These are just a few really good reminders of why I don’t want to see them, season being merry or not.
17
IVY
DECEMBER 20
The moment I push open the door of Neon Dagger, a local bar and restaurant favorite, my running thoughts quiet down. It’s been way too long since I’ve been here, but the place smells the same: whiskey-soaked citrus from the signature cocktail and chili popcorn they serve with drinks. It’s nostalgia laced with the ache of how much has changed since we spent every Friday here the year we turned twenty-one.
The neon pink dagger logo above the entrance flickers behind me, casting light over the classic black-and-white checkerboard floor and dark walls covered in art. It reflects in sticky spots where patrons have spilled their drinks and shines off the rhinestone boots of a nearby customer.
“Ives!” A familiar voice shouts.
Rio is halfway out of a booth, arms thrown wide in an unspoken invitation. My friend’s casual shirt hangs open over a white top with a plunging neckline, his chest tattoo peeking out. I weave through the crowd, dodging a girl in a leathercorset and a guy wearing antlers, before stepping into his solid hug.
Relief rushes through me so suddenly my knees nearly give. I breathe him in, letting my armor slip. When we pull apart, his gaze drags down my Joy Division band tee, skinny jeans, and well-worn leather boots. “Hell yeah,” he observes with a smirk. “Still bringing the rock ‘n’ roll with you I see.”
In the booth, Amber and Nevaeh are curled up on the velvet bench, identical grins lighting up their faces. Ezra lounges opposite them, his black curls tucked under a beanie, a pint of Guinness in hand.
“It’s so good to see you all,” I say, sliding in beside the couple. “I know I say this every time, but it’s beentoo long.”
“We were starting to think you ditched us.” Nevaeh nudges my shoulder.
“The shift ran late, and I needed a shower. You would’ve hated me if I arrived without freshening up first.”
“Depends,” Ezra teases. “If you smelled bad enough, we could’ve just blamed Rio for it.”
“Hey!” Rio throws his hands up in mock offense. “I showered before coming out, thank you very much. I’m even wearing expensive cologne.”
Amber laughs. “That explains why half the bar smells like bergamot.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with a dramatic bow.
I shake my head, grinning. The tension drains from me, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself be. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed being with my friends. For a sweet moment, nothing outside this place exists. The hospital, racing, theexhaustion—it all fades under the warmth of familiar voices. The comfort of old friendships wraps around me like a worn-in leather jacket, frayed at the edges but reliable as ever.
Ezra lifts his pint toward me. “So, Ivy, how’s life in the glamorous world of double shifts and brain injuries?”
“So damn exhausting,” I reply with honesty. “But hey, at least I’ll have a longer break coming soon.”
Amber, always the quickest to pounce, narrows her eyes and twirls a strand of her fiery hair around her finger. “I can’t believe you’ve kept the news from us. Not a single word.”
“There’s nothing to share,” I protest instantly, not even considering what she means.
“Are you sure? Because we saw the list. The one with the names of who’s going to the Ice Cross World Circuit 2026. How did you not tell us?”
“Oh, that!” Heat floods my face. For a split second, I braced for her to bring up Teddy. Relief and embarrassment collide in my chest. “I thought I’d sent the group chat a message. Sorry. It still doesn’t feel real.”
“You worked harder than anyone I know to get there,” Nevaeh comments.
“Stop, you’re making me blush,” I tell her.
“But we’re so proud of you, babe. Get used to it.”
“So damn proud,” Rio echoes, raising his glass. “Our very own speed demon is about to show the world how it’s done.”
Amber’s eyes sparkle. “Let’s get you a drink so we can toast properly. This needs to be celebrated. Our girl’s going onto the Circuit!”
The whole booth erupts at once—Nevaeh claps her hands, Ezra lets out a whistle that makes the table behind us glance over, and Rio drums a victory beat against the sticky tabletop. Amber throws her head back and gives a triumphant “woo!” loud enough to compete with the bar’s playlist. Even a stranger at the next booth lifts their beer in celebration, caught up in the infectious noise.
