Page 33 of Holly and Ivar
The snow swirled once more, then drifted down in silence.The image softened but didn’t fade; it lingered—quiet, steady, and achingly real.
When he finally found his voice again, it came out as barely more than a whisper.“What does this mean?”
Her eyes shone, reflecting the gold around them.“I was hoping you could tell me.You were the one meant to find it.”
He swallowed hard, the truth of it settling deep.“Wewere.”
The tree from his childhood wasn’t a dream.It was real, and it had chosen now to reveal itself.
He didn’t understand why, and maybe he didn’t need to.All that mattered was Holly’s hand in his and the certainty in his heart that he was exactly where he was meant to be.
Holly leaned her head against his shoulder.He squeezed her hand gently, getting a squeeze back, the echo of the warmth still thrumming beneath their palms.
Neither of them spoke.Neither of them had to.Something had changed, as profound as the roots beneath their feet and as vast as the sky above.He didn’t yet know what it was, but he welcomed it with open arms.
17
brewed awakenings
Holly
Theysatneartheback of the Maple Mug, close together in the corner booth, two conspirators hiding from the world.Neither had spoken much.The forest had felt too sacred to disturb, and by the time they had reached the truck via broom travel, Ivar had doubled over again, hands on his knees, breathing hard before losing his lunch into the snow.
Now, inside the cafe, he remained pale but steadier.
“Again, I’m sorry about the motion sickness,” Holly said quietly.
“I guess you get used to it,” he managed, attempting a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.The tremor beneath his words wasn’t only from nausea.
Emma arrived with their lattes, cheerful as ever.“Here you go.You two look like you could use some warming up.Sure you don’t want a seat by the fire?”
“We’re fine, thank you,” Holly replied, forcing a polite smile.She would have preferred privacy—her room at the inn, his cabin—but Ivar had insisted on somewherenormal, surrounded by chatter and clinking cups.She understood.He needed reality to anchor him.
Emma glanced between them.“Are you okay, Ivar?”
“Fine,” he said quickly.“Just something I ate.”
“I hope not from here.”
“No, of course not.Some questionable leftovers.”
Emma didn’t seem convinced, but she moved away all the same.
Holly took a sip of her latte to steady herself.What had happened between them today had shaken her, though not as much as it had shaken poor Ivar, and she wanted to reassure him.
“It’s true, isn’t it?”Ivar said finally, voice low.“The things I read about your family.”
“I’m not sure what you read,” she said, keeping her voice gentle, “but I’ll tell you the truth.About me.About my family.”Hours before, she’d onlywantedto tell him.And now, here they were.She didn’t need to ask him to guard her secret.He already understood.Somehow, she knew he always would.
Reaching across the table before she could second-guess herself , she wrapped her fingers around his.The moment their hands met, the faint echo of the Yule Tree pulsed beneath their skin.Ivar’s eyes flicked up to hers, startled, but he didn’t pull away.
“Everything I’ve told you is true-ish.My name is Holly Kringle, and yes, my family manufactures toys for Christmas.”Shetook a deep breath.“We also deliver them on Christmas Eve because we’re Santas.”
He blinked.“Santas?Plural?”
“The world’s too big for one Santa, so my family spreads the work around.My father and aunt oversee the global operation; the rest of us manage regions.I’m the Santa of the Northeast.”
She paused, watching him absorb the words.
