“She’s beautiful.” The way Ivy doesn’t use the past tense to refer to my sister endears me even more to her.
“So, that’s why I wasn’t there.” My voice is quiet, sounding almost like it’s coming from outside of myself.
“Losing her must’ve been—must be—really hard. It sounds like you’ve lost so much, Jace. And I’m really sorry for that.”
She’s giving me a look of empathy mixed with uncertainty. Now, she knows why I wasn’t there for her. She doesn’t yet know the lengths I went to find her. But I don’t feel like I can rat out her brother for something I probably would’ve done too if someone hadn’t shown up for Angie. After all, I hadn’t even had the chance to tell him about Mina’s passing that day at the cookie shop. To him, I was just the loser who’d disappointed his sister. And I was too tired at the time to fight his opinion of me.
“Jace, I . . .” Ivy’s voice breaks the silence, something softer within her tone. “I know you’re not here for very long, but . . . would you . . . I mean, would you want to try to get to know each other again—or rather, for the first time—while you’re here?”
Incredulously, I stare at her. Is it possible that she just said what I heard her say? Her question adds a weighted vest to my chest. I want to give in to her hot-chocolate eyes, her voice laced with compassion, her expression—tentative but hopeful. The emotion builds toward the backs of my eyes, and I scrunch my nose. The idea of starting over and leaving everything behind is more appealing by the second. Because facing my past and this woman is already proving to be agony. I want to be near her. But the truth of what that would mean for me feels like my heart is about to enter a twelve-round championship match in a ring.
She lifts her chin a little higher, giving me a perfect glimpse of her cheekbones, the curve of her mouth, and the slope of her neck under the turtleneck. I have a lot of love to give, but it’s trapped beneath my hands. I’m scared to touch her again, never mind to love her. I may have grown over the years, but for this battle, I’m not yet strong enough.
I’ve come a long way since Jenna. I’ve developed as a dad, as a trainer, and as a woodworker. But I’m stuck. My love life is on the floor of the ring, with one count remaining before I tap out. The last thing I want to do is disappoint her again.
Her eyes search my face, trailing deliciously over every feature. I would be self-conscious, but the heat in her gaze has burned it away. Even if I shouldn’t allow her in, I want her to see me. I want her to know me. If I had one Christmas wish, it would be that she would have the chance to know me like no one else ever has. But I’m just not strong enough to risk my heart yet.
“I’m sorry, Ivy. But you shouldn’t hope for anything.”
Ivy steps away from me, a fiery determination replacing the softness in her eyes. “You know, Jace, all those years ago, I thought I might have found someone special. I should’ve known better than to expect a Christmas miracle.”
With that, she spins around, and her red coat disappears through the exit. I’m left behind, the noise of the village adding to the loneliness that I’ve gifted to myself.
Even with the added clarity of Ivy’s opinion of me, her presence at this unexpected meeting and unexpected confession was enough to crack something in my ribs like a glow stick.
I realize that I’ve never before had to prove myself to her. When we flirted, shared, and hoped in those few hours we experienced together, it came as naturally to me as anything else. As I walk back to Angie’s with tinsel somehow stuck to my coat, the urge to begin reading a new fantasy series that’s still in its plastic wrap on my bookshelf at home consumes me. It may not be much, but it’s a stirring of the version of me I used to like. It’s a line of piped frosting on a plain gingerbread man, indicating it’s nowhere near finished but more complete than when I arrived.
Chapter Eight
Ivy
In an unexpected turn of events, Jace and I spent time with each other at the Christmas Village a few days ago, and somehow, I survived. When I showed up and discovered that I’d been tricked, I tried to leave, but the crowd (and Ollie and Gladys) forced us together. It turns out that it was an opportunity to talk to the man I once knew, but the experience might as well have been walking through a metaphorical graveyard that refused to revive the man I once knew.
It’s not like we waited for each other. We had one impromptu date that I’ve thought about for the past eight years, but now he’s all rough edges where once he seemed so smooth. The shock that he was and is still single rattles my heart.
I’ve thought of him. I pictured him married and raising kids. It turns out that at least part of what I imagined is true. His daughter is the most adorable little girl I’ve ever taught. When she joined my class, I felt that same sense of knowing each other before we even met that I felt with Jace. My heart wishes I knew the reason.
And now, tonight is Birch Borough’s Christmas Parade. As the end of November merges into December, our town enters a season of event after event to celebrate the holiday spirit. I love it; I really do. But I’m just not sure I’m in the mood to see Liamdressed as Buddy the Elf and his social-media famous cat, A-cat-pella, on a float, followed by Mayor Brooks in a Santa suit riding on top of a Wicked Good Farms pickup truck. If we’re lucky, some of the local high school kids will launch snowflake confetti into the air out of miniature cannons to mark the official start of the season. I’m not sure I’m ready for any of it.
I tap my boot on the sidewalk, focusing on the unlit LED snowflakes that have been strung across the street. Their clear structure sticks out against the milky grey sky. With a shiver, I wrap my coat more tightly around my waist, waiting for Grey as I wrestle with my thoughts.
This year, not only has Jace been on my mind ever since he showed up at my dance studio, but all I can think about is how much I still need someone to help me with my Christmas ballet production. The start of this season of spirited events just means that we’re that much closer to our performances, and I still don’t have a set or a backdrop for our condensed version of The Nutcracker and a holiday special. When I took over the studio, instead of putting on a whole big production of the famous ballet, I decided to take a few of the famous numbers, make them my own, and then add in a few festive pieces to round it out. That way, I ensured every one of my students could get involved and feel like they matter to our success without the pressure of competing with every other nearby studio and company who also perform the celebrated ballet.
In addition, I also knew I could never achieve the level of performance I’ve done in cities across the world on my own. And besides the few people who have volunteered to help with setup, I’ve pretty much been on my own as the town’s resident dance teacher.
But since Andy from Fixin’s Hardware Store fell off a ladder a few weeks ago (thankfully, he only sprained his ankle and his pride), my go-to set designer is out of commission. I don’t knowhow to do the production this year without him, and everyone else in town has been signed up since last year with their own respective holiday duties. I could seek out help from someone in a surrounding town, but that feels like sacrilege, considering this is a Birch Borough event. For town events, we don’t bring in outside assistance. Our general sentiment is Why would we?
“Ivy!”
I hear a masculine voice behind me, the single word cutting through the wind. When I turn, Edgar is walking toward me. He’s nearly running to catch up with me even though I am standing still. I’m guessing he always moves as if he’s approaching a finish line. We’ve never become close friends since he moved to town, but we’ve been friendly. Edgar is a nice guy. We don’t see him as often as his sister.But as he approaches, I feel the flush creeping up my neck because I can’t believe I didn’t see the similarities between him and Jace before.
In the past, when Edgar mentioned a brother, it was always an abstract reference. Now that I know his brother is Jace, all the times he talked of a brother feel like I’ve been living in a dream, a whole series of unknown events orchestrating me back to that one night. One night that ended up being a dream turned nightmare that I can’t seem to escape from.
“Do you need me for something, Edgar?” I ask, finding my voice. I want to try to end this conversation before it has even started.
“Yeah,” he says. “I just wanted to say that I found someone who could help you with your production. I was going to volunteer, but I think I’d do more harm than good . . .”
At the look of possibility on his face, I will him not to say what I think is coming.
