Page 20 of Daddy's Little Christmas

“Two!”

I looked for space. For an exit.

“One!”

The lights blazed on all at once.

The crowd erupted.

Cheering. Clapping. Movement surging forward.

And that was when it tipped.

The sound hit first—too loud, too sudden. A wall of noise that didn’t just surround me but pressedintome, like it was trying to take up space inside my chest. The lights blurred into streaks of gold and white as people surged forward, boots crunching, shoulders brushing, bodies closing ranks.

I tried to breathe.

Air felt thin. Slippery.

Someone bumped my elbow hard enough that cider sloshed over the rim of the cup, splashing my wrist. The heat startled me, sharp and immediate, and my hand jerked reflexively. The cup tipped. A few drops hit the snow.

Too much.

My heart was racing now, fast and uneven, like it couldn’t quite remember what rhythm it was supposed to keep. My thoughts scattered—no clear line out, no quiet place to land. Just sound and light and bodies and the sudden, terrifying sense that I’d misjudged myself.

That I’d asked too much.

“Hey—sorry,” someone said as they squeezed past, not really waiting for my response.

My shoulders curled inward without me telling them to. My chin dipped. I tugged my sweater sleeves farther down, fabric twisting tight around my fingers like I could anchor myself there.

Too loud. Too close. Too—

My breath hitched.

I turned, trying to find the edge of the square again, but the crowd had shifted. Closed the gaps. Everywhere I looked was another wall of coats and hats and movement.

The noise pressed harder.

“Okay,” I whispered to no one. “Okay, okay—”

The word didn’t help.

My breaths started coming short, shallow, each one stacking on the last without fully letting go. My chest felt locked, like it wouldn’t expand all the way no matter how much I told it to.

That was when I felt it.

Not a hand grabbing me, or someone crowding closer.

A presence.

Solid. Grounded.

It settled behind me like an anchor dropping—close enough that I could feel warmth through layers of wool and winter coats. A careful distance, but unmistakably there.

Then a voice, low and steady, near my ear.

“Easy.”