Chapter one
Clayton
The elf hat sat crooked on my head no matter how many times I adjusted it. The tights itched in all the wrong places, the stripes too pale to look festive—more “washed-out candy cane” than “holiday cheer.” But I tried to smile anyway. It was Christmas. And Christmas was supposed to make people happy.
The little boy in front of me stared like I’d dropped in from another planet. I waved.
He blinked and pointed solemnly at my shoes. “They’re curly.”
I looked down at the ridiculous upturned toes. “They are,” I agreed softly, clicking my heels together like Dorothy. He didn’t laugh, but I didn’t mind. I was often guilty of misreading my audience.
His mother herded him toward Santa with the weary determination of someone whose coffee was wearing off. I stood by, smoothing my tunic and telling myself—again—that I loved Christmas.
And I did. I’d spent twenty years proving it, planning window displays and light shows and charity toy drives as the ChristmasEvents Coordinator for Thomas & Mason’s. I’d lived and breathed twinkling lights and carols. My name had been on the holiday press releases. It had felt like purpose.
Until it hadn’t.
I remember blinking at Earl Thomas Jr. in complete and utter shock.Let go.The words echoed again in my head. Was that what Jason had done as well? Let me go? Discarded me like trash. I’d been given six weeks’ severance pay, and it had gone immediately to repairing Mom's roof. Jason had already thrown me out the previous Thanksgiving.
Just in time for Christmas.
But I’d always thought that no matter how awful my home life was, work was my constant. Hell, I was a godfather to three of my line manager’s kids.
“Hey, new guy,” Pete called, “can you go get the candy canes from the break room? We’re out.”
I stepped back, letting “Peppermint Pete” take over at the front of the line. Pete was eighteen, maybe. Skinny. His tights actually fit. He winked at a pair of teens with frosted coffees and grinned like he’d been born for humiliating himself in public. His grin was so bright it made my teeth ache.
Well, my back molar did ache, but being one of Santa's elves didn’t come with health and dental, so it would have to go on aching for the moment.
I found the box of candy canes shoved under a pile of elf hats and grabbed two fistfuls. The stripes cut into my palms.
I closed my eyes for a second, just to breathe.
Mom would have laughed. She used to say I took things too seriously. “Lighten up, honey. It’s Christmas.” She’d called me her “little elf” when I was a kid. Not so little anymore. I allowed that to be fair to Thomas and Mason, I’d had to take a lot of time off last year. Mom had been battling cancer for over two years,and apart from finally taking her, it had taken all my savings as well.
I handed Pete the candy canes. He flashed another grin and leaned in.
“First day’s the worst,” he confided in a low whisper. “You’ll get used to it.”
I chuckled. But then maybe I needed an eighteen-year-old’s advice on the current job market. I wasn’t doing so well on my own. Apparently, my natural nature never to take all the credit didn't translate well on to my resume.
I stood by the velvet ropes, watching the endless line snake past, and tried to pretend my feet didn’t hurt.
I thought of the house waiting for me. Cold. Silent. Wallpaper peeling off the walls like embarrassing secrets; the draft by the kitchen door whistled its own Christmas carol, and the bathroom window refused to shut properly. But repairs took money I didn’t have. And when the house had been warm with Mom’s laughter and goofiness, you didn’t notice the cracks.
The kids helped, though. Their joy was real and messy and loud. When a little girl tugged on my sleeve to show me her sparkly reindeer sweater, I bent down to admire it properly. When another shyly offered me half a cookie, I accepted with reverence like it was a gift from a queen herself.
By noon, the ache in my back had settled in like an old friend, but I couldn’t stop watching the children’s faces light up. Maybe this wasn’t the career I’d imagined, but it still mattered. Christmas always mattered.
I kept thinking about Jason. My emotional safe space. Years of routines, comfort, rules. Vanished.
Except the further I was away from that relationship, I knew it hadn’t been a good one. I’d settled for what I thought I could get. Because someone needed me and it was a giddy feeling.
Lunch break wasn’t a break. I closed my eyes. Tried not to picture our apartment.Jason’sapartment. I’d paid my share of rent and utilities, even when it got so hard along with Mom’s bills. Then I waslet gofrom him as well.
I was barely upright by seven. Every muscle screamed. Even the arch of my foot had joined the rebellion, throbbing in time with my pulse. The mall crowd had thinned, mostly stragglers now, and I kept glancing at the clock like it might save me. The last fat hand crawled toward closing, and I could already taste the cold air outside, the silence, the ache of my own bed—
“Uncle Felix, look, there’s Santa. We gotta hurry.”
