Page 52 of Run, Run Rudolph (Fairy Godmothers and Other Fiascos #2)

~ Tamara ~

T he snow was falling gently around me and it was cold, nipping at my nostrils with every inhale. The sun was starting to paint the horizon with pale pink streaks.

I must have been gone for hours. I moved my feet, noting I was leaving tracks, the snow making that squeak-crunch sound it did when it was minus thirty. I could see my breath. I patted myself down. I appeared to be alive.

My wish had worked.

I spun in a small circle, on the lookout for Haden.

There were no burned sleigh remains on the driveway, meaning it had either been cleaned up or covered with fresh fallen snow.

I sprinted to the barn, yanking open the door. Familiar smells enveloped me. Dolly snickered a hello, and I murmured to her as I walked further inside, seeing my warm breath come out in clouds.

It was cold. Silent.

I stopped, taking in the building. There was no damaged sleigh. No night vision goggle boxes littering the barn floor. No reindeer. No Santa. No elves. No Christmas tree. I jogged to Rudolph’s stall, swinging my way through its entrance. No reindeer. No melted ice packs.

Shaking, I took a few steps, my boots shifting the straw and dirt at my feet. It was like they’d never been here. My yukaflux cooler stood upright, lid closed. I opened it. It was full.

Everything was back to normal.

I flew to the barn door and looked outside. There were no ruts in the fresh snow from us coming and going last night. I stumbled back inside and fell to my knees in the straw, sniffing away my tears.

I was wearing my winter coat again, and I found my phone, typing out a text to Haden.

Me

Did you get home okay?

I scrunched my eyes closed, my cold fingers cramping as they gripped my phone, waiting for a reply. He had to reply. He kept his phone on him, 24/7, because he was always on call.

Gripping my phone, I stared at the screen, willing a reply from Haden.

“Please, please, please,” I whispered. Please let him remember us.

Bubbles appeared on my screen to show he was typing, and I held my breath, anticipatory tears welling in my eyes.

“Come on, come on.”

Haden’s message popped up.

Haden

Yeah. Some storm, huh? Merry Christmas Eve.

I frowned at the message, trying to decipher what it meant. The longer I stared at it, the more the letters blurred into nonsense, and the more my chest tightened with an inkling that felt more and more true by the moment. One I didn’t want to accept.

I got up and made it as far as a square bale of straw before collapsing onto it in a defeated, heartbroken heap.

A chickadee landed near my feet, then another, ready for their morning treat of sunflower seeds.

I filled my palm from the nearby container of seeds and held it out for the chickadees.

They landed lightly with their chilly, claw-like feet, taking turns, one after another, like a well-coordinated airport.

Grab a seed and fly off. Grab a seed and fly off.

Haden had forgotten last night. We were back to avoiding each other. Back to the layers of misunderstandings that had added up over the years.

My phone vibrated with another message, and I peered at it.

Haden

I hope my mom didn’t pester you while I was out working in last night’s storm. If she did—sorry.

I let out a strangled squeak and dropped my phone, pressing the heels of my hands against my eye sockets. I focused on my jagged breathing, trying to settle it.

No, no, no.

He was gone. My wish had undone everything.

I sniffed, then again, aware tears were streaking down my cheeks.

The door opened to the barn, and I stood so fast, I got woozy. “Haden?”

Someone was approaching, the dawn light at their back. “He won’t recall anything from the magical world, or anything related to it.”

Estelle. Her look of soft sympathy crushed me even further.

“He’ll remember no thing?”

She nodded, her hair still singed from last night’s banishment.

“But we fell in love last night…” I was sure we had. Shouldn’t that overcome everything else?

“I’m sorry, Tamara. You know that rewinding the night to let things play out without you hitting Rudolph was the only way to safely extract you. He was a bystander, and all bystanders lose their memories when we do time mending. It’s a very minor consequence.”

“No.” I stood, shaking my head. I couldn’t imagine the cruelty of me remembering the fun we’d had, and Haden being oblivious to it all. “I still remember.”

“Would you like your memories erased as well? I have the ability to wipe them, but the head fairy thought you would want them as a memento.”

“ No ! You don’t understand. He has to remember, too. He has to!”

Estelle sniffed, avoiding meeting my eyes.

“Santa and his entourage are all okay, and have been returned to the North Pole. Christmas will proceed as usual, thanks to your wish, and whatever you said to Mrs. Claus. She is proceeding with Christmas, and you have been removed from the naughty list. Very well done.”

I waved off her compliment. Mrs. Claus had only needed someone to make her see her own self-worth, and how much she was loved.

“I want to make a wish.”

“A wish?”

“Just one. Help me get Haden’s memories back from last night, so he remembers falling in love with me.”

“I can’t.”

“We can skip over the magical interaction stuff. Just let him remember that he loves me, and remember that I also love him. Something—anything along those lines. He doesn’t have to remember being here, or Rudolph, or any of that stuff. Please.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Estelle gave me a sad frown. “This is where we part ways.”

“What do you mean? Why? I’ll pay for the wish. Whatever it costs. I’ll find a way.” The idea of losing Haden was horrible. What if I couldn’t get him to love me without the magic of last night? What if I wasn’t enough on my own? “I need your help. Please, Estelle.”

“You’ve been banished,” she said softly.

“Banished? No, I haven’t. Look at me. I’m not singed or sunburned.” I held out my arms to show her. I likely looked a mess, but I hadn’t been scorched like she’d been.

“You’ve been forbidden from having any interactions with the magical world, including making wishes.”

“But…”

“You got off easy. I’m sorry.” Estelle turned and walked back out of the barn.

A sob rushed up my throat, escaping before I could catch it.