Page 58 of Back to December
twenty-one
HOLDEN
DECEMBER
“Hey,Holden. You’ve been single for a while now, right?” Gus Thompson asks it the way someone might ask the time, innocent, too casual to be accidental. His coffee mug rattles against the counter when he leans back in his chair, eyes twinkling.
“Single’s a funny word,” I tell him. “Pretty sure the definition changes depending on who’s talking.”
He grins, unfazed. “Don’t overthink it, son. Just saying. The town hasn’t seen you with anybody since Laila Mitchell. Shame, too. You two looked good together. Like a postcard you’d find down at the Treasure Trove Trading Company.”
I hide a smile behind my hand. “Appreciate the compliment, Gus.”
“Compliment? I’m just speaking the truth.” He chuckles. “You ever see a man look that smitten andnotend up married?”
Before I can answer, Quinn slides behind the counter with her usual tornado-in-lip-gloss energy. “Would you please stop riling up the customers, Gus? You’re worse than one of those little dogs that bark at air. Would you like a refill of that coffee, or a muzzle?”
She bats her eyelashes so sweetly it’s hard to recognize the bite behind her words.
He holds up both hands. “I’m just asking questions!”
“Sure.” She eyes him like a hawk, sizing up a field mouse. “You want your regular?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he blurts.
She smirks like she’s proud of herself and turns to me. “And you? The usual?”
“Extra, extra large.”
Quinn punches the order in, humming under her breath. “So, Linda said Laila called her about a week ago.”
She still hasn’t written me back, but that’s okay. The letters keep disappearing, which makes me think they’re being delivered safely to her. Hopefully not in a trash can.
My pulse stumbles. “She did?”
“Yep,” she says, like it’s no big deal. “She wanted to know about the apartment above the shop. No one’s lived there for years, even before Linda sold me the shop. In fact, I think the only time it’s ever had residents was that first year she came back, and we were there together for that one weekend.”
I tap the counter—one finger after another—in a slow little wave while I process.
“Linda told her that the space is hers if she wants it.” Her eyes lift to mine. “And you know Linda; she’s picky about who she lets into her life. She won’t charge her.”
“That sounds like Linda,” I say, smiling faintly. “Always taking care of everyone else before herself.”
“Good timing,” Quinn adds, flipping her rag over one shoulder. “She also mentioned there’s a little leak up there—pipe behind the kitchen wall, I think. She said Sam’s supposed to swing by this week, but who knows when he’ll actually get to it.”
“He will,” I say automatically. “Sam’s basically the town’s Robin Hood these days, always running around fixing things for everyone else.”
Quinn snorts. “All he’s missing is the tights.”
I laugh under my breath. “Please don’t give him ideas.”
“Between his handyman heroics and Logan’s Airbnb guests, I’m surprised either of them sleeps,” she says. “Didn’t Sebastian just stay out there?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “That man’s everywhere lately.”
The thought lingers—quiet, but heavy. Enchanted Hollow has a way of weaving people together right before everything shifts.
Quinn wipes her hands on a towel, then leans her hip against the counter. “Linda didn’t say why she called, did she?”
