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It wasn’t just that she wanted to kiss him again. She wanted him back in her life for good. She missed him already, and he was standing right here.
“Okay, everybody,” Pastor Murray called out. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
The reason caroling had always worked so well in this town was that the church was only about two city blocks away from the Misty Lakes subdivision. That was where Charity lived now, but at one time, it had been reserved for the wealthiest people in town. Back then, though, there had been far fewer houses beyond that entrance.
“This is where you live, right?” Nic asked as they stepped to the end of the line.
Trevor, Lucky, and Jordan were directly behind Pastor Murphy and his wife, not having waited around for the two of them. She wondered if they assumed she wanted to be alone with Nic.
“Misty Lakes has changed a lot since you lived here,” Charity said. “There weren’t nearly as many houses back then.”
Nic stared up ahead. Off in the distance, they could see the hill where the biggest houses were. Those houses had a good view of the mountains. But Charity and almost everyone she knew lived on this side of the hill, with no view whatsoever.
“It’s a nice place to live,” she said. “All these sidewalks. I take my dog for walks all the time.”
“I remember as kids, it felt like we walked forever just to get from one house to the next,” he said. “But everyone would answer their door.”
“Yeah, that’s changed.” She took a deep breath and let it out, suddenly aware that she’d been twisting the book around in her hands. It would get all bent if she kept it up. She stilled her hands and focused on holding it a little more casually. “We get a lot of unanswered door knocks, but enough people know we’re coming and we know the houses where church members live. We always make sure we hit those before we’re finished.”
“Just how long are we doing this?” He was scanning the rows of houses in front of them. It did look daunting.
“Same as when we were kids.” Charity glanced over at him. “A couple of hours.”
“Did we do this for a couple of hours when we were kids?”
“Sure did.” She smiled. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“When you’re a kid, I guess it does.”
The line in front of them had come to a stop, so they did too. Everyone was waiting to cross the main strip—a challenge, considering the speed limit through this area was fifty. But it was a Monday night in Misty Mountain, and traffic was light.
They had to cross in groups, with those who’d already made it to the other side waiting for the rest to join them. Charity and Nic ended up with Mrs. Apple and her two friends, who were a lot braver than they should have been.
Nic reached out and put a hand on Charity’s back to stop her from rushing after them. Not that she would have, anyway, but she liked the protective move. And shereallyliked the feel of his hand on her back.
“Let’s go,” he said after looking both ways again.
He reached out and grabbed her hand as they rushed across the street. They were holding hands. Yes, it was functional. There was nothing romantic intended by it. But it felt good anyway. It felt right. Just like their kisses. Just like spending time with him in general. It all felt…
Right.
She couldn’t say which of them released the grip first. All she knew was they were soon on the other side of the street, not holding hands and looking over toward the rest of their group. By then, the last of that group was already passing the sign for the entrance to the neighborhood.
“Don’t wait for us or anything,” Nic said.
But Charity didn’t mind. As long as she had Nic next to her, she was fine wandering into her own neighborhood alone.
“I didn’t realize the first houses were so close to the entrance,” he said.
“Oh yeah, you’ve probably driven past this entrance on your visits to town.”
They walked in silence for a half minute or so before he spoke again. “Not very often. I guess you could say I kind of avoided running around Misty Mountain when I visited.”
“Until this year,” she said.
“Until this year. I don’t know what made me decide to go to the tree lighting.”
“Your parents don’t usually go, I guess,” she said.
