Page 32 of Sweet Christmas Comeback
He stopped, the harness hanging loose in his hands.
Who was he kidding? He was already attached. Had been since she’d nearly electrocuted herself and he’d come running like some knight in flannel armor. Maybe even before that, if he was honest. Maybe since high school, when she’d chewed on her pen during physics class and he’d lost track of bridge calculations completely.
His phone buzzed again. Text from Mayor Clark:
Leo, people are asking about rides. Do you have the route mapped out?
Leo stared at the message. His thumb hovered over the screen.
He could type out a response. Make up an excuse. Vixen’s leg, equipment trouble, something. Get himself off the hook cleanly.
Or he could just... not respond. Let the silence speak for itself.
He chose silence.
Another text appeared immediately:
Is everything okay? Call me when you can.
Leo silenced his phone completely and shoved it back in his pocket.
From across the fence, he could hear faint sounds from the bakery. A door opening and closing. Mabel’s voice calling something he couldn’t make out. Normal morning sounds from a business trying to survive against impossible odds.
A business he’d just made it harder for.
Leo hung up the harness with careful precision, then moved to check water troughs. Anything to keep moving, keep busy, keep from thinking too hard about the look on Jade’s face when she heard he’d bailed on the festival.
She’d figure something out. She was resourceful, capable. She’d managed before he got involved, and she’d manage after he was gone.
The fact that his chest hurt when he thought about being “gone” from her life was something he chose not to examine.
Vixen nudged him, and he realized he’d been standing at the water trough for five minutes without actually checking anything.
“Besides,” he said aloud, as if the reindeer needed convincing, “she’s selling the bakery anyway. What does she care about one festival? It’s not like the revenue matters now.”
The words should have made him feel better. Should have eased the guilt gnawing at his ribs. If she were selling, then the whole festival was just... theater. Going through the motions for a business that was already gone.
So really, he was doing everyone a favor by pulling out now. Saving them all the effort of pretending this Christmas miracle was going to save anything.
“Right,” he told Vixen. “It doesn’t even matter. The sleigh rides were supposed to help the bakery, but if there’s nobakery...” He trailed off, the justification feeling hollow even as he spoke it.
Vixen turned her back on him, which felt like judgment.
“She said it herself,” Leo continued, his voice taking on an edge. “Selling is the only option. So what’s the point? Why show up and play Santa’s helper for a business that’s already gone?”
But even as he said it, something uncomfortable twisted in his gut. Because Jade hadn’t wanted to sell. He’d seen it in her face, heard it in her voice when she’d explained about the electrical bills and the impossible math. She’d been devastated.
And he’d taken that devastation and used it as proof of her inevitable departure. Had thrown it back at her like a weapon.
Comet snorted, steam puffing from his nostrils in the cold air.
“Fine. Maybe I feel a little bad about it,” Leo admitted. “But what does she care? In a month she’ll be back in Boston or wherever, and this place will be someone else’s problem. She doesn’t need sleigh rides. She doesn’t need?—”
He stopped himself before he could finish that sentence.
She doesn’t need me.
That’s what this was really about, wasn’t it? Not Lila, not protecting himself from future pain. It was simpler and more pathetic than that: Jade was leaving, so why should he care?
