Page 52 of Back to December
eighteen
HOLDEN
I should probably head upstairs.
The bakery is quiet, the hush that only happens after a long day. It’s the kind of quiet that hums under your skin—and I could probably make it go away with a CD. But then I think of Laila, and the thought of music aches more than the silence.
The porch light glows in the window, steady as a heartbeat, and I realize I’ve been staring at it for ten minutes.
McKenna’s words won’t leave me alone.You’re not doing nothing. You’re waiting.
I drag out the stationery box we keep by the register for thank-you notes—the one McKenna decorated with pressed flowers last spring. It’s a little much, but I’m too weary to care. The lid sticks a little; maybe that’s a sign I’ve waited long enough.
Inside are scraps of paper, old receipts, and an unused envelope with a smudge of flour across one corner. It feels like her somehow.
I don’t know if this will work. But since I tucked Sebastian’s magic coin into her bag, I have to try. She told me back in Sweetheart Springs that she believes we’re soulmates. And the enchanted letters travel between those.
There’s no magic in Colorado—that I know of. But that was when I had the coin with me. So maybe, just maybe, it’s with her now.
All I know is that I have to try.
I pull a blank sheet toward me and uncap a pen. The bakery smells like cinnamon and sugar, and the ghosts of gingerbread people that didn’t make it through the day.
I stare at the page for a long moment before I start.
And then I write.
Dear Laila,
I’ve got no clue if this will work. After I talked to Ella about the letters, she seems to think that they only work here in Enchanted Hollow. But I believe in soulmates, and you told me you did, too. So maybe this will travel to wherever you are.
I hope it’s okay that I’m writing to you even though I told you I’d give you space.
You don’t have to write back.
But McKenna reminded me that maybe I don’t tell you as much as I thought I did. So that’s what I’m going to do until you come back home. I’m going to write to you and tell you things that I usually keep to myself.
Feelings and ideas…that sort of thing. They usually feel safer when I’m the only one who knows about them.
Remember how I told you I was trying to find your new account after our trip last December? I got caught up in all the baking videos. It’s cool that people want to watch us ice cookies or score sourdough bread—it’s more of that everyday magic you’re always talking about.
When I was at the farm to talk to Ella and Luke, I went to Violet’s greenhouse and proposed an idea. I thought it might be dumb, but I thought—maybe not—since I saw several videos about it.
Gingerbread bouquets.
They’re a mixture of cookies and flowers. We could put them at the farm stand or sell them during the Christmas market. It’s a big pivot for me, but Violet seems excited about it, and she knows wholesalers.
I’m in over my head, but I’m listening to the people around me who know better.
I wish you were here to help with that.
All my love,
Holden
Dear Laila,
It’s actually easier to write than I expected. Maybe because I hope you’re actually getting these,but I have no way to know if you are or not?
