His heart thudded. “I’mnot?—”
“Youare,” she said. “But that’s okay. You deserve something good. Something new.”
He stared down at his hands.
It felt as if someone had opened a door inside him he wasn’t ready to walk through, butGod, he wanted to.
I want it to be tomorrow already, so I can see Eli’s face in the morning light. I want to hear him say something sarcastic about tangled lights.
What he wanted most was to feel that brush of electricity again.
But do I deserve all that?
Elsie nudged his foot under the table. “Noah Carter.”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens tomorrow, don’t freak out.”
“Define ‘freak out.’”
“Don’t overthink. Don’t self-sabotage. Don’t hide behind work. And for the love of Christmas, donotrun away.”
Noah huffed. “Okay, but that was a lot of instructions. Not sure I can remember them all.”
“Try.” Elsie grinned. “I believe in you.”
Noah tried to laugh it off, to swallow the nerves knotting under his ribs, but the truth—therealtruth—pushed its way up through the noise.
“I really hope he shows up,” he confessed.
Elsie smiled. “I think he will.”
“I hope so,” Noah repeated.
“Why?”
Noah considered, his heart stumbling over the answer.
“Because,” he said finally, “when he looked at me, I felt something I haven’t felt in a long time. And if he shows up tomorrow?—”
“You get to feel it again,” Elsie finished.
He nodded.
She squeezed his hand. “Then he’ll show.”
From your lips to God’s ears.
That evening’s lantern workshop was, predictably, chaos.
Kids shouted for more tissue paper. Someone spilled glitter on the gym floor, and while Elsie looked pissed, she also looked resigned. A six-year-old glued two jars together and proudly declared it “a friendship lantern,” which nearly made Noah cry.
I freakin’lovethis town.He loved what he did. And for the first time in years, he wondered whether he could love something more.
Someone.
He hadn’t let himself want that for a long time, but right then under the warm gym lights, he felt the faint stirring of hope.
