Page 63 of Mistletoe & Magic
Her chest rises and falls like she is finally letting herself exhale. “It still hurts. Sometimes it feels like it just happened yesterday.”
“I know,” I say. My voice feels rough. “I cannot take that pain away, but I can carry it with you. You don’t have to hold it alone anymore. You have us.”
Her eyes find mine, searching, and I make sure she sees all of it. That I am here. That I am not going anywhere.
She nods, just once, and I press my forehead to hers and breathe with her until we both feel steadier.
“Remy?” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for not running when I get like this.”
I give her a soft smile. “I’m not a runner.”
Her lips curve the slightest bit. “I know.”
“Good,” I say, and kiss her. Slow. Deep. Her fingers curl in my shirt, and I feel the last of the weight leave her shoulders.
I squeeze her hand. “I worry about losing people. About Junie…about you.” My voice goes low. “I can’t—” I shake my head. “I can’t go through that again.”
Her throat works as she swallows. “We both fear losing someone we love. We’re a mess.”
I nod and squeeze her hand a little and pull her in closer. I stop and pull her in toward me.
The snow swirls between us, quiet and soft, like the world is holding its breath. She looks at me like I’ve just handed her something fragile and holy.
“Remy,” she says, and my name sounds like a promise. Like a vow she has already made in her heart.
I look straight into her eyes, and it feels like the rest of the world falls away. “Yeah?”
Her breath comes quick and uneven, and I can see it between us, curling in the cool night air. “I’m falling in love with you,” she says.
For a moment, I just let the words wash over me, warmingevery part of me that used to feel frozen. My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my throat.
I step in closer, close enough to catch every flicker in her eyes. “I think I’ve been in love with you for so long,” I say, my voice low and certain.
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Then she lets out a startled laugh, tears bright in her eyes.
“You’re serious,” she whispers, like she wants to be sure.
I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “I have never been more serious about anything in my life.”
“So am I,” she says, her voice barely there. “I want to see where this goes with us.”
Something inside me unlocks, like I have been holding my breath for years and finally let it go.
The world is so quiet I can hear the distant jingle of the horses, the soft hush of snow landing on the trees. I reach up and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, slow, careful, like she might vanish if I rush.
She shivers, but I know it isn’t from the cold.
I cup her cheek and let my thumb brush her skin. “Then stay,” I whisper. “Stay with me. Let’s build something together.”
Her breath catches, and then she smiles, soft and full of something that feels like forever.
“Ivy.” My voice feels raw. “I want every day to be mistletoe and magic. I want everything with you.”
Her answer is a whisper that slams straight through me. “Me, too.”
