Page 40 of Back to December
I think about Holly’s laughter earlier, bright and unguarded. How she danced to whatever music the DJ for this “hangout” spun, barefoot and singing loudly like someone living her life for herself. Without fear, without running away from anything. Not from fame or fear or anyone’s version of her story.
She just decided she liked her version better.
Maybe that’s what love does—it quiets the noise until you can finally hear your own heartbeat again.
Last winter, I told Holden marriage wasn’t for me—that I wasn’t built for something that always ended in leaving. He never argued. He just looked at me like he could already see the day I’d change my mind. And maybe he was right. Sitting here now, the idea doesn’t feel like a cage anymore—it feels like a choice. A promise you keep remaking every day, even when no one’s watching.
I think I’ve been so unhappy with the world I’ve built online because I was focused on the wrong part of it. I was looking for the wrong proof that happiness exists. It doesn’t live in likes or engagement, or shares. I couldn’t find it there because it’s madness and chaos and inauthentic.
It lives in the stillness. The moments that act like heartbeats between words.
Holden shifts so he’s back beside me, his knee brushing mine. “You’re quiet all of a sudden. You okay?”
“I think so,” I say. “I’m just thinking about stories. Henry says that sometimes we need to change the ending when the story’s purpose changes. But maybe they change when we stop trying to make them perfect.”
He smiles at that, and I feel it—steady, certain, the same way the light spills over the water.
Henry would probably call this a ritual.
I think it’s just life.
Or maybe love.
A breeze rolls through the trees, soft as breath, and the lanterns above us flicker. For a heartbeat, everything stills. The pond, the air, me.
And somewhere deep down, I know the truth I’m still too afraid to say out loud?—
I’m not running either.
I just finally stopped long enough to notice where I am.
And who’s still sitting beside me.
The story isn’t over. Maybe it’s just finally catching up with us.
fourteen
HOLDEN
I’m usually stuckon the sidelines at events, if I even stick around for them at all. Tonight is different because when the groom asks you to hang out, you have to say yes.
Both Cade and Holly opted out of bachelor and bachelorette parties, but I can’t really blame them with their levels of notoriety. It’s not just Enchanted Hollow that treats them like royalty.
Ever After Farms is closed to the public, but the Jacksons kept their doors open for all of Cade and Holly’s friends for a casual post-rehearsal dinner scene. There’s a soft hum of music, the scent of cider and smoke. For once, it’s not work, it’s a memory in the making. Normally I’d watch from behind the counter instead of living inside.
Cade is sitting by one fire pit with all his teammates, and Holly is sitting around another, surrounded by females. Including Laila. She glances around, like she’s looking for something. When her eyes find mine, I know it was for me.
The invisible string that runs between us snaps tight, almost tugging me toward her with the momentum. That pull has always been there, like some invisible current trying to drag me home. Maybe this is what people mean when they talk about gravity.
“Sit with us,” Cade says, grabbing my shirt sleeve as I physically step toward her.
I blink, startled out of my Laila-induced trance. “What?”
“Sit,” Logan says.
Weston Reilly’s there too—resident tight end for the Frost Giants—half-hidden behind the biggest bag of marshmallows I’ve ever seen. He’s supposed to be the team’s tight end, but tonight he’s clearly going for honorary s’mores champion.
I’m pretty sure most of the Frost Giants' offense is arguing about how to properly roast a marshmallow.
