Page 18 of Daddy's Little Christmas

That was dangerous.

That was… interesting.

Chapter 4

Rudy

By the time I zipped my coat and pulled my beanie down over my ears, the sky had already deepened into that early winter blue that made everything feel a little unreal. Like the world was holding its breath.

I stood in front of the mirror longer than necessary, tugging the hem of my sweater down over my hips. It was too big. Intentionally so. Soft, stretched out at the cuffs, worn thin at the elbows. It made me feel… contained. Like I could tuck myself inside it if I needed to.

Two people had told me about the tree lighting now. Mae, with her gentle certainty. Rosa, with that knowing look like she already understood the argument happening in my head.

You came here to experience the town, I reminded myself.

Not to hide.

So I went.

Main Street was already glowing when I arrived. Strings of lights looped from lamppost to lamppost, the bulbs warm and golden against the snow. Someone had dragged out old speakers, and carols drifted through the air—not polished or professional, but familiar. A little off-key. Human.

I hovered near the edge of the square at first, hands shoved deep into my pockets, boots planted like I might need to bolt. People gathered in loose clusters—families, couples, friends leaning into each other against the cold. There was laughter, the thunk of paper cups, the low hum of voices overlapping.

Not bad, I told myself.

I spotted Rosa near the café cart she’d clearly commandeered, ladling something steaming into cups like she’d been born doing it. When she saw me, her face lit up.

“You made it,” she called, lifting her chin in greeting.

“I did,” I said, surprised to realize it was true.

She pressed a cup into my hands, steam curling up into the cold air.

“Cider,” she said. “You look like you could use something warm.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I wrapped my fingers around the paper cup and took a cautious sip. Sweet. Spiced. Heat spreading through my chest in a way that felt grounding instead of overwhelming.

“Thanks,” I said.

She gave me a look that saidyou’re welcome, and also I see you, then turned back to her cart as another local sidled up.

I lingered near the edge of the square, cider warming my palms, watching.

Kids darted through the snowbanks, shrieking with laughter. An older couple stood shoulder to shoulder, sharing a knit blanket like it was second nature.

It was… nice.

Unexpectedly so.

The tree loomed at the center of it all, tall and heavy with snow, lights still dark. People kept glancing toward it, anticipation buzzing under the surface like static.

I realized I was smiling.

That surprised me.

For a few minutes, I let myself just stand there. Let the sound wash over me instead of fighting it. Let the warmth of the cider and the cold air coexist.