When he kisses me, it’s steady and sure, the kind that means tomorrow is real, that the bad nights can stay buried under all the snow.
Inside, Frost shouts for another toast.Honey curses about the pie.Someone sings off-key.
None of it feels like noise.It feels like home.I look up at the sky, flakes spinning slow.
“You think we earned this?”
Humbug grins, wicked and boyish.“Earned?Hell no.Stole it fair and square.”
I laugh so hard the baby stirs and blinks up at us.Humbug looks down, his whole face melting.
“Welcome to Evervale, little man,” he murmurs.“Where Christmas never dies, and your mama sleighed the motorcycle man.”
Then he looks at me, eyes full of forever.And standing there under the falling snow, wrapped in the arms of a man who burned and rebuilt himself for love…
I finally believe him.
Chapter 25
One Year Later
Carol
The sign still smells like fresh paint when Humbug hangs it over the door.
PEPPERMINT & SIN BAKERY.
He swears he didn’t name it that.Says Sugar came up with it after one too many bourbon lattes, but I know the truth.It’s him.The man who used to curse Christmas now owns half a bakery calledPeppermint & Sin.
“Straight,” I say, squinting at the lettering.
“It’s straight.”
“It’s crooked.”
He smirks.“So am I, Peppermint.”
Jack Jr.giggles from his stroller, smearing frosting on his cheeks like war paint.The kid’s got his father’s smirk, my eyes, and more attitude than both of us combined.
Evervale looks different now.Humbug and Frost turned the old mechanic’s lot next door into a custom shop calledChrome & Coal.The bakery sits right beside it, windows trimmed in candy-cane red and warm light spilling onto the street.You can smell a mix of peppermint and motor oil from a mile away.
Inside, Sugar’s behind the counter, bossing my new hire around while pretending not to.She still calls meCarolerlike old times.
“You know this place’ll be slammed by noon,” she says.“Word’s out that you’re selling gingerbread shaped like dingdongs.”
I grin.“Limited edition.”
Humbug groans.
“If Sno-Globes taught me anything, folks that come here to celebrate Christmas have adult money and aren’t only looking for wholesome fun.
Humbug sighs.“You’re right.It’s a great idea, Peppermint.”
Jack Jr.squeals, reaching for a cookie.Humbug scoops him up, rumbles, “That one’s for Frost.”
“Frost’ll have a fit.Won’t eat that dick shaped cookie,” Sugar says.“But I will.”Making a show of it, she bites off the head.“Dicklicious,” she says, chewing.
Humbug chuckles.“Won’t have a son of mine eating one either.”He gives Jack Jr.a reindeer shaped biscuit instead.
