Simon turned toward the street, his coat collar high against the cold. He paused beside the Christmas tree, the streetlights flickering against his glasses. He looked up at it for a long moment, longer than Noah expected. The expression on his face—bare, unguarded—made Noah’s chest ache without knowing why.
Then Simon walked into the snow alone, a solitary figure swallowed by twilight and falling flakes.
Noah watched him go, a strange heaviness settling in his chest.
He didn’t know what Simon’s story was—maybe no one in Mapleford did—but he knew one thing with unsettling clarity.
Simon Hale was carrying something, and he’d been carrying it alone for a long time.
Chapter Ten
By the timeEli made it back to Aileen’s kitchen, his muscles had filed a formal complaint. He hadn’t thought it had been all that bad an experience—until he stopped.
“Let me guess,” she said as he did his best not to limp. “Ladders?”
“Tree,” he groaned. “Lampposts. And emotional trauma.”
“Aha. The Carter Combination Special.”
He grabbed the ibuprofen from the cupboard. “Remind me again why I signed up for this?”
“Because you love me. And because Noah asked,” she added, too casually.
Eli pretended not to hear that part. “If I die, make sure they put ‘killed by festive spirit’ on my tombstone.”
“Done.” She pointed to the stove. “There’s soup if you want some.”
Soup sounded really good. Eli helped himself to a bowl.
“At least you made it through the day with no broken limbs.”
Eli frowned. “I thought he was kidding about how decorating the tree was a lethal activity.”
“He said you did well.”
Eli stared at her. “And when exactly did he tell you that?”
Aileen flushed. “When he called. About five minutes ago.”
Eli froze with the spoon halfway to his lips. “Why did he call? Just to let you know I was coming home in one piece?”
“He said he needs help building some of the festival stuff. Props and such. He asked if you’d be willing to swing by his workshop tonight.”
“Tonight?” Eli echoed.I only just said goodnight to him, and he never said a word.
She shrugged, and to Eli’s mind the motion was way too innocent. “He said it’s the only time he has free. Something-something schedule, something-something volunteers.” She waved a hand. “I told him you’d go.”
He blinked. “You what?”
“You heard me,” she said with a shrug. “You’re free, he’s hot, and you like wood.”
Eli gaped at her. “Wow. You really went there.”
“I meant lumber and you know it,” she said, unrepentant. “You can spot his workshop. It’s two blocks over, with Carter Custom Builds on the door. He said any time after seven.”
It was six-thirty.
Eli looked down at his hoodie and jeans. “I’m covered in pine needles and tree detritus.”
