Page 33 of Back to December
The problem is, nothing about this feels normal anymore.
Not the magic in the air.
Not the way Holden looks at me.
Not the way I’m believing, maybe, just maybe, I belong here again.
It’s the same pull Hansel must’ve felt when he saw the lights through the trees: hope flickering like a promise. Tomorrow decides if I follow it… or lose the trail again.
eleven
HOLDEN
By the timeI pull into the drive of my family’s house, McKenna’s waiting for me on the porch with a mug of something and a hoodie. She sets the mug down as I approach and fists my sweatshirt in one hand.
I’ve barely rolled to a stop before she’s half climbing through my window. She’s like a little pixie full of moxie most of the time, the shortest in our family at a little over five feet. But she makes up for her height with her attitude.
“Trade you,” she says, shoving the garment into my chest.
I don’t know why she couldn’t wait until I got out, but I’ll beef with her in a minute. Her impossibly black curls—that she gets from our mother—poke me in the nostrils, tickle my cheeks, and would probably prod my eyeballs if it weren’t for my glasses.
“Kenna, what are you doing?”
“Getting the goods, of course,” she insists, swiping the bag of kolaches I bought from the bakery.
It’s tough to process this odd exchange when I canbarely breathe without inhaling a strand of her hair. Bag in hand, she backs her way through the window and steps off the running board.
“You could ask. I couldhand them to you,” I say, glaring at her. “Avoid all of that.”
“And miss my dramatic entrance? Never.” She’s unfazed as she paws through the bag. “You deserve it. You didn’t even bring a pumpkin one?”
“You could always come by the bakery and snag some before they sell out.”
“It’s my day off. Why would I do that?”
I sigh because I don’t have the energy for Kenna today.
Her dark eyes lift to mine. “You’d lose your head if it weren’t attached. I’m glad you’ve got Laila to help keep it straight.”
I contemplate staying in the truck. She’s poking for information, and I’m only here out of sheer obligation.
“Laila isn’t my secretary.”
I’ve got a distinct feeling that she’s seen or heard something, since it feels like she’s fishing for information. It could’ve been anywhere: the phone tree, the gnomes, or Hollow Hub, the town's social media app. There’s never a quiet moment around here.
I’ve barely had time to breathe, now that Laila is home. My family’s always teased me about how hard I work, but I didn’t realize how spot on they were until now. Especially now that I’m carving out time for someone who isn’t family, someone just as busy as I am.
Not that Laila has had much free time either. If she’s not working on Holly’s wedding with Ella, she’s off doing who knows what with her social media businesses. I never imagined it would be this hard to juggle.
“No,” McKenna says, popping a piece of strawberry kolache into her mouth. “You’re right. But she’s the only person you’ve ever let close enough to be part of your daily life, business included. You don’t even let me handle the things she does.”
If I didn’t know Kenna almost as well as I know myself, I’d think she was hurt. But she’s just being honest. I’ve definitely let Laila past a lot of the lines I draw for most people. Maybe it’s because they never existed with her to begin with.
“You think she keeps my head on straight?”
She says it like a tease, but there’s something tender under it—like she’s been waiting years to see me happy again.
She chuckles and walks toward the quieter space of the fields, away from the house.
