Page 31 of Noel Secrets
Singing.
She blinked in disbelief.
A group of bundled carolers stood in the glow of a corner streetlamp, their voices lifted in soft harmony. The melody floated like fragile glass over the chaos, wrapping the night in calm.
“Silent night, holy night…” they sang.
Michael’s hand tightened on hers, slowing their run. He pulled her back against the wall, opposite the carolers. His chest heaved against her shoulder as he whispered, “We can’t lead him toward them.”
Jayda nodded quickly, pressing herself into the shadows beside him. They crouched, letting the music mask their ragged breathing.
The gunfire stopped.
Jayda’s ears strained against the silence. Only the carolers sang, their breath visible in white puffs, their faces lit with the candles they held. The contrast was surreal—death and danger only a heartbeat away, yet here was peace.
It was almost as though even their pursuer respected the moment.
Her shoulders dropped an inch, the tightness in her chest loosening as the voices wove around them. For the first time since the shots began, Jayda breathed deeply.
Michael leaned closer, his whisper brushing her ear. “Funny how even a shooter has to pause for Christmas.”
A laugh bubbled up in her throat, too breathless to release. She turned slightly, her gaze catching the flicker of wonder in his eyes. “You think that’s what this is? Holiday respect?”
“I think…” His voice softened. “I’ve never paid the season much thought before. Maybe I should have.”
She swallowed, her throat tight at his confession. She wasn’t supposed to feel anything for him—least of all this strange ache at his honesty.
“My mom…” Jayda’s voice trembled, but she pushed through. “She made Christmas matter, even when we had nothing. Even if it was just paper snowflakes and cookies from ingredients she scraped together. She made it feel special.”
Michael’s jaw worked, his eyes on the carolers. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sorry I never asked before. I was just angry that you rejected my mom’s attempts.”
Guilt stabbed her chest, sharp and unexpected. Ginny. Sweet, persistent Ginny, who had tried to make Christmas special too, who Jayda had kept at arm’s length. “I never let myself enjoy it with Ginny. It felt like cheating on my mom. Like if I let myself belong to her family, I’d forget my real one.”
Michael’s gaze flicked to her. His voice was low. “I humored my mom. But if I’m being honest—I’ve been ungrateful. For all she’s done.”
Jayda blinked, the weight of realization settling over her like the hush of snow. “We left her behind and this silly train trip she loved putting together. We just…left.”
The song shifted, the carolers’ voices rising in cheerful tempo as they moved on, singing,“We wish you a merry Christmas…”
The feeling changed instantly, from peace to war. Michael straightened, scanning the street again.
Jayda’s chest thudded with urgency. “We have to get back on that train before Ginny realizes we’re gone.”
Michael nodded. “She will be heartbroken.”
“But how will we get to the next stop? It’s Missouri.”
“Nearest rental car’s three blocks,” he said, checking his phone, thumb quick over the screen.
Jayda seized his hand, no hesitation this time. “Let’s move. Together.” And before fear could stop her, she leaned up and kissed him quickly. Maybe out of reassurance that she wasn’t doing this alone, or maybe out of a need she wasn’t ready to dissect.
His stunned inhale brushed her cheek. His eyes burned into hers, sparking with determination. “When this is over, we need to talk.”
“Ifwe make it.”
He kissed her back. “Oh, we’ll make it. I’ll make sure we do.”
The rental car place was smaller than Michael expected, tucked in at the edge of the bus terminal lot like an afterthought. Its neon sign flickered against the evening sky, the glow barely cutting through the thick, falling snowflakes. Inside, the clerk looked half-asleep, leaning on the counter with a weariness that said he’d rather be anywhere else than renting out cars on Christmas week.
