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Gabe

By the way, I can’t stop thinking about you.

I grin and tap out a response.

Beth

Same here.

“Bethy, a little help.” Jack waves me over.

Beth

Duty calls. Talk to you later, though?

Gabe

Yes, please.

I slide my phone into my purse and work to rearrange my facial expression to not look like a besotted teenager. The football guys are trickling into the wrestling room to help us carry stuff downstairs to the gym where the market is set to take place, and there are enough hormones in the mix without my new feelings for Gabe added in.

“You look smitten,” Ivy says.

“What? Why?” I absently tuck my hair behind my ear.

“You just do. A smitten Christmas kitten. You have ‘I’m falling for Gabe McKenzie’ written all over your face.”

My cheeks burn, and I desperately grasp for some way to deflect this attention, but I come up blank.

“Just go with it, Bethy. It’s a good thing.” Ivy gives my arm a squeeze.

I only hope she’s right.

From across the room, Jack motions for us to follow him. We trail him into the gym, which is being transformed into a winter wonderland. Carols are being piped through the sound system, and volunteers are assembling tables, booths, and backdrops. Everyone is rosy-cheeked and smiling. The scent of cinnamon is in the air—a welcome relief from the tangy scent of sweat from upstairs.

This is my favorite thing about the holiday season: the way it brings people together and serves as a conduit for joy and hopeful anticipation.

Ivy, Jack, and I work to get the materials set out on the tables and offer instruction to the players and their parents. We’ve crafted a fun photo backdrop, and I’ve printed off several templates and instruction sheets for different kinds of ornaments the players can make with the kids once they have their Polaroid photo printed out. But mostly we give them free rein to have fun with their creations. We’ve almost got everything organized when I catch Jack looking pensive.

“What’s wrong?” I move to stand next to him, letting my gaze roam around, looking for the source of his anxiety. I can sense it, so I know it’s there.

“Nothing. It’s fine. It’s just—” He waves his arm around. “Look at all these people. All this work. I hope people show up for the kids, you know?”

“They will.” Ivy comes to stand on the other side of Jack.

He frowns. “Numbers have been way down the past couple of years.”

My heart squeezes as I take in the profile of my brother. He loves his high school kids, and he wants to see their efforts rewarded. Heck, so do I.

He sighs. “What if only a handful of people show tomorrow?”

I mull this over. Ivy bites her lip, and the three of us are quiet.

“I’ve got an idea,” I blurt after a minute, a loose plan forming in my head.

Christmas Dash Rhyme #5

Who doesn’t love the pastime