Page 15 of Tinsel & Chrome

She bolts inside without hesitation, leaving me alone with Alex.

I glance at my son. He’s taller now, leaner, growing into a man right before my eyes. But there’s something else in him. Something quieter. He’s been holding onto something.

I nod toward the lights he’s still adjusting. “You ever gonna tell me what’s on your mind, or you planning to hold onto that shit ‘til it eats you up?”

Alex sighs, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “It’s nothing.”

I raise a brow. “Bullshit.”

His jaw ticks, and for a second, I think he’s gonna brush it off again. Then, he exhales sharply, kicking at a stray ornament on the porch.

“It’s just... Mom didn’t even call.”

I stiffen, my fingers curling into fists before I force them to relax.

He’s not wrong. It’s been a year since she left—ran off with some salesman asshole, leaving both of them behind.

I let out a slow breath, watching Bayou’s silhouette through the window, singing to herself as she digs through my cassette tapes.

“She ain’t worth your time, son.”

Alex scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah? Why’s it feel like she never gave a shit about us?”

His voice cracks at the end, just slightly, and it hits me like a punch to the gut.

I step closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t pull away, but he stays stiff.

“She’s the one who walked away,” I say, my voice steady. “That ain’t on you. That ain’t on Bayou. That’s on her.”

Alex nods, but doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah.”

I grip his shoulder tighter. “You don’t gotta say you believe it yet. But you will.”

We stand there for a second, father and son, both too damn stubborn for our own good.

Then Bayou comes barreling back out the door, a handful of cassette tapes and a stuffed reindeer in her arms.

“I found it! And look, I brought Jingle!” She holds up the ratty old reindeer Alex picked out when he was five.

Alex rolls his eyes but grins slightly, taking it from her hands. “Bay, you do realize Jingle’s stuffing is practically falling out, right?”

Bayou huffs, hands on her hips. “That means he’s loved.”

I chuckle, patting Alex’s back before stepping away. “She’s got a point, boy.”

Alex shakes his head but doesn’t argue, tossing Jingle onto the porch railing like it belongs there.

Bayou beams. “Now we can light everything up!”

I hand Alex the extension cord. “Do the honors.”

He plugs it in, and the yard explodes in lights. Santa-gators glowing, crawfish twinkling, and the shotgun above the door catching the flickering colors.

Bayou cheers, Alex shakes his head but smiles, and I just stand there, taking it all in.

Because this is my family. My world.

And Jingle Blaze is just one more reminder that we’re still standing—together.

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