“They already do.”
He touches my cheek like he’s memorizing it.“Tell me to stop seeing you.”
“This is over, Humbug.Blake’s bound to find out.”
“I’ll tell him if you don’t want to.”
“No.”
His lips meet mine before I understand what’s happening.He kisses me slow, less fire than last time, more gravity.When he pulls away, his forehead rests against mine.
“This ain’t a game, Carol.”
“I know.”
“You’ll get burned.”
“Maybe I need to.”
He breathes a laugh, broken and tender all at once.“You don’t even know what kind of man I am.”
“I know enough,” I whisper.“You’re a biker.”
He brushes his thumb along my jaw, sighs.“I used to think I hated Christmas because it lied about love.But maybe I just didn’t know what love looked like till it hit me upside the head.”
I look up at the snow catching in his beard, and my heart makes a choice, my head’s too scared to follow.
I test the water.“Maybe I will tell Blake it’s over.”
“You know I’m going through a divorce,” he says, quick and clipped.
My eyes narrow.“What does that mean?”
“I’ve gotta be careful too.”
Careful?Does he want me to break things off with Blake or not?I don’t ask.
We part right away, because that’s our curse, night is safe, daylight tells on us.As I back into Sno-Globes, I catch myself humming again, soft and low, the same song that makes Humbug flinch.
The water I tested is freezing cold, deep and too dark at the bottom.
Chapter 11
Carol
After our talk in the alley, I think of blocking Humbug.Just to see how he reacts.But there’s no need.Humbug goes silent.The next night at work, I wait for him to show up unexpectedly as always.
I’m expecting the unexpected.That’s nothing new.It’s my curse.The reason I love Christmas, the time miracles are supposed to happen.
The sky turns to wool an hour before close, and by the time I lock Sno-Globes, Humbug hasn’t shown his face.
Maybe my talk of breaking up with Blake scared him off.Because if I’m not with Blake, Humbug and I’d have to face whatever’s brewing between us.
Outside, Evervale is gone, blurred out under a gray so thick it eats the lights as I walk home.Every breath I take is knives.Wind shoves me sideways.I hold my coat closed with one hand and call Blake with the other, but the call drops twice, the cold chewing on the signal like it’s brittle candy.
Headlights ghost the street, then vanish.I try to walk toward my place and get nowhere.The drifts have grown knees.That’s when I hear rumble.
The Executioners’ tow truck noses out of the white like a ship, cab stacked with snow, wipers fighting for their lives.The passenger window rolls down, and Humbug leans across, breath fogging.“Get in,” he says, like even the storm obeys him.
