“Takes one to know one,” I tell him.
I angle my body toward him, curious. It’s too dark to see details, but I make out the outline of him. Tall, like I expected. Broad shoulders.
“You don’t look like someone who’s here to celebrate,” he says.
“Joke’s on you. I am,” I reply. “Just… quietly.”
“That’s not celebrating,” he says. “That’s standing guard.”
I arch a brow. “And you? Lurking in the dark?”
His chuckle floats between us. “Just making sure everyone has a safe New Year’s.”
Oh.
It’s rare that someone surprises me, but I can’t observe him in the dark. Usually, people have tells. I’m not sure this stranger does.
Something in my chest tightens.
The longer we stand here, the more charged the air grows between us. Interesting. I suppose the dark makes things easier, stripping away performance and leaving only intention.
“You know the tradition?”
“Countdown from ten, scream and shout, and move on?”
He snorts out a laugh. “You’re not from here.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Pretty sure I know everyone around here. And even people who don’t live here know the midnight tradition here.”
I’m pretty sure he’s smirking right now, and while I normally wouldn’t like that, it actually earns another point in his favor.
“Fine.” I shrug out of habit. “You caught me.”
“But you’re here anyway.”
I sigh. “Yes.”
“Why?”
His tone is earnest, not nosy. And for that reason alone, I reward him with honesty.
“Because leaving felt worse than staying.”
He doesn’t need to know this trip was a self-inflicted punishment for jumping to the wrong conclusion about my sister-in-law. The last thing I wanted to do was come here, but I wanted the air cleared before my brother professed his undying love.
I flinch. I’m not trying to come off angry about his happiness.
It’s just that I got it all wrong, and it’s messing with me. And watching them melt into each other, having Phoebe in my life, it’s making me realize exactly what my self-imposed exile from relationships has cost me.
“The lights go off for a few minutes before midnight, but they won’t come back on until the clock hits one minute past midnight,” he says. “Not everywhere — just enough. Enchanted Hollow has a way of letting people find what they’re ready for. It’s nothing grand, just an intention. Some of the older folks like to say, ‘What you find in the dark matters. ’ But also, ‘What you choose in the light matters.’ I suppose it’s two sides of the same coin.”
“Only on New Year’s?” I ask, even though I’m not sure why.
I sort of like the sound of that.
“Mostly. But I suppose it could apply anytime you find something in the dark.” He pauses. “You hold yourself like someone who’s learned what it costs to lose,” he says quietly.
