Page 72 of Light My Fire Three Times
She doesn’t.
And that leaves me scared that my cousin and I might have contributed to her desire to leave Coyote Glen. To return to the job and the boss who had completely crushed her spirit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Olivia
DECEMBER 2ND
The Christmas marketset up in the middle of the town is a snow globe.
Lights everywhere, fake snow drifting out of some machine, Christmas music playing on an endless sugar high. People are walking around holding cocoa and smiling from ear to ear.
Meanwhile, I’m here, clutching a stuffed penguin like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.
“Hold this,” Ivy had said before practically diving after a rogue sippy cup that decided it was too cool to hang out in the stroller.
So now it’s me and Mr. Penguin, standing awkwardly in the middle of festive cheer while Ivy wrestles the triplets’ chaos back into submission. One of them starts crying, and Ivy gives me a look thatsays, 'Kill me now.’
I grin, because honestly? This is the most distracting thing I’ve done in days, and I’m grateful for it—anything to keep my brain from replaying the last twenty-four hours on a loop.
She finally pops back up, flushed and grinning like she just won an Olympic event in toddler wrangling.
“How do you even survive this every day?” I ask.
“Coffee. And damn,” she says, deadpan, before tucking a blanket around the baby that’s now trying to eat her own mitten.
I snort. “Solid strategy.”
We keep walking, dodging carolers and the guy dressed as an elf who’s aggressively handing out gingerbread cookies.
Everywhere smells of cinnamon and pine and nostalgia, and all I can think is:Too bad life doesn’t smell that nice right now.
“So,” Ivy says after a while, side-eying me over the stroller handle. “You gonna tell me why you look like someone canceled Christmas and kicked your puppy?”
I blink at her. “That obvious?”
“Liv, you’ve got a major, tragic heroine in a candlelit castle vibe happening right now.” She tilts her head. “What’s going on? You seem… I don’t know. Off.”
I laugh, the sound too sharp to feel real. “Nothing. Just… stuff.”
“Stuff,” she repeats, mentally circling it in red pen. “Like fire-related stuff? How’s the house?”
Ah, safe topic. Finally.
“Still standing, technically.” I let out a breath that fogs in the air. “But every time the guys pull up a floorboard or look at a wall, it’s like, surprise! Here’s another thing that costs a fortune to fix.”
“That bad?”
“Worse.” My laugh comes out hollow. “I’m basically hemorrhaging money at this point. Honestly, I might pitch a tent in the wreckage and call it rustic living.”
“Ugh, Liv.” She makes this sympathetic noise that almost undoes me. “Anything I can do?”
“Unless you’ve got a spare ten grand stashed in the stroller?” I joke, but my voice cracks a little. I couldreallydo with getting out of Leo and Karl’s place.
She bumps my shoulder with hers. “I’ve got twenty bucks and half a peppermint bark coupon. Will that help?”
And somehow, I laugh. Really laugh. The sound surprises me, but it feels good not to be suffocating under everything for two seconds.
