“Lydia, I’m serious.”
“So am I,” she said, looping her arm through mine again. “Look, you don’t have to know what it is or where it’s going. Just… let yourself enjoy it. You deserve a little joy, Mel.”
Joy. The word felt strange in my mouth.
I looked around one more time at the snowman contest, the twinkle lights, the ridiculousReckless River Chili Throwdownbanner strung across the street, and felt something in me shift.
Maybe Lydia was right. Maybe I didn’t have to figure it all out right now. Maybe it was okay to just… be here.
I smiled faintly.
“Fine,” I said. “But if I get tinsel in my hair again, don’t let Drew get it out.”
Lydia grinned. “Deal.”
We started walking again, our boots crunching against the snow-dusted path that led toward the wreath-making tent. The air smelled like pine and cinnamon and something bright and possible.
For the first time in a long while, I let myself stop overthinking.
Maybe Reckless River wasn’t just a detour. Maybe it was the part of the map I hadn’t known I was missing for the holidays.
Chapter Eight
Drew
Reckless River had outdone itself. The whole town smelled like pine, sugar, and bragging rights. You couldn’t turn a corner without running into someone selling cider, ornaments, or unsolicited cheer.
But none of it compared to the sight of Melanie standing under a string of lights at the wreath-making tent, laughing at something Lydia said.
She was different today.
Softer somehow.
Her shoulders weren’t drawn tight like they usually were, and her laugh came easier. There was color in her cheeks that wasn’t just from the cold. Whatever wall she’d been holding up had a few cracks now, and damn if it didn’t make her even more dangerous.
Callum had wandered off to judge the snowman contest, Lydia was fussing over ribbon colors, and I figured, why nottempt fate? I brushed the snow from my sleeves and headed straight for the wreath table.
“Careful,” I said as I came up behind her. “You’re about to use enough glitter to blind half the town.”
She jumped, then shot me a look over her shoulder. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people holding scissors.”
“Noted.” I grabbed a seat beside her anyway. “Didn’t realize this was a competitive sport.”
“It’s not,” she said, twisting a piece of wire through a bundle of pine. “It’s art.”
“Looks like yard waste,” I said.
“Then you’re obviously uncultured.” She tied the ribbon tighter, refusing to look at me.
“Maybe you should teach me, then,” I said, letting my voice dip just enough to earn her glare. “You always were good at… hands-on instruction.”
Her fingers stilled on the wire. “You’re too much to handle.”
“Pretty sure we’ve established that.”
“Why are you even here?” she asked.
“Community service,” I said. “Court ordered.”
