Page 79 of War on Christmas

“I sure was.”

She smiles then, a real, honest-to-goodness smile like I haven’t seen since Gary came into our lives. It’s bright and open and warm, and for the first time, I start to suspect that she’s going to be ok. Things will take time between us, but we’ll get there. And, of course, she’ll have a lot of work—and therapy—to do to address the trauma from Gary. But she’s strong and resilient. She really, truly is going to be all right.

My throat tightens, and I blink away an unexpected burning behind my eyes.Shit.Maybe it’s the sudden hope I feel for my mom. Maybe it’s the turn my relationship with Freya seems to finally be taking. Probably, it’s a combination of the two. Because after years of spending Christmas alone, I’m having a Christmas Eve filled with people who seem to, well…careabout me.

“She loves you,” Mom says as she looks up at me. “I know she hurt you, but she loves you so, so much, Jem.”

I clear my throat, trying to push down the emotions that are threatening to overwhelm me. Because Ifeelloved. I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. I don’t know how it’s going to end or what Freya is going to say or not say, but it doesn’t really matter. Because this impromptu campaign she’s staged says it all.

“I love her too,” I whisper. “A lot.”

Mom pats my cheek and blinks away some shining eyes of her own before pulling back.

“Well, Ulrik, you’re in luck. Because Roxy Noteleed—”

“Noteleaf,” I automatically correct, and she laughs.

“Yes,that. Roxy Noteleafleft a final clue for you.”

I let out a deep breath, relieved to hear that I’m nearing the end. As much as I’ve loved reminiscing about my decades of history with Freya, the answers I’m looking for aren’t in the past. The stories I heard tonight are the stepping stones that got us here, to this moment, but there’s no roll of the dice that can change any of it. The love we felt, the pain we caused, the time we lost…it’s all done. The future, though, is a game still left to be played, full of possibility. And I don’t want to wait a second longer to go after it.

Mom digs into her jeans pocket for an index card, but she doesn’t even glance at it as she recites, “Every journey must come to an end, but the end of one journey is, by necessity, the beginning of another. To find your bard and close out tonight’s journey—so that you might start another—you must return to the beginning.”

“The beginning?” I ask, already backing off the porch. “Back to the Galway Inn?”

At her nod, I bound up the porch to give her one last hug, then sprint for Thad’s car.

“To the Galway Inn, trusty steed!”

Forty-Nine

FREYA

Whydoeslovehaveto feel so much like a hangover?

It’s one of several questions I contemplate as I get ready in my room at the Galway Inn, my stomach tossing and tumbling every time I get a text update from Sam.

Sam: At the shop. He and your mom are hugging :-)

Sam: At the school. I see them all laughing.

Sam: OMG, Frey, he is SOOOO into this. You nailed it!

And finally…

Sam: Leaving his house now. Will be there in ten.

My hands shake as I bustle around the room, doing a final sweep to make sure everything looks perfect. Or as perfect as it can, given that I pulled this whole performance together in less than a day.

I lucked out, getting a room here due to a last-minute cancelation, and I’ve spent the past two hours setting the stage with props I borrowed from the Northview High School theater department. A bow and some arrows lean against the wall next to the fireplace, where a fire crackles merrily. Heavy golden candlesticks of various sizes trail across the room, holding LED candles that throw off a soft, golden glow. On a small table under the window, a large, aged-looking map is spread out, its corners pinned with a compass, an elaborate silver tankard, and several shining coins. A cloak drapes over the back of the wingback chair I dragged in front of the fireplace, giving the deceptive impression of being casually tossed, even though I spent a solid ten minutes making sure the folds were just so.

It's a scene straight out of our middle-school imaginations, a Caves & Conquerors fantasy come to life.

When the knock comes at the door, I jump, like my nerves are a lute string he just plucked. Jeremy and I have seen each other every single day over the past two weeks, but never like this. Never without the games or the walls or that stupid countdown looming over us. I take a deep breath to settle the swimming sensation in my stomach and square my shoulders as I swing open the door.

Real talk: I didn’t think I’d ever be in this position, standing here with my heart in my hands, asking someone else to accept it.

And I definitely didn’t think I’d be doing it dressed as an elf.

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