One year later.
It still felt strange how quickly life had settled after everything we survived in the past year. The chaos, the fear, the nights that felt endless—all of it now lived quietly in the background, like a scar you only notice when the weather changes. Just yesterday it felt like New Year's Day, like we were still counting losses and learning how to breathe again, and now it was already Christmas.
Cara had bounced back faster than either of us. Maybe faster wasn't the right word—she never really broke. She carried the aftermath of it all with the same stubborn light she always had.
Which is how James and I found ourselves standing in a Christmas tree lot.
Cara had forced James to go tree hunting, insisting it was tradition that every home needed a Christmas tree. James, however, still hated celebrations for reasons he never fully explained. Yet, as always, he couldn't resist Cara's relentless nagging and her puppy-dog eyes. Somehow, despite everything, we had become something steady.
A family.
Ah, the three musketeers.
As we moved deeper into the rows of trees, I followed behind James and Cara, letting their laughter guide me. Still, a strange unease crept over me. Every now and then, I felt it—that unmistakable prickle at the back of my neck, like eyes lingering on my skin.
I slowed, glancing between the trees, half-expecting to see someone step out from the shadows. Nothing. Just rows of pine and the crunch of snow beneath boots.
I told myself I was imagining things. That peace had made me paranoid. But the feeling returned every time I lagged behind, like something was watching, waiting.
James called my name, and I forced a smile, quickening my pace to rejoin them.
I still couldn't believe she was seventeen—old enough to stand on the edge of adulthood, yet still holding onto a childlike wonder, finding joy in the smallest things.
"No, that's too small!" Cara says, pulling James in different directions with excitement shining in her eyes.
"A tree is a tree, Cara," James growls in frustration, folding his arms and giving her a disapproving look.
I couldn't help but laugh at the picture before me. James the Brave, defeated—not by danger, not by fear—but by a child. He had a weakness when it came to kids.
"Alex, please tell Cara that it doesn't matter which tree we get," James demands, his voice almost pleading.
"The bigger the tree, the bigger the gifts," I say with a shrug, following Cara deeper into the rows of pine.
Cara gasps suddenly and lets go of James's hand, running toward a towering tree that nearly brushes the sky. She stops short beneath it, tilting her head thoughtfully.
"It's big," she says, more measured than before. "But not just big for the sake of it. It feels… right. Like it's been through storms and still stayed standing." "This one!" she announces proudly. "This is the one."
James stares up at it, then at me, then back at the tree. "That thing won't even fit in the living room."
"It will if you believe," Cara says seriously, placing her hands on her hips.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. "She's got a point."
James exhales deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're both impossible."
Still, minutes later, he's the one negotiating with the vendor, insisting the tree be trimmed just enough to fit through the door.
Cara immediately starts running circles around the tree she picked, tapping James on the side every time she passes him, her laughter ringing through the lot. It takes him a second to catch on before he lunges for her, mock-annoyed, and soon he's chasing her around the tree.
I consider joining in on the fun but turn toward the truck instead, shaking my head with a smile. Before I can even open the door, James breaks off and sprints toward me.
"You better run, Lexi!" he shouts, an amused grin spread across his face.
A satisfied giggle escapes me as I take off, the sound blending with Cara's laughter behind us.
She suddenly stops and does a little joyous dance right there in the snow, so full of excitement that neither of us can help ourselves. The next thing I know, we're all laughing and pulled into a hug—awkward with winter jackets and cold hands, but warm in all the ways that mattered.
""There's something I've been wanting to do since the day I met you," James says quietly, a glint in his eyes as he stays right where he is, still holding me.
The world seems to narrow, the laughter fading, the tree lot suddenly too quiet. That uneasy feeling returns—stronger this time—as if the shadows themselves are holding their breath.
"And that is?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, his thumb brushes gently along my jaw, grounding me, pulling me back into him. My heart pounds, torn between anticipation and the lingering sense that we aren't as alone as we should be.
Then he leans in.
One hand cups my face, the other holds me close, and every thought scatters as his lips meet mine.
He actually kisses me.
"Ew—oh my gosh, seriously?!" Cara's voice cuts through the moment like a whip.
I jerk back instantly, heat rushing to my face. Cara stands a few steps away, hands over her eyes but peeking through her fingers, her nose scrunched in exaggerated disgust.
"Do you two have to do that in public?" she groans dramatically. "At a tree lot? With pine needles everywhere? I'm traumatized."
James lets out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You weren't supposed to see that."
She drops her hands and raises an eyebrow, smirking now. "Oh, I saw it. Unfortunately."
Despite the theatrics, there's something knowing in her eyes—amusement mixed with understanding—before she shakes her head and mutters, "I'm definitely telling everyone you kissed like that before we even got the tree." Cara clings to his jacket the entire time, chatting about ornaments, lights, and the star she plans to put on top.
As we walk back to the car with the tree tied securely on the roof, snow beginning to fall softly around us, something warm settles in my chest. For the first time in a long while, the world feels quiet. Safe.
James catches me watching him and raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing," I say, smiling. "Just thinking that last year feels like a lifetime ago."
His expression softens, just for a second. "Yeah," he says quietly. "But I wouldn't change this one for anything."
Cara wedges herself between us, grabbing both our hands. "Christmas is the best," she declares.
And for once, I agree.