Page 67 of Cold Mercy

SOPHIA

Time moves strangely these days. I blink, and suddenly it’s December. The part of the year I used to love more than anything. I was the kind of person who decorated a Christmas tree the day after Halloween, who lit cinnamon candles in every room, who played carols in the car long before it was socially acceptable.

But after Noah died, all of that felt obscene, so I didn't decorate, cook, or go anywhere.

I treated Christmas like another funeral I had to sit through alone. This year… I’m not celebrating, not really. But I promised myself I’d at least make dinner for one, sit at my table, and try to pull something good out of this day.

Elizabeth and James invited me, but they’re having their parents over, and I would rather not sit through the avalanche of questions older people can’t help asking. The ‘How are you holding up? Have you moved on? You’re young, sweetheart, life goes on…’ Yeah, I’m not doing that.

And Thomas… I’m sure he’s spending Christmas with his brother, or whoever counts as family for him. What would I even say? ‘Hey, we haven’t seen each other since the club meltdown, we only exchange stupid texts. Want to spend Christmas Eve together?’

No. That would be insane, even for me. Still, thanks to him, mornings have become… something I look forward to. Every day, right after sunrise, Ms. Gonzalez opens my bedroom door like she’s delivering sacred news, and there’s always a small folded note waiting for me. She knocks and enters, same as always, but today she's wearing a grin that makes me suspicious.

“Another package for you,” she says, placing it on my bed before practically fleeing with a blush, as if the thing might explode in her hands.

I sit up, still half-asleep, and pull the box closer. I open the note I find sitting on top, recognizing Thomas's handwriting instantly.

Today’s two facts about me:

1) I’ve broken my right arm four times in my life.

(So forgive me for not flinching when you threaten to break it again.)

2) I love your green eyes.

(Yes, that’s a fact. And no, you don’t get to argue with it.)

The bracelet is nothing serious, nothing binding. Just a small gesture for… a friend, so don’t overthink it.

Merry Christmas, Princess.

Thomas

I reach into the box and find a delicate silver bracelet, light and simple, with a tiny plaque attached. When I lift it toward the window, I can see the engraving perfectly.

‘Still here.’

A tear escapes before I can stop it, and I'm not sure whether it's from the surprise or the simple, staggering fact that he didn't have to do this. The wedding is still months away, my part of the case is over, and he has absolutely no obligation to stay in my life, and yet… he keeps choosing to show up.

Unable to stop staring at the bracelet, I immediately slip it onto my wrist, a part of me afraid it might vanish if I look away for even a second.

And the line about my eyes? Damn, he's good.

My fingers are shaking as I grab my phone. I type a few words, then immediately delete them. I try again, only to erase the message a second time, caught in a loop of wanting to say something and being terrified of saying too much.

I chew on my finger like some unhinged teenager. Get it together, Sophia. He told you himself. It's nothing serious, just a nice gesture, don’t overthink it.

Finally, I take a breath and hit send.

‘Thank you for the gift. I have something for you as well. I’ll give it to Elizabeth so you can pick it up next time you see James.’

And about the broken bones…if you ever want number five, I can absolutely make that happen. Merry Christmas, Thomas.”

Of course, I also bought him something. I love giving gifts, even when my brain tries to talk me out of it. I kept telling myself that if I chickened out at the last minute, I’d simply never hand it to him. Just a friendly gesture, nothing more. I walk downstairs and find Mrs. Gonzalez waiting for me, smiling wider than usual. Somehow, I’m smiling even wider than she is.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask. “Go home, please. The box on the porch has gifts for your grandbabies.”

“I stayed because I wanted to hug you today.” She hugs me, steps back, and then her face turns serious.