“You. Me. The town. Your… history.”
Noah’s jaw flexed. “My history can mind its own business.”
“That’s not how history works.”
Noah’s smile thinned, but it didn’t vanish. “When my ex left, people watched. They had opinions. They whispered ‘poor Noah’ as if I wasn’t standing there. I hated it.” His fingers tightened slightly on the wheel. “But this? This I choose.” He glanced at Eli, his eyes warm. “And I choose you.”
Eli’s chest went hot and tight at the same time.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked quietly.
“I am. But we don’t have to put on a show. You don’t owe anyoneanything. If anyone asks anything rude, I’ll tell them to go argue with the garlands.”
Eli huffed a laugh. “How diplomatic.”
“I can be professional when it’s required,” Noah said. “Now drink your emergency cocoa.”
“What emergency?—”
A paper cup appeared in front of his face. “I bribed your sister.”
“Traitor,” Eli muttered, taking it. The first sip was pure Aileen, thick, rich, a little too sweet, the way Eli liked it. He let the warmth slide down his throat, hoping for it to settle his stomach.
Noah glanced at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Eli said. “I’m not used to being seen, that’s all.”
“You’ve been seen before,” Noah murmured. “Just not like this.”
They pulled into the square. It wasn’t fully dark yet, but the square gleamed. Stalls lined the edges, their roofs frosted with snow, strings of warm lights zigzagging between them. The big spruce towered overhead, its lights dark. Kids ran in packs, leaving trails of footprints. The air smelled like popcorn, hot cocoa, and cold.
Someone waved at him, then someone else did the same. Eli realized his name was being said here and there.
“Oh, that’s Aileen’s brother.”
“Eli, from Boston.”
“The one helping Noah with the lights.”
He walked closer to Noah without thinking.
Noah seemed to notice because his hand brushed the back of Eli’s, then stayed there, fingers loosely hooked.
“Okay, team,” Noah called out, rallying the volunteers. “We’ve got thirty minutes until official kickoff, and I’d like to avoid live electrocution. Positions!”
Teen volunteers hauled last-minute crates. Someone shouted about checking the generators. Gloria from the Garland Task Force inspected the mistletoe archway with an intensity that would make an architect sweat.
Eli wove through the crowd with Noah, checking connections, adjusting spotlights, making last-minute tweaks to the “Winter Market” stall they’d finished painting. Noah checked every power cable.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Noah said. “Just want it right.”
“It is.” Eli gazed at the square. “It looks beautiful.”
“You helped.”
“I only did what you told me.” Eli stared at the lanterns. “So much work goes into this.” The first wave of people walked along Main Street, comprising families, couples, and groups of teenagers pretending to be too cool for cocoa but lining up to grab some all the same. Above their heads, thousands of white lights moved gently in the breeze.
