Eggnog & Evergreen

48 • 'Tis the Season

I jump from the couch with my stocking in hand, careful to keep Nik's wish tucked out of sight from my mother's curious gaze.

"Where are you rushing to, hun?" My mom asks, confused, as I dash down the hallway to my bedroom.

I'm already peeling my leggings off and slipping on jeans. I wrap a cream scarf around my neck several times and start lacing up my snow boots in the foyer.

"Noelle?" My mother says, appearing at my side. "Where are you going? It's Christmas!"

I tuck my phone into my coat pocket and grab my dad's keys from the snowflake dish on the table beside the door.

"Gotta run out. Won't be long!" I say, kissing her on the cheek.

I pull open the door with one hand, my other still clutching onto the woodsy stocking like it's some kind of lifeline. The air temp is 17 degrees but feels like a frosty -5. Even so, I'm warm.

Somehow, like it always does when your bones are alive with anticipation, the ride there takes forever. There's hardly traffic on the roads, since it is Christmas morning, and it seems no one else is on a mission like I am. However, what the roads lack in cars, it makes up for in ice and snow and every other wintry weather combo you can imagine.

After one last bend, I finally see the tattered Trodder's sign, a snow-covered beacon. I drive my dad's truck all the way around the lot to the end of the first lane of trees. The trees are uncut here and swallowed by weeks of snow. It reminds me of Evergreen Alley. Of PB. Of Nik.

I turn the keys in the ignition, slide from the driver's seat, and watch my feet disappear beneath a foot of snow.

The path is short, but my feet are not quick. I struggle in the snow as I make my way down the familiar lane to the spot where I know the cozy cabin is nestled in the woods. Sure enough, it comes into view –what's visibly left of its roof anyway.

The wreath on the door glows yellow and I recognize it as one we made together that day with Kit. Trotter is walking aimlessly in the paddock.

A million thoughts chase each other around in my head.

What if Nik's not home?

But where would Nik be?

What am I going to say?

Maybe it was just a prank stocking.

Hell, it's hard to walk in the snow!

I jump up the steps almost all at once, though it's more like one giant ice ramp now. It's all different from the last time I was here –the time I never thought I'd find myself back on this front deck. I can't even see the tin bucket of pinecones I know is next to the door, now buried by snow.

I rap passionately at the door. My mittened fist collides with the weathered wood three times before I hear footsteps on the other side.

The door swings open and my palm, poised for another strike against the door, collides with Nik's chest instead.

"Noe?" He almost sounds surprised.

I step inside without waiting for the invitation, my hand still pressed against his undershirt.

"Merry Christmas," he says, bemused.

"Yes," I exhale, clutching at the stitch in my side. I regret running through the snow.

He looks at me with mild concern and interest, his eyebrow furrowed at the stocking in my hand.

"You got it," Nik mumbles through a smile.

"I did." I nod. "It's–"

"Too much? Too cheesy? I knew it." He sighs, embarrassed.

"Perfect." I finish at the same time. "It's exactly what I needed."

I hope he understands what I'm implying. That he, Nik, is exactly what I need. Not Preston. Not my plans in New York. Not my whole life planned out in fine-print detail.

Nik's hand drops from my waist as he walks further into his cabin. I follow him around the couch to the cozy rug in front of the fire –the very rug we fell asleep on all those nights ago.

"What is it?" I ask, urging him to share what he's holding back.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you since the day we met." Nik's hoarse voice feels simultaneously smothering and a million miles away. I can hear the longing in his words.

I slide my arms beneath his unbuttoned flannel shirt and link my fingers together around his waist. I nuzzle my face into his chest.

"Me either," I admit, my voice slightly muffled by his white T-shirt. It feels validated said aloud.

"And then he showed up and I thought–"

"I know," I interject quietly. I pull away, looking into his deep eyes glowing orange in the fire. "But it's sort of great that he did show up."

"How do you mean?" Nik asks, perplexed.

"Seeing him again, after thinking about how much I pined over him –how much I missed him. I guess it made me realize I didn't." I smile.

"Oh." Nik's relief is written all over his face.

"And then I found this this morning and it sort of set everything in place. If that make sense," I mumble, blushing.

"It does," Nik says, nodding. "But what about New York? What about your five-year plan?" Nik asks, peering down at me.

"Woah. Relax, Nik. I was thinking maybe we could go on a date for New Year's." I tease.

"I think I can settle for that," he smiles.

My hands are wrapped around his neck, running through his loose curls. Nik sweeps me off my feet and kisses me, deep. Every bit of heartache and doubt that's been seething since I lost Hawaii seems to evaporate into nothing.

"I almost forgot!" I exclaim, breaking apart from our kiss.

I pick up the stocking from the back of the couch and hang it from a decorative branch on the mantle.

"And since I never did my stocking wish..." I trail off, pulling a scrap of paper from the depths. I use the pencil on the end table to scrawl You on the opposite side of the paper.

"You stole mine." Nik laughs, his eyes creasing. I feel his hands close around my waist again.

"There," I say, stepping back to admire the hanging stocking.

"Hmm. It looks lonely." Nik points out.

"We can share." I shrug.

"That's kind of you." Nik kisses my cheek.

"Yea, well. 'Tis the season."

Nik twists and twirls me as we waltz to Christmas carols in front of the fire, with hot spiced cider and warm spirits in tow, and fresh snowflakes frosting the cabin windows.

I breathe in Nik's cedar scent and relish the fire's warmth on my skin.

Yes.

Who needs Oahu?

THE MERRY END.