Page 38 of Evan

"Goodnight, Evan," Molly says, her voice barely audible over the crowd's cheers. "Merry Christmas."

Before I can respond, she's gone, leading Chad through the throng of people. I stand there, surrounded by the festive atmosphere of the parade, feeling more alone than I have in months.

The rest of the parade passes in a blur. I'm vaguely aware of Santa's sleigh making its final pass, of the crowd beginning to disperse, but it all feels distant, unreal. My mind is replaying the conversation with Molly, seeing the hurt in her eyes, the way she pulled away from me.

As I make my way back to my truck, the streets of Benton Falls seem different. The twinkling lights that had seemed so magical earlier now feel cold and distant. The laughter and chatter of families heading home grate on my nerves, a stark reminder of what I might be losing.

The drive back to the farm is silent, save for the crunch of gravel under my tires. As I pull up to the farmhouse, its dark windows a reflection of the emptiness I feel inside, I'm struck by how different everything looks. Just this morning, this place had felt full of possibility, of warmth, of the future I was building with Molly and Chad. Now, it feels like a reminder of all I stand to lose.

I make my way inside, not bothering to turn on the lights. In the darkness of the living room, I sink into my favorite armchair, the weight of the evening settling over me like a heavy blanket.

What have I done?

The question echoes in my mind as I replay the evening's events. Molly's hurt expression, the distance in her eyes as she said goodnight, the confusion on Chad's face... it all haunts me.

I pull Morgan's business card out of my pocket, staring at it in the dim light filtering through the windows. This little piece of cardstock, with its promise of adventure and new horizons, suddenly feels like a curse. Is this what I really want? To leave behind everything I've built here, the connections I've made, the love that's been growing between Molly and me?

But even as I question it, I can't deny the small thrill that runs through me at the thought of travel, of seeing the world, of fulfilling the dreams I've held onto for so long. It's a part of me, this wanderlust, as much as the roots I've put down in Benton Falls.

As I sit there in the darkness, I'm struck by the irony of it all. For years, I've felt tied to this place, dreaming of escape. And now that the opportunity is here, now that I have the chance to leave... I'm terrified of losing what I have.

I think back to the first day Molly and Chad came to the farm.The way her eyes lit up when she saw the wreaths and the trees. I remember Chad's excitement the first time he helped me choose a Christmas tree for a customer, his face beaming with pride.

These memories, once a source of warmth and joy, now feel tainted by the hurt I saw in Molly's eyes tonight. I stand up abruptly, unable to sit still with the weight of my thoughts. Pacing the room, I try to sort through the jumble of emotions coursing through me. Guilt, longing, fear, excitement - they all war within me, leaving me feeling raw and confused.

Part of me wants to rush to Molly's house, to explain everything, to beg for understanding. But I know that's not the answer. She was right - we both need time to think.

As I pass by the mantle, my eyes fall on a photo taken just a few weeks ago. It's of Molly, Chad, and me amongst the Christmas trees. We're all laughing, covered in pine needles, our cheeks red from the cold. We look... happy. Like a family.

The sight of it stops me in my tracks. Is this what I'm willing to give up? This warmth, this sense of belonging, this love that's been growing between us?

But then my gaze shifts to the window, to the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. They seem to call to me, reminding me of all the places I've dreamed of seeing, all the adventures I've longed to have.

I sink back into the armchair, feeling torn in two. As the clock on the mantle chimes midnight, I'm no closer to a decision. The parade's festive atmosphere feels like a distant memory, replaced by the heavy silence of the farmhouse and the weight of the choice before me.

I close my eyes, wishing for clarity, for a sign of what I should do. But all I see is Molly's hurt expression, the disappointment in her eyes as she walked away.

What have I done? And more importantly, what am I going to do now?

The questions linger in the air, unanswered, as the night wears on. Outside, the world is blanketed in the quiet peace of a winter's night. But inside, in the darkness of the farmhouse, my heart and mind continue their tumultuous debate, leaving me feeling more lost and uncertain than ever before.

As the first light of dawn creeps through the windows, I realize I've spent the entire night in that chair, turning over every possibility in my mind. My body aches from the lack of movement, but it's nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

I stand, stretching my stiff muscles, and make my way to the kitchen. The coffee maker gurgles to life, filling the air with the rich aroma of brewing coffee. It's a comforting scent, a part of my daily routine, but today it feels hollow, just another reminder of how everything has changed.

As I wait for the coffee to brew, I stare out the window at the farm. The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the rows of evergreens. It's a sight I've seen countless times, but today it feels different. Today, I'm seeing it through the lens of potential loss.

I think about Morgan's offer, about the excitement of travel and new experiences. But then my mind drifts back to Molly, to the hurt in her eyes last night, to the way she pulled away from me.

A new thought occurs to me, one that sends a chill through my body despite the warmth of the kitchen. What if Molly doesn't really care about me as much as I thought? If she truly cared, wouldn't she have stayed to talk it through, to understand my perspective?

The coffee maker beeps, signaling it's done, but I hardly notice. My mind is racing now, replaying every interaction with Molly, searching for signs I might have missed.

She ran away at the first sign of a problem. Just like that, she shut down and walked away. Is that how she handles all difficulties? Is that the kind of relationship I want to be in?

I pour myself a cup of coffee, the familiar action feeling strangely disconnected from reality. As I take the first sip, the bitter taste matches my mood.

Maybe I've been fooling myself all along. Maybe what I thought was growing between us was just a comfortable illusion, a way to feel less lonely in a place I've always felt trapped.

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