answer, he asks, “When do you get off.”Blake's clingy since Christmas, like he senses my mind’s been on another man.
“I’m working a double,” I say.“Why?”
“We’ve not exchanged presents, yet.”
I shrug.
“It’s not like you to lose your Christmas spirit.”
Gasping like he smacked me, I sigh.He’s right.“I know.I’m still on edge.From the robbery.”
“Then maybe you need to take some time off from Sno-Globes.”
“No, I don’t need that.”Doing that would mean more time that I would have to fill lying to him.
“I’m taking you out tonight, and I’m staying over,” Blake announces like he deserves a medal.
I nod and smile like it’s fine, and he leaves, satisfied for now.But the truth is I’ve been avoiding him since Christmas.
By eight o’clock, the door swings open and leather and exhaust slides in with the reason why.
The Evervale Executioners MC.
Three of them crowd the doorway first.I try to read their cuts, Frost, Rednose, and a blond kid with a scar that looks permanent.Behind them, Humbug walks in last.His eyes find me like a bad habit.
My pulse stumbles.
Not seeing him or hearing from him since the night he saved me, the night we fucked, I tell myself to stay professional.I tell myself the floor needs mopping.But the truth is I haven’t drawn a full breath since I left him that morning.
“Evenin’, sweetheart.”Frost grins, dropping cash on the counter.“Round of bourbons.Executioners’ tab.”
“You don’t have one.”
“Guess we’ll keep payin’ cash then.”
They settle at the corner table.But Humbug doesn’t go sit right away.He leans against the bar instead, fingers drumming near the napkin holder.His knuckles have healed.
“You okay?”I ask quietly.
