Page 70 of Christmas Comeback


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We’d both been eager to spend time together outside Marley and James’s house. As Will improved, their home felt claustrophobic. I’d spent the past few days blushing whenever I sat on the couch, remembering that kiss.

Besides getting some fresh air with Will, my other goal tonight was to film material forFashion Vibes.

I kept lifting my phone to hitrecord. Whatever this footage became, I knew it wouldn’t be my usual fashion-centric content.

It would probably be like Katy’s video, which had garnered more views and comments in three days than any other on my channel. Much as I’d suspected, people connected with her story, not just her relatability but also her optimism. Other than a few creepy comments from guys offering to pick up where her husband left off—Katy’s awesome response had been, “the Internet’s gonna Internet”—no one blinked an eye at the toneshift in my content, so it was clear shaking things up and following my instincts had been the right call.

I waved to old friends as I passed by, stopping to speak to a few and introduce Will. We slowly made our way toward Marley and James, working their shift at the high school booth.

As we walked, Will had me laughing with fun stories about his Christmases growing up. Apparently, his parents loved to celebrate but filled their home with breakable decorations. What he remembered most from being a young child was getting to pop the green bubble wrap his mom handed him as she unboxed the expensive baubles. He also recalled one of the Wallingford Capital office parties he’d attended in middle school, where he’d watched in shock as his straitlaced parents got tipsy and performed a karaoke rendition of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”

It really was too bad Will didn’t feel like he could be honest with his mom and dad about this latest concussion. Their family dynamic seemed to have evolved into him hiding large parts of himself from them while they mistrusted his decision-making out of habit. But clearly, there was love on both sides.

“You know,” he said, “it’s nice being able to talk about those memories.” He reached out his gloved hand and squeezed mine. “But I’m also glad to be here making new ones.” He waved his other arm around at the lights and ribbons decorating the streetlamps. “This is definitely a Christmas I’ll remember.”

“Hopefully for something other than falling on the ice.”

“Hopefully for more than that.” He laughed and held my hand tighter.

His second CT scan had been clear, the doctor okaying him to come to the carnival. He’d been moving around on his own with only a few very minor dizzy spells the past few days.

That meant Will needed to get back to reality soon. Reality being Seattle. Yesterday, we decided I would drive both of us back in his car since a long solo drive was a no-go for him so soonafter his fall. The plan was for me to come back with Leo and Miranda in time for Christmas.

I’d agreed to those logistics with a very specific motivation no one else knew yet. It was the reason I was fine leaving my car at Marley’s house and being in Seattle for the next ten days.

I wanted to talk to Bren and tie up loose ends in the city because I’d decided to move back to Coleman Creek. Permanently.

Will and I rolled up to the high school booth. It was the biggest, comprised of several tables in two large U-formations. Different games benefited various student clubs and the athletic boosters, along with baked goods and holiday craft sales to support the PTSA.

James sat behind the section for the school clubs. He’d talked my ear off over Thanksgiving about how much he loved being the faculty adviser for the gamer groups.

Marley stood admonishing one of the teens handling the nearby student council table. His badge saidSenior Class Vice Presidentin graffiti-like font.

“Fel, you need to redo it. You’re lucky I’m giving you another chance instead of just failing you outright.”

“Ah, c’mon, Ms. Davis. It’s an English class. We’re supposed to express ourselves. And I wasexpressingexactly how I feel about this time of year.”

Marley released an exasperated breath. “Fel, there are limits in my classroom. And one of them is you don’t put an expletive in the title of your essay. Not unless you want a big red F.”

“Alright, alright. What if I called it ‘The Boy Who Gave ZeroDucksAbout Christmas’?”

I cleared my throat as Marley’s eyes widened, and James intervened. “That’s enough, Fel.” He directed a meaningful look at the teen, fighting a smile himself. “Do better.”

The boy gave James a playful shrug before nodding.

As Will, James, and Marley chatted about which bake sale items looked the best, I strained to eavesdrop on the conversation at the student council table. That kid—Fel—sat with his friends, complaining about the carnival. They threw out words in derisive tones.Lame. Corny. Boring. Most stared at their phones, oblivious to the booth-goers.

They didn’t understand yet. But they would. Someday.

Behind another table, a blond-haired teen looked at the ground while playing Christmas songs on an acoustic guitar. Vaguely, I recalled him from the talent show the year prior.

Will and I stood and listened.

“That’s Daniel,” Marley whispered to us. “James says he sees a lot of himself in him.” She gave us a meaningful glance, which I interpreted to mean Daniel had been bullied. “This year has been much better, though.”

James paused whatever he’d been doing as an older couple arrived at the booth. “Mr. Bailey!”

The white-haired gentleman of the pair frowned at James’s effusive waving. “Now, now, Mr. Wymack. There’s no need to kick up a fuss.”