Phoebe skips ahead of us, boots crunching over a dusting of snow, her breath puffing white as she spins in a circle to take it all in.
“I forgot how sparkly it gets,” she cheers. “The disco balls remind me of Holly Everheart!”
Aiden sends me a quizzical look.
I lean toward him as close as I can and still walk. “You don’t remember being asked for her entire discography on Christmas Eve?”
His answering chuckle rumbles through me. “Knew the name sounded familiar.”
“Can we make a wish at the wishing well?” She turns to face us, her entire face lit up in joy.
My heart squeezes. I wasn’t worried we’d lose this. I was worried about how I fit into this dynamic without feeling like I earned it.
It’s still a concern, but it no longer feels like it’s trying to shoulder its way to the front of the line anymore.
“Sure.” I shrug.
The wishing well sits in the grassy area of the square, set back along a path usually lined with flowers. Phoebe holds a hand out expectantly, waiting for a coin.
I’m glad I grabbed my wallet, but even if I hadn’t, there are several shops that keep a coin bucket handy just for kids who want to make wishes.
“Don’t forget,” I whisper. “You can’t tell anyone your wish. It’s yours, and yours alone.”
“Like a birthday wish,” she responds, solemnly.
“Exactly.”
As she steps forward, Aiden tugs me closer. “This is different.”
“It’s tradition,” I say, with a sigh. “Maybe not for New Year’s, but in general.”
“I’d forgotten. Haven’t been here in ten years. What’s the tradition for New Year's?”
“It’s a little chaotic. Enchanted Hollow doesn’t do one-size-fits-all magic,” I murmur. “The lights go out for a full minute asthe year shifts from old to new. Most of it goes completely dark, but the square keeps the light on for kids. Dimmer.”
His eyes roam over my face. He always tells me I’ve got a certain look when I’m taking in things on the farm, that I see it in a way he’d forgotten how.
But I think that’s true for him, too. There’s always a quiet reverence when he looks at me, like he can’t quite believe I’m here. Or that I’m his.
I always have been—even when I couldn’t admit it.
“I feel like there’s probably some special diatribe about why,” he murmurs.
“I’m a terrible native.” I grin, stepping closer. Our faces are only a couple of breaths away from each other. “I don’t remember theexactsayings, but something about what you find in the dark matters.”
“And the light?”
“That one is about choosing.” My voice goes softer as he leans in. “What you choose in the light matters.”
My entire body sighs when he kisses me. Ever since that afternoon in his office when we found out about the will, I’ve been wound tighter than a watch spring, and in this moment, the tension unspools.
Like whatever was jamming up my nervous system finally released.
I’m not a stranger to how Enchanted Hollow works, nor am I remotely cynical enough to believe that the last two years of my life haven’t been guided by nudges that planted me right where I am.
Not necessarily back here in Enchanted Hollow, though I suppose life is a series of circles, if you think about it.
But back here with Aiden. With Phoebe. Creating the life I quietly wished for more times than I could count, after the very first time this man kissed me.
