Page 37 of Holly and Ivar
At last, Al padded to his usual spot on the couch, but his watchful eyes stayed on Ivar.
“I know you were talking to Al,” Holly said from the doorway, “but is everything okay?Learning about the whole Santa and Yule Tree thing must be...a lot.I half expected you to ride off into the sunset, putting as much distance between us as possible.”
He gave a small chuckle.“Not that I wasn’t tempted, but no.I fell asleep.”
As he spoke, he absently ran a thumb along the windowsill where a small potted plant sat.The leaves seemed to lean toward his touch, unfurling slightly in the dim light.He blinked and rubbed his eyes.“Guess I’m still tired.”
He watched her wring her hands, her restlessness rolling off her in waves.She was wired, holding herself together through motion, and beneath it all, he could feel her worry for him.By all rights, he should’ve felt the same.Instead, clarity lingered from his nap.Maybe it was the forest.Maybe it was her.Or maybe it was the miracle of sleep.
The best way to ease her tension, her energy, he decided, was with something familiar.Something simple.Like dinner.
“Why don’t I make us something to eat?What time is it anyway?”
“Six thirty,” she said.
“Is that all?I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime today.”
He moved into the kitchen, filling Al’s bowl.The dog’s tail thumped in thanks.
Through the walls came the faint hoot of an owl, and the creak of snow-laden branches.Sounds that should have been muted by insulation and distance, yet they reached him as clearly as if his house had no walls.
He paused.“Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
He shook his head.“Nothing.Dinner it is, then.”
“Actually,” she said, “let’s go out.I need to burn off some energy.”
He’d rather stay home, but her nervous energy filled the small cabin.It should’ve been the other way around.Holly was the one used to magic, Yule veins, and flying brooms.But tonight, he was the calm one, and he’d go wherever she needed him to.
“What did you have in mind?”he asked.
“I’m not sure.This is your town.You tell me.”
He smiled.“We could fly your broom to Paris.”
“No way.Expecting me to watch you throw up for a third time in one day is asking a bit much, don’t you think?”
Their shared laughter softened the moment, and an understanding passed between them like a current.They were in this together.
And as the tension eased from her shoulders, something inside him settled too—like a missing piece falling into place.
21
quizmas eve
Holly
TheSugarhouseBreweryglowedlike a hearth against the snow.Warm amber lights gleamed through its tall windows, throwing gold across the frosted glass.Inside, the air was thick with laughter, roasted garlic, and the faint sweetness of maple sugar.
Holly shrugged off her coat and followed Ivar toward a booth in the corner.
He slid into one side.She took the other.
“No snowshoes.No maps.No brooms,” she said, resting her elbows on the table.“Feels almost like a normal evening.”
Ivar grinned.“Speak for yourself.”
