Noah wasn’t about to push.
Danny dusted snow from his sleeve, and gave Noah that small, crooked half-smile again, the one that hinted at a man who used to smile more easily.
“Thanks for the welcome,” he said.
“Anytime,” Noah replied. “If you ever want company, we’re all creatures of habit around here. Aileen’s bakery is basically the town’s living room, and if that’s closed, there’s the Mapleford Diner.” He smiled. “I can recommend the blueberry pancakes.”
Danny’s eyebrows rose. “Good to know.”
“And if you need help unpacking at the station,” Noah added, “I’m around.”
Danny’s smile deepened a fraction, still cautious, but slightly more real.
“Careful. I might take you up on that.”
“I mean it,” Noah said.
“I know.”
It felt as though something unspoken had passed between them, the recognition of someone who understood what it meant to start again.
“See you around, Carter.” Danny headed toward the back door.
“See you, Chief.”
Danny lifted a gloved hand in a brief salute before disappearing through the door, snow blowing in behind him.
Noah watched the flakes swirl for a moment before closing it and turning back to the volunteers. He didn’t know the new Fire Chief’s story, but he knew instinctively that the man had one.
Maybe Mapleford might be exactly the place where he figures out what comes next.
Eli stood in the town square with a cup of Aileen’s cocoa warming his hands, staring up at the massive spruce tree that dominated the space. Snow dusted its branches. A flock of volunteers buzzed around the square like overcaffeinated elves. Someone was already arguing about ornament symmetry.
It was official: Mapleford had plunged full speed ahead into its festive madness phase, and the community-center chaos had spilled into the open air.
Noah stood at the base of the tree, a clipboard tucked under his arm, his beanie at an angle, and snowflakes caught in his eyelashes.
Eli felt that now-familiar jolt in his chest.
He still didn’t know what to do about it.
He also didn’t know what to do with the fact that the man currently consulting a sketch of the lighting plan like a general planning battle formations was the same boy he’d drawn obsessively at fifteen.
Don’t stare. You’re a functioning adult. You can stand in a town square without swooning over someone.
He stared anyway.
Noah spotted him, smiled, and waved him over.
Eli felt it again, that little spark of something real and warm, unwanted and wanted all at once.
“Eli!” Noah called. “Perfect timing. You ready for Ladder Day?”
“I don’t like that sentence. Nothing good starts with ‘ladder.’ Or ends with it.”
Noah grinned. “Noted. But we’ve got to get lights on the Tree of Doom.”
He blinked. “Tree of Doom?”
