Page 1 of Holiday Flame

ONE

JADE

My big brother opens the door to our small town bar, and we’re greeted by the sound of a handful of lumberjacks singing along to “Jingle Bell Rock.”

“Whoa.” I blink in surprise as I take in the dozens of strands of multi-colored Christmas lights. “I know I’ve been gone for a while, but when did the Elk Shack become the North Pole?”

Maverick snorts. “Don’t say that around the mayor. He’ll probably use it as a marketing ploy to boost tourism.”

That notion captures my attention. With the marketing degree I just completed a week ago, I wouldn’t mind a job promoting my town.

“Do you know?—”

Before I can ask my brother if the town is hiring, an ear-splitting shriek cuts through the air.

“Oh my God, it’s Jade,” my best friend Mabel screams from the corner table in the back of the Elk Shack.

Dozens of pairs of eyes turn in unison to stare at me. My cheeks immediately flush.

“Great. So much for making a quiet entrance,” I mumble as I raise a hand to wave at the chorus of voices calling out greetings. “I’ll be lucky if I reach my seat in under half an hour.”

Mav chuckles. “People are just happy to see you.”

“You’d think I was Taylor Swift the way people are staring.”

“Maybe if you came home more often, people wouldn’t need to stare.”

While his tone is light and teasing, my stomach twists with guilt. “I know I should have made it back more. But first, there was summer school, then the study abroad opportunity, and the internship, and?—”

“It’s okay.” He slings an arm around my shoulder and gives me an affectionate squeeze. “You were living your life, and doing a damn good job of it. Besides, it’s water under the bridge. You’re back now.”

“Yes, I am.”

Back to Alaska. In a small town close to the land where my brother and I grew up and now own.

Mav gives another squeeze and whispers, “You make a run for it. I’ll cover for you.”

I beam at him. “You are the best brother. Ever.”

“Just remember that when Emerson and I need a babysitter.”

“Done.” I lean up to plant a kiss on his cheek before slipping away.

As I stealthily make my way across the bar, it’s like stepping into a time capsule of Santa’s workshop. The wooden floors are still scuffed from tables and chairs scraping along them. The walls are covered with vintage bar signs and plaques that read quirky holiday phrases, like “Reindeer Crossing.” The multi-colored lights flicker, casting their glow.

There’s also a lingering hint of smoke in the air, even though no one has been allowed to light up here for years.

There’s even the standard row of men wearing thick red and green sweaters hugging the bar. Though, now that I take a closer look, maybe they’re all sporting hair that’s grown thinner and more salt than pepper since I last set foot in these hallowed walls.

A grin tugs at my lips. “It’s good to be home.”

“Jade! Over here!” Mabel flails her arms in the air, nearly toppling over a row of glasses. “We’re over here.”

As if I—or anyone else in the bar—could miss her.

Reaching the table, I’m swept into a bear hug. Mabel squeezes me so tightly, that I can barely breathe. But her enthusiasm and show of love are contagious. I’m beaming by the time she pulls back and relinquishes me to our friends.

Piper, Astrid, Maxine, and Paisley—our fellow “Lunch Ladies” as we liked to call ourselves in high school—are more controlled, but no less enthusiastic with their greetings. We exchange hugs and exchanges of “You look amazing” and “No, you look amazing.”

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