Page 22 of Sweet Silver Bells

Darius paid, collected a single twenty-ounce plastic cup filled with a foamy yellow liquid, and let the others move through the window.

Hunter went next, collected his alcohol, being the last of their smaller, divided group to not order the hot mug of spiced mule.

The cold condensation on his hands after some of his drink bounced over the rim made him regret not ordering something hot, so he began to chug.

“Whoa, there's a lumberjack,” Darius laughed. “I know I joked about double fisting, but you’re really going for it.”

“I just want it out of my hands,” Hunter said, gasping for air with only a fifth of the beer left as the others gathered around him. His head immediately got lighter, his shoulders relaxed, and his blood warmed.

“Are they still in line for the carousel?” Sadie asked. “I wanted to get to know this new girl better.”

“I’m not happy that she was pulled away from me,” Hunter said, eyeing the carousel in the distance, unable to make out any individual people.

“A little possessive, are we, then? Hunter, that’s certainly a new side of you I’ve never seen,” Sadie said, sipping her spiced steaming mug and then frowning. “Ooh, that’s not good.”

Sadie wasn’t wrong. Hunter’s anxiety had been growing, his fingers throbbing since Olivia’s hand was not laced within his.

“The drink helps, but yeah, it’s a new relationship, and she’s new to the area. I’m a little protective.”

“I like tipsy Hunter,” Darius said. “He’s an entirely more dominant type of man.”

“I went to his house yesterday, and I thought she was going to jump on me, attack me; so you know, it could be some of her hostile influence.” Sadie snorted.

“I didn’t get hostile from her,” Nina said, “more whimsical, a woodland fairy.”

“With claws,” Sadie muttered.

“Let’s talk about how jealous you sound.” Darius laughed at Sadie.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sadie.” Hunter sighed, gulping down the last of his beer. “Let’s go explore so I can go home.”

“That’s the spirit,” Darius said, cheering his beer in the air. “We can head over in that general direction so they can catch up.”

The five began walking down the row toward the carousel, vendors smiling and trying to attract customers to their handmade trinkets. Their pace was slow as they perused hand-knitted scarves, caramel popcorn in ribbon-wrapped jars, and jewelry.

Hunter stopped at one of the tables, picking up a necklace with a moon pendant hanging from a silver chain. It glistened as if it were made of the very snow that threatened to start falling from the sky at any moment, a sheen over the pendant that caught and held onto any light it could pull.

“Spooky necklace,” Darius said. “She’s into that stuff, then, your new girl? The dark and the ominous?”

“It’s just a moon, Darius,” Hunter said, but he wasn’t wrong; it did remind him of Olivia.

“I’ll take this,” he said, holding it up to the vendor. He then handed over some cash before moving on.

“Oh my gosh,” Nina squealed. “Look at those ornaments. Tiny reindeer made out of walnuts. I wonder if I can make this an art project for the kindergartners next year.”

“I think suggesting that five-year-olds can make what someone is trying to sell can be defeating,” Hunter heard Tom say.

“Tom’s kind of a dick, no?” Darius lowered his voice.

Hunter nodded.

“We don’t need any more ornaments, Nina. The tree already looks like it has exploded,” Tom said as Nina moved onto another vendor table, lifting a glittery snowflake.

“But these are so festive.” Her smile didn’t suggest that she realized that Tom was a dick.

“So was the glitter avalanche last year. I was still finding sparkles in my socks in late March.” Tom moved over to Hunter and Darius, his eyebrows raised as if he were joking with a group of his friends.

“I’m sorry, are you talking to us?” Darius just went for it, Tom’s head drooping as he moved back to stand by Nina.

“Glitter never leaves. It haunts you forever, like taxes or ghosts,” Sadie said, grimacing while forcing down another drink.

“You don’t have to finish that,” Hunter said.

“This? Oh no, this was twenty dollars. You are very mistaken. I absolutely do have to finish it.”

Darius moved up to the next vendor, huffing and puffing.

“Here we go,” Sadie muttered.

“Ethically sourced alpaca wool? What does that mean exactly?” Darius wasn’t yelling at the vendor, but his voice was raised enough for Hunter to hear everything he was saying clearly. “Did the alpaca get a say?”

Sadie ran up and pushed him back, his hands dropping the smock he held up. “Darius, we talked about this. No activism at the holiday market.”

Sadie, always caring too much.

“I’m just saying.” Darius turned toward her. “Last year's protest got us a lot of attention.”

Hunter chuckled at the memory. “You mean when you chained yourself to the Christmas tree displayed at the town square? That tree had already been cut, Darius.”

“It’s about the message. That tree was not sustainably harvested,” Darius said, bending the now empty plastic cup in his hand. They were all getting a little flustered by the alcohol in their blood.

Hunter just needed to keep moving forward, towards where he knew Olivia to be last. They had been apart for too long.

“You know, Darius, you and Olivia might actually get along,” Hunter said, gently pushing Darius along.

“Oh really? She’s into activism, too?”

“Not exactly, but she’s really into trees.”

“Guys! Guys! Gingerbread house contest, right now!” Nina yelled, grabbing Tom by the hand and running through a group of teenagers who were very much judging her enthusiasm.

Hunter tried to look over the cluster of heads and bouncing Santa hats, searching for a glimpse of shiny black hair that might catch the moonlight—or, under this tent, the harsh glow of Christmas lights strung too bright and too low.

Sadie nudged him firmly, steering him toward the larger open tent to his left.

Inside, rows of tables were covered with candy bowls and cookie pieces, and volunteers in bright red Santa hats offered forced, tired smiles to the crowd.

“Nina, the last time you turned this into a contest, you nearly filed for divorce over a sandcastle,” Tom said. He ducked slightly under a sagging string of plastic mistletoe that brushed his hair.

“For someone so sweet and small, she is oddly competitive,” Darius added. He stood just behind Tom, arms crossed, his winter coat streaked with powdered sugar from who knew what.

Nina ignored them both and dropped into the nearest seat. She grabbed a stack of hard gingerbread panels as if she planned to build a real house, not a candy version destined to collapse. “You refused to commit to the turret, Tom. Do not rewrite history.”

Sadie laughed and rested her elbow on Hunter’s shoulder. “Should we be worried? Is your marriage at the mercy of gingerbread and icing this year?”

Tom shot her a flat look, then turned to Hunter. “If you could just make something truly terrible, I would owe you. It might save me from a long car ride full of gloating.”

Hunter forced a grin, though his mind drifted to the tent entrance.

He could not help searching for Olivia. Somewhere out there, Celia and Elaine were probably trying to keep her calm or distracted.

He should have been beside her, not stuck pretending he could joke about Christmas like everyone else.

“Don’t drag me into your domestic warfare,” Hunter said, hoping his voice did not sound as strained as he felt.

Sadie pushed away from him and pointed a finger at Nina. “I am going to build a gingerbread mansion. It will be art. It will be iconic.”

Nina did not even look up. Her hands moved so fast that gumdrops and peppermint bark scattered onto the table. She pressed icing along every seam with the precision of a surgeon.

“She’s just as scary as your haunted forest, Hunter,” Sadie said, wagging her eyebrows.

Hunter managed a laugh. He could still feel the tight knot in his chest where Christmas used to sit warm and easy. Sarah had made this season feel like peace. Now it was noise, obligation, and small talk that did not fill the space she’d left behind.

“My gingerbread house will be eco-friendly,” Darius declared. He claimed the spot across from Nina and began stacking pieces without any clear plan. “It will reflect the harsh reality of deforestation.”

Hunter shook his head. “So, just a sad pile of crumbs, then?”

Darius pointed at him with a piece of peppermint stick. “It is called minimalism. Also, it is called helping my best friend escape this nonsense as quickly as possible.”

Hunter appreciated him for that. Darius always had a quiet way of protecting everyone without smothering them.

He sank into a slate-gray folding chair and made sure he could see the tent entrance clearly.

He tried to tune out Nina barking orders at Tom, who looked like he regretted every life choice that had brought him to this table.

Sadie hummed while smearing frosting across a roof that sagged dangerously.

Darius poked at his crumbling pile as if it might fix itself if he stared hard enough.

He should have been doing this with Sarah. They would have laughed at their crooked walls and eaten half the candy before finishing the roof. He wondered if she would hate how he clung to this ghost version of her every Christmas.

“Use more icing, Darius. More is better,” Nina shouted, sounding like a drill sergeant covered in sugar.

“My roof is sliding off,” Sadie said. She pressed her lips together and looked at her disaster.

Nina slapped her hands on the table. “You did not brace the walls properly. That is basic gingerbread physics.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow at her. “Why do you look personally insulted by poor construction?”

Darius sighed. “This is why the world needs sustainable architecture. Less heartbreak, fewer broken roofs.”

Sadie threw up her hands. “Can I just drown my walls in frosting without getting a lecture from the holiday tyrant?”

Nina ignored her. Minutes later, her own gingerbread masterpiece buckled and collapsed in a sticky heap. Her cheeks flushed as red as her Santa hat. Hunter half-expected her to flip the entire table, and part of him wished she would.

“Someone get that angry little elf a drink,” Sadie muttered. She ducked when Nina swatted at her arm. “It is not that serious, I promise.”

Hunter stood as the group filed out of the tent, the cold air biting at the heat building under his collar. Snow drifted down, settling in his hair and lashes until he blinked it away. This time of year used to feel like hope. Now, it just reminded him how much he had lost.

“Time for another beer,” Darius said, leading the charge back into the fairgrounds. Sadie muttered something about donuts and hurried after him.

Hunter stopped short when he saw Olivia. She walked toward him with Celia and Elaine on either side, all three of them dark silhouettes against the glitter of lights and fresh snow. Elaine hooked her arm through Olivia’s and called out over the chatter.

“Your girlfriend is a prize, Hunter. Honestly, she could do so much better, so worship the ground she walks on.”

Relief cracked through his chest like a breath of warm air. He looked into Olivia’s dark eyes, the only thing that made him feel steady in all this chaos.

“Do not worry,” Hunter said. He stepped forward and let Olivia catch his hand. “I already do.”