Page 102 of Light My Fire Three Times
Her shoulders finally seem to relax, just a little, and I know she’s hearing me. But there’s still so much she’s holding in.
I don’t want to just talk about this. I want to show her she’s not alone in all this. She needs something good right now, to pull her out of this hole, even if it’s for just a little while.
I glance over at Ivy, who’s been sitting quietly but watching us both, and I have an idea. It’s small, simple, but it feels right.
“Come on, both of you,” I say, lighter than before. “Get your coats. We’re going to the Christmas market.”
I see a flicker of confusion in Olivia’s eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by softness. Maybe curiosity, maybe the first stirrings of hope.
“You need some damn Christmas snacks—hot chocolate, roasted chestnuts, maybe some gingerbread cookies. You’ve been dealing with too much heavy shit. It’s time for something light, okay?”
Ivy lets out a laugh, a sound that’s been too rare today. “You know, I’m not going to argue with that. There’s always room for gingerbread.”
Olivia looks between us, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips, but she doesn’t argue. And that’s all the permission I need.
The Christmas market is alive with lights, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of cinnamon and clove.
It's basically stepping into a snow globe. Twinkling lights drape over wooden stalls, with lights dancing over the crafts and handmade items for sale.
Snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, settling on the bustling crowd, while the distant sound of carolers fills the air with festive cheer. A perfect little world where the chaos of everyday life fades away, if only for a few hours.
The stalls are a patchwork of colorful, hand-painted wood, each one brimming with unique, artisan creations.
There’s a booth laden with intricately woven scarves, each one soft and warm, their colors a mix of deep reds, emerald greens, and snowy whites.
Nearby, a stall displays delicate glass ornaments, each one shimmering in the glow of the fairy lights. Some are shaped like snowflakes, others like tiny sleighs, and a few are even hand-blown to resemble miniature Christmas trees.
The air is filled with the sound of soft chatter and the rhythmic clink of coins as people make their purchases, their voices a blend of excitement and contentment.
A cart offers freshly roasted chestnuts, the scent of them mingling with the sweetness of caramelized sugar from the candied apple stand across the way. The warm, toasty smell of baked gingerbread drifts from a nearby bakery stall, tempting passersby to take a bite.
At the end of the market, a group of children laughs as they chase each other through a small patch of fake snow, their faces bright with joy.
A horse-drawn carriage waits by the far corner, its bells jingling softly as families take turns riding through the twinkling streets, the horses’ breath misting in the frosty air.
Ivy’s the first to grab a hot chocolate, and she hands one to Olivia before she can even protest. “You willlovethis. And it’s only a little bit spiked.”
I stick with something more substantial: spiced cider. I need it to warm my bones, and besides, I’m already anticipating a long night of stewing over the Stokes mess. A little fun now won’t hurt.
The Christmas lights twinkle around us as we walk through the market, the soft buzz of conversation mixing with the hum of carolers singing in the distance.
There’s a small ice rink where kids are skating, the little ones wobbling and laughing as they try to find their balance.
I catch Olivia’s eye as she watches them, and for a second, I see her smile. It’s faint, but it’s there. A real one. A smile that says she's not thinking about Stokes for a moment.
“Think you could handle those skates?” I ask, nudging her with my elbow.
Olivia rolls her eyes, but there’s a playfulness behind it. “I’m more of a 'keep my feet on solid ground' kind of person.”
I smirk. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
“You think I’m scared?” she teases, but there’s a glint of challenge in her eyes.
“I don’t know. Maybe you are, Liv,” I tease back, and the corners of her lips twitch as if she’s holding back a laugh. “Maybe you just know you won’t be as good as me.”
Ivy joins in, grinning. “Come on, Olivia. It’s just skating. If Leo can do it, so can you.”
I raise an eyebrow, cocky as hell. “I’m a natural.”
