The men were dressed in Santa suits, with the hat and stuffy beards to match. It took them getting closer to the nurse’s station by a few more feet before it hit me.
There was no mistaking those bluest of blue eyes.
Landon.
Which meant the Santa clone by his side had to be—
“Mason and I decided to bring some cheer to the kids,” Landon said once he’d drawn up to me.
A ripple of voices lifted over the carols, quiet at first, then growing as heads popped up from pillows and blankets. Kids who could sit up swung legs over the side of their beds, hands gripping rails or sheets, eyes widening.
Rosemary and I exchanged a glance, neither needing to say a word. This was perfection.
“You look… so stupid,” I said, laughing behind my hand. I could make fun of him and also not dilute the kids’ magic at the same time.
Landon winked, then slipped straight into character. He and Mason swung their bag of gifts off their shoulders and broke into a chorus of “ho, ho, ho”, which had the kids giggling and clapping.
Their excitement stayed within the bounds of their beds and chairs. A small hand shot up to wave, a little squeal escaped a monitor beep, and even those tucked under blankets craned forward to see. Mason and Landon moved from one ward to the next, spreading joy with the same easy confidence they carried everywhere, and the place vibrated with contained wonder.
Landon crouched beside the first bed, coat pooling around his knees. “Well, hello there, little guy. Santa heard you’ve been extra brave this year.”
The little boy blinked, clutching his blanket. “I… I think so.”
“That’s the spirit,” Landon said, sliding a small wrapped box onto the bed. “Open it slow. Santa’s watching.”
The kid tore the paper with deliberate care, then grinned, holding up a tiny toy car. “It’s blue. My favorite color.”
“See?” Landon chuckled in a deep fake Santa voice. “Good behavior earns good toys.”
From across the hall, Mason handed out plush snowmen and reindeer, giving one to a girl in a wheelchair. Landon leaned over, offering her a high five before crouching to tie her coat tighter around her shoulders.
“Can’t have you catching a chill, even if you’re on the nice list,” he said.
I watched him move from bed to bed, handing out toys, adjusting blankets and pillows, and even reading to the ones who shoved their picture books his way.
He knelt beside a little girl whose oxygen tubing had tangled slightly. “We’ve got to keep these cords out of mischief. Santa doesn’t like tangled wires.”
The kids loved it, but the respect in their eyes made me pause. Landon wasn’t performing for me or the staff—he was present, aware, making this wing feel less like a hospital and more like a holiday corner just for them.
He glanced up and caught me staring. His eyes flicked to mine, that familiar mischievous glint in them, and he pointed to his bag of gifts.
“Mind being Santa’s helper? I’ve got a tight schedule and so many toys to go.”
“Sure, can’t say no to Santa, can I?”
I followed the line of beds, noticing the way he adapted to each of them. Softly directing a child with IV poles, kneeling without crowding, laughing with their silly jokes and even making a few himself. Every gesture was small but deliberate, a balance of playfulness and care.
By the time he reached the end of the hall, the kids were buzzing with energy that broke the usual strain of the place. We did our best, of course we did, but there was little that could distract a kid from the fact that they couldn’t go home just yet. This… This was everyone’s Christmas wish come true. A small breath out that we all needed.
Landon straightened, hands on his hips, surveying the wing with pride.
I felt that spark in my chest that always came when he was around and doing something crazy but totally incredible. But this side of him was a new layer. Soft, but impossible to ignore.
Rosemary nudged me in the ribs with her elbow as Landon knelt to hand a plush penguin to a little girl in bed 318.
“Go,” she whispered. “Say thanks. Ask him out. Don’t overthink it.”
I swallowed, clinging to the edge of the counter near the nurses’ station, and waited until Landon stood, adjusting his belt over the Santa coat. His beard had drooped on one side, a few white fibers brushing against the collar of his shirt underneath.
