Grace snorted. “Given your involvement in the PTA, I wouldn’t be shocked if you lobbied for it.”
Anna grinned, unrepentant. “Once a mermaid, always a diva.”
Bryant stepped forward, clearing his throat. “There’s a carriage lined up,” he said, nodding toward the edge of the square. “With the horses and everything. Caroline said you might want to ride?”
Grace blinked. “Like, a sleigh ride?”
Bryant shrugged. “Less sleigh, more wagon, but yeah. Hot chocolate included. I checked.”
Caroline leaned in. “You have to go, Gracie. It’s tradition. Next year, they’ll probably try to mechanize it, and then where will we be? Trapped in a Tesla with an animatronic Rudolph.”
Grace hesitated, but Bryant gave her a smile that was all crooked earnestness. “If you don’t want to, we can stay here?—”
She interrupted him. “No, I want to. Really. I just—” She looked at her friends, their faces expectant and, in Caroline’s case, borderline predatory. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Bryant offered her his arm. She took it, ignoring the warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the layers of wool and polyester.
They crossed the square, weaving through clumps of families and teens, past a group of carolers whose harmonies had started to fray after the third hour outdoors. At the curb, a pair of horses, patient and enormous, waited hitched to a white carriage decorated with silver bows. The driver, a high school sophomore in a red velvet jacket, grinned and waved them aboard.
They climbed in, settling onto the broad bench seat, and the driver handed them both insulated travel mugs. Grace took hers, testing the lid before sipping. The chocolate was molten and thick, spiked with something that numbed her lips. She shot Bryant a look.
He smiled, sheepish. “Caroline’s influence.”
They rode in silence for a few seconds, the clip-clop of the horses muffled by the snow. The town blurred by, every house lit up, every window a diorama of family life or staged perfection. Grace wondered if the residents ever tired of the forced cheer, if they rebelled in secret with blackout curtains and silent nights. She doubted it.
Bryant broke the silence. “I used to do this every year with my mom. Before she got sick.” He didn’t sound sad, just matter-of-fact. “She loved the lights. Used to say the dark only won if you let it.”
Grace traced the rim of her mug. “She sounds smart.”
He nodded. “She was. Dad was the strict one, but she was the glue.” He hesitated, then said, “Do you ever think about next year?”
It was an odd question, especially for someone who’d spent most of the last two months keeping people alive one week at a time. Grace considered it, the idea of a whole future stretching out, uninterrupted by visions or disaster. She tried to imagine herself in this carriage next year, older, maybe happier, definitely more confident in the coat.
“Yeah,” she said. “I do. Not in detail, but… yeah.”
He sipped his own chocolate, thinking. “I’ll probably still be here. Deputy until I retire, then I’ll just fish and do odd jobs. I like fixing things. The mayor’s always looking for volunteers to build parade floats.” He grinned. “You?”
Grace smiled, the answer easier than she’d expected. “Fix up my house. Maybe start running again, if the sidewalks ever thaw. Have my name as a constant presence on the police payroll as a psychic—” She paused, laughing at herself. “That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
Bryant’s expression didn’t change. “Not at all. They’re already benefiting from your talent.”
She looked out at the street, at the children pelting each other with handfuls of cottony snow. “I want to stay here,” she said, surprising herself. “I hadn’t thought very much about this being my forever place in the beginning, but it definitely is.”
He was silent a moment, then reached across the carriage and covered her hand with his. His gloves were rough, the skin beneath even rougher. “I’d like it if you stayed,” he said.
Grace felt her cheeks flush, but it was a good heat. “You barely know me,” she said, teasing.
Bryant smiled, slow and sure. “I know you enough.”
At that moment, the town’s fireworks launched. First, a single gold streamer, then a fan of blue and red, then a full barrage of exploding light. The horses stopped at the corner, driver turning to let them watch as the sky filled with stars and the reflected glow danced in the snowbanks.
Bryant leaned closer, voice low. “If I kiss you, are you going to see the future?”
Grace grinned. “If you’re lucky, maybe.”
He kissed her, careful at first, then more certain as she kissed back. The snow, the fireworks, the town’s overzealous music, all of it faded. For a minute, there was only warmth, and the taste of chocolate, and the steady beat of her own heart.
When they pulled apart, Grace was smiling so hard her jaw hurt. “You know,” she said, “if you keep doing that, I’ll get used to it.”
