And that was the point.
I didn’t shrink, didn’t glance down or away.I met their eyes, one by one, with the same smile I’d given him, holding onto him like he wasn’t a ghost, wasn’t a monster, wasn’t anything but a man worth standing beside.
Let them whisper.Let them stare.I wasn’t afraid.
I was with him.
The square gave way to quieter streets, and I tugged Charlie gently toward them.“Come on,” I said, my voice light, as though we were simply two neighbors out for a stroll and not the subject of half the town’s gossip.
The neighborhoods glittered like storybooks.Every house seemed to compete for the most cheerful display—icicle lights dripping from eaves, glowing reindeer frozen mid-leap across snowy lawns, inflatable snowmen swaying in the wind.One yard had gone all-out with a giant Santa waving from the roof, his sleigh outlined in twinkling red bulbs.Another had a row of candy-cane stakes marching proudly down the walkway, their stripes gleaming against the frost.
Charlie’s arm was still tense under mine, but as we passed a nativity scene glowing soft gold, I felt some of the stiffness ease.He didn’t comment, of course, but his gaze lingered on the wooden manger, and I caught the way his jaw unclenched.
I filled the silence with chatter, pointing out my favorites—the house with mismatched lights, strung in chaotic zigzags, which I loved more than the perfect ones because it looked like joy instead of precision.The corner lot with an entire army of penguins in scarves.A porch lined with flickering lanterns that looked so inviting I half-expected the door to swing open and someone to hand us cider.
At one house, a child’s mittened hand pressed against the window, eyes wide at the sight of the lights outside.I waved instinctively, and the little one beamed before darting away.Charlie shifted beside me, like the small moment was harder to endure than any battlefield.
We kept walking, the air crisp and full of pine and chimney smoke.My boots crunched through patches of snow while his stride matched mine, steady now, no longer forced.At the end of one cul-de-sac, we stopped in front of a towering fir wrapped in strands of colored bulbs.The lights blinked slowly, shifting from red to green to blue.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, hugging his arm tighter.
Charlie grunted, low in his chest.But when I glanced up at him, the firelight glow of the bulbs reflected in his eyes, softening the hard edges I’d grown so used to.
I smiled.Because this—walking under garlands and blinking lights, hearing the faint echo of carols through frosted windows—felt like Christmas.Not the kind in store windows or on postcards.The kind that mattered: simple, imperfect, shared.
And for the first time since stepping back into Holly Ridge, I let myself believe this town might be big enough for both of us—scars, whispers, and all.
Chapter16
Charlie
Belle slipped her hand into mine as though it was the most natural thing in the world.No hesitation, no testing the waters—just warmth sliding between my fingers, her grip firm, her arm tugging me gently in the direction of home.
I didn’t fight it.Couldn’t.
The glow of the town trailed behind us, fading with every step.Laughter softened into echoes, the hum of carols dissolved into the night air, and soon all that was left was the steady crunch of snow beneath our boots.The cold should’ve sunk into my bones, but it didn’t.Not with her hand locked in mine.
Light-headed.That was what I felt.Dizzy in a way no whiskey or fever ever managed.This warmth, this acceptance—her walking at my side without shame—it was everything I’d buried so deep I stopped believing it existed.
I glanced down at her.She tilted her head back, eyes finding mine, and there it was again: that look.The one that gutted me every damn time.Not pity.Not curiosity.Just… belief.Like she saw me—scars, shadows, sins—and still thought I was worth looking at.
And the thought hit me, sharp and violent:I’d burn the world to keep that look.
It scared me, how fast the words formed.How true they felt.I’d built my life on walls and silence, on making sure I could lose no more than I already had.But this girl had me imagining fire and ruin, all to protect the one thing I’d never thought I’d be offered again—hope.
The road stretched quiet and silver under the moonlight, our house waiting at the end like some sentinel of old mistakes.But with her beside me, it felt less like a prison and more like a place that might, just might, hold light again.
“Cold?”I muttered, the word rough as gravel.
She squeezed my hand, smiling up at me through the frost in her lashes.“Not with you.”
The simple answer carved through me.I looked away too quickly, jaw tight, terrified she could see how badly she’d unmade me.
We walked the rest of the way in silence, but it wasn’t heavy.It was the kind of quiet that settled warm, that made the crunch of snow and the puff of our breaths feel like music.
At my porch, I hesitated with the key in hand, staring at the door like it might shut us out on its own.She leaned closer, shoulder brushing mine, patient, waiting for me to decide if I’d let her in again—not just to the house, but to everything I’d spent years guarding.
I turned the key.The lock clicked open, and I knew it wasn’t just the door giving way.
