Page 68 of Cold Mercy

“Are you truly planning to spend this day by yourself, querida?

I nod, still smiling.

“Yes. You have to love your own company too, right?”

She doesn’t believe me for a second, but she nods anyway and heads out. The bracelet has put me in the best mood I’ve had in two years. It’s ridiculous.

My family was a disaster, but one thing my mother did perfectly was Christmas. Twelve dishes, a real Christmas tree, lights everywhere. A perfect photo, and of course a perfect lie. I liked them. Maybe because as a child, it was the only time in the year she pretended to love me.

And traditions stick, even the poisoned ones. I refuse to let her ruin this one for good. With a surge of defiance, I make the gingerbread dough and cut the shapes.

I play music and let myself sink into the rhythm. For once, I’m not thinking about Noah dying in my arms, about burying him, about the grief that swallowed me whole, or about the eventual truth that shattered everything. Today, he doesn’t get to take this day from me. This day is mine.

Suddenly, even over the music, I hear violent pounding on the door.

The sound isn't a knock, it's a hard, insistent pounding. I kill the music, my heart jumping into my throat. The house goes completely still for a beat, and that's when I hear his voice.

I unlock the door, and there he is, leaning against the frame, sweat dripping down his temples, chest heaving like he just escaped a burning building.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He steps inside immediately, scanning the room like he’s clearing a crime scene.

“What happened? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

I blink at him, still in my apron.

“…Uh? Nothing? I was…baking? How did you even get in here, and why are you here?”

“Mrs. Gonzalez called me,” he gasps, still half-bent over. “She said something was wrong and begged me to come. I live two miles away, and my car wouldn’t start, so I ran.”

He waves a hand vaguely behind him.

“Then your fortress of a gate. Don't ask me how I climbed that and then your driveway. Why is it so long? Anyway, I’m here.”

He says all of this in one breath, like a man who sprinted for his life. Did he really run here… on foot? Climbed my damn gate? I’m going to kill Mrs. Gonzalez.

Humiliation washes over me.

“Reed, I’m so sorry.” I grab my keys, completely forgetting about the apron. I don’t know why she did that. You definitely have better things to do on Christmas. I’ll drive you home.”

He looks genuinely offended.

“Seriously? Someone runs two miles for you, breaks into your property like a burglar, and you won’t even offer him a glass of water? You hate me that much?”

I wasn’t expecting him to want to stay.

“I don’t really celebrate Christmas anymore, haven’t for years. But if you’re kicking me out, I’ll walk back the other way,” he adds.

The word ‘no’ shoots out of my mouth instinctively.

“I mean-no, I’m not kicking you out. If you want to stay…” I awkwardly gesture toward the kitchen.

He takes a final, deep breath to steady himself, and then his hand gently closes over mine, his gaze dropping to the bracelet on my wrist.

“I see you liked the present.”

For a moment, I let him hold my hand. My brain turns to melted sugar, my chest feels warm, and my eyes soften on their own. Then I snap out of it, pull my hand back.