Page 88 of Mistletoe

“Do you have it handled, or should I leave a deputy?” Nina asked.

“We’ll manage between us.” Even if it meant they were in for a long, long night.

Hal

“Here.” Hal draped the wool blanket over Emma’s shoulders.

“Thank you.” She ran her fingers over the fabric. “I don’t recognize this one.”

Hal ran a hand up the back of his neck. “I, uh, I made it. For you.”

“You made this?” She inspected the weave closely. Hal wanted to curl up into a ball of concentrated mortification.

He saw every flaw. The way the stripes had a wave because he did not press the reed evenly to ensure that the yarn lay snugly in place. The weave was loose. The pattern of the stripes was nonexistent, just random strips of color based on what material he could find.

“Your mother taught me how to use the loom,” he said. “It is amateur work. Please, give it back, and let me make you another.”

Her hand twisted its hold on the blanket. “Not a chance. This is mine. I love it.”

“Is that the only thing?”

She grinned and stepped closer. “I love you.”

Her words were a balm, soothing every hurt and offering comfort.

“I love you,” he repeated. “You were going to take on an army for me.”

“A small company at most. Easy-peasy,” she said in a teasing tone. Her smile faltered. “I was so scared that man would take you away. I was scared of losing you, but all I could think about was how they’d hurt you, and that scared me more.”

As far as Hal knew, no one had ever cared about the pain and trauma he suffered. Only Emma.

“The nerve of that man, acting like you were a dog he could put a collar on. I hope something truly awful happens to him. I hope he understands what it’s like to have your personhood taken away,” she said with venom. “And I’m so mad at Felix. I know he was under orders, but I’m angry.”

“You will make peace with your brother.”

“Like you made with yours?”

“That is a very pointed question. Their offenses are not the same,” Hal said. One was a soldier sworn to obey their superior officers. The other was a literal monster who imprisoned and experimented on Hal for centuries.

“I’m too tired for you to be this reasonable. Let me be angry for a bit. We’ll bury the hatchet eventually.”

Hal saw the remorse on Felix’s face. He felt confident the siblings would mend their rift. As for his rift with his own brother, he wasn’t ready to forgive. Not yet. Forgiveness did feel possible now, though, which was its own sort of progress.

The sky was a pearlescent gray and growing brighter. Dawn was near.

Hal put an arm over Emma’s shoulder, drawing her closer. She leaned against him, the blanket still wrapped around her.

“I love this place, but it is just a place. If we have to leave to keep you safe, fine. You’re my home,” she said. “What do you want to do, Hal?”

For the first time, he knew the answer.

“I want to be at your side,” he said. “Wherever that is. Whatever you do. If you stay here and raise goats and chickens, I’m staying here. We can grow vegetables and make cheese. We can live in town. Or the city.”

“You’d hate the city.”

“Probably. If you want to go west, we’ll go west. If you want to see what’s over those mountains, we’ll discover what this world has to offer. What I want is to be by your side until the last breath leaves my body.”

“That could be a very long time.”

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