Page 61 of Holiday Crush
My friends and I had run wild down Main Street, lobbing icy grenades at each other and laughing our asses off while the girl I liked giggled at our hijinks. But I also remembered, looking up from behind a snowdrift and seeing the emo kid from my math class watching the action with an aloof expression. I might have waved but I hadn’t invited him to join us because…A, we hung out with different crowds and that sort of shit seemed significant at sixteen, and B, I wasn’t sure he’d even liked me.
By eighteen, Main Street was too small, the snow was annoying as fuck, and I’d wanted out of this town more than I wanted my next breath. My wish came true and that should have been the end of my story, but life was never quite so tidy ’cause here I was again.
I realized now that the things I’d wanted at eighteen were lessons along the road leading me back home. Leading me to Ivan.
The quiet kid dressed in black had become the sun and I was greedy for his warmth. I needed his light, his homespun wisdom, his beautiful face, and his…joy.
I’d left Elmwood to chase a dream into the ground, but maybe the dream had guided me home. These streets didn’t have to be bigger, the people didn’t have to be cooler, and the snow…God, the snow was so fucking beautiful.
I skidded to a halt on the sidewalk in front of the bakery and tapped my hand against the large H on the window like a hockey stick tapping the ice. The lights were on next door and I could make out a shadowy figure moving around the shop.
“Wish me luck,” I whispered to long-gone Hendersons or the universe or whoever the fuck was in charge of hopeless cases who really wanted one more chance. Just one more shot to get things right.
I took a deep breath as I stepped out of the shadows, and pushed open the door to Rise and Grind.
“Oh, shoot, I’m sorry, but we’re closed. I forgot to lock the—” Ivan looked up from the ribbon he’d been tying and smiled. “Hi. It’s you.”
“Yeah, it’s me.” I pulled my beanie off and stuffed it in my pocket, drinking in the sight of him. He wore black as usual with his green apron tied at his waist. His cheeks were rosy and the dark curls sprouting wildly from the sides of the Santa hat on his head gave him an elfish look that shouldn’t have been sexy, yet somehow was. “I’ve been calling and texting you. I was worried. Are you okay?”
He nodded slowly and quirked his lips. “Yeah, it’s been a rough day, but it’s also Christmas Eve, and we should be celebrating. I’m supposed to be at my parents’ house in an hour, but…I have something for you.”
“For me?”
Ivan slid a medium-sized box across the bistro table and nodded. “Open it.”
I had bigger things on my mind than holiday gifts, but…okay. I untied the ribbon, ripped off the reindeer paper with zero finesse. “Am I doing this wrong?” I teased, chuckling at Ivan’s wince.
“No, enthusiasm is good. Messy, but good.”
I grinned as I opened the lid and sifted through a layer of tissue paper for… “What is all this?”
“Things from home.”
I pulled out a Bingo game, a box of cinnamon tea, one of the snowflakes we’d hung from the ceiling, a miniature black tree…not Christmas-tree shaped but the sentiment was obvious—and there were photos.
Me with the Mighty Mites during a lesson, me with the Bantam group on our sledding field trip in Fallbrook, me practicing with Vinnie, Riley, and the juniors, and a selfie of Ivan and me taken the day he’d dragged me to Pinecrest to go Christmas shopping for something nice for my parents. I’d rolled my eyes and struck a grumpy pose while Ivan beamed beside me, his arm wrapped casually around my shoulder.
I shuffled through the photos and yeah, I was touched for sure, but I didn’t understand. This gift was oddly specific and yet…not.
“Thank you, but…what am I missing?”
“Nothing. It’s silly.” He lowered his face to hide his pink cheeks. “I actually bought you that blue scarf you liked when we went shopping and—oops, just pretend you’re surprised when you open it. This box is an impetuous floopsie-daisy.”
I squinted, wrinkling my nose in confusion. “A what?”
“You know, a last minute throw-together. A ‘don’t forget us when you’re famous and rubbing elbows with celebrities in LA next year’ kind of gift,” he explained in a rush.
“Ah, okay. Well, thanks, but um, I’m not going to LA next year.” I set the photos on the table. “Or ever. Unless you want to go see the Kings with me or go to Disneyland.”
Ivan frowned. “What happened? You texted that it went well and—”
“It did,” I laced our fingers and drew him closer. “He had two contracts ready for me to sign, and he wanted it done before he finished his third Diet Coke.”
“Did you ask for more time?”
“No, I don’t need more time. I know where I belong and I know where I want to be. And it’s here.”
“Here? Why?” Ivan opened and closed his mouth. “You can’t do that, Court. This is what you wanted. This is—”