Page 84 of Carnival Mayhem

“Try it on,” Nash encourages.

I slip my arms into the sleeves, marveling at how perfectly it fits. The coat hugs my curves while allowing room for movement, and the length falls past my knees. The inside is lined with the softest material I’ve ever felt.

“You both got this for me?” I ask, touched by their thoughtfulness.

“We couldn’t have our girl freezing,” Colt says.

I kiss him deeply, then turn to give Nash the same treatment. “Thank you both. I love it.”

“Stay warm out there,” Nash says as I approach the door.

My new coat staves off the cold as I walk down the steps and onto the snow-covered ground.

I pull it tighter around me as I walk through the snow-covered carnival grounds. For the first time in forever, I feel... lighter. Free. The weight of my past doesn’t press down quite as hard anymore.

I don’t remember much about my real parents. Just fragments, really—a woman’s perfume maybe, or the sound of a deep laugh. The social workers told me my parents dropped me off at a care center when I was four. They didn’t explain, no goodbye, just left me there like an unwanted package.

The foster homes that followed blur together in my memory. Some were better than others, but none felt like home. The worst foster home was here in Easthollow with the Lowleys.

A snowflake lands on my nose, and I smile, tilting my face up to catch more. The carnival is quiet this morning, peaceful under its blanket of white. No one around to see me act childish, spinning in slow circles with my arms spread wide.

The memories that used to haunt me daily are still there, but they no longer have the same power over me. My new coat wraps me in warmth, a physical reminder that I’m cared for now, protected, and loved.

For the first time since my abandonment, I feel like I have a real family. Not the kind that leaves, hurts, or ignores. The kind that stays, fights for you, and loves you exactly as you are.

I head into town, my first stop being a small boutique. For Alice, I find a quirky coffee mug with a sassy saying—perfect forher bold personality. Lily would love this delicate silver bracelet with tiny stars.

Moving to the bookstore next door, I spot a leather-bound journal that screams Tilly’s name. She’s always scribbling code and game ideas. For Aurora, I pick up the latest thriller novel she’s been talking about.

Sofia’s gift is trickier, but I find a beautiful burgundy scarf that perfectly complements her hair.

For my boys... I want something special. Something that shows how much they mean to me. In an antique shop, I discover two matching vintage pocket watches. The shopkeeper tells me they’re from the same set—meant to be together, just like Nash and Colt. They’re beautiful, with intricate engravings and heavy silver cases. They cost most of my savings, but they’re worth it.

I also pick up some leather cords so they can wear the watches around their necks. The thought of them wearing matching pieces makes me smile.

As I gather my bags, warmth spreads through my chest. These aren’t just gifts—they’re tangible proof that I have people in my life worth celebrating—people who care about me and people I care about in return.

37

NASH

Colt’s face lights up as we spot the perfect tree at the lot—not too tall to fit in our trailer, but full and green with that classic Christmas shape. We haven’t bothered with a tree in years, but this year feels different. Flora deserves a proper Christmas.

“This one,” we say in unison, making us both laugh. The lot owner helps us secure it to the top of the van while Colt loads boxes of ornaments and lights into the back. I insisted on getting everything new—shiny balls in red and gold, tinsel, a proper tree skirt, and a delicate angel for the top.

The drive back is tense with anticipation. I keep checking my phone, making sure Flora hasn’t returned early from her shopping trip with Aurora. Colt drums his fingers on the steering wheel, probably as anxious as I am to set everything up before she returns.

When we arrive, our trailer is mercifully empty. We maneuver the tree through the door, knocking over a lamp. Colt rights it while I adjust the tree stand, ensuring it’s perfectly straight. The fresh pine scent fills our small space, returning memories of childhood Christmases I thought I’d forgotten.

“Should we start decorating?” Colt asks, already opening one of the ornament boxes.

I shake my head. “Let’s wait for our little bird. She should help with that part.”

While Colt arranges the boxes of decorations around the tree, I head to the kitchen. Something is comforting about the ritual of baking—measuring flour, creaming butter, and sugar, the familiar motions grounding me as I prepare a batch of sugar cookies. I found my grandmother’s recipe tucked away in an old notebook, and somehow, it feels right to share this piece of my past with my new family.

The cookie dough chills in the fridge while I start on some hot chocolate—the real kind, with melted chocolate and cream, not that powdered stuff. The trailer fills with warmth and sweet smells as we wait for Flora to return home.

I’m stirring the hot chocolate when I hear the door open, followed by Flora’s gasp of surprise. Colt immediately moves to help her with the shopping bags weighing her down.

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