Arielle was supposed to go straight home.
A normal person—someone who hadn’t almost become roadkill—would go home, take a hot shower, and maybe cry into a pillow.
But Arielle?
Nope.
She was standing in the middle of the Maple Ridge Holiday Market, clutching her new peppermint tea like it was emotional support.
“What are we doing here?” she muttered as Noah walked ahead of her between the glowing stalls.
He didn’t turn around. “You need a distraction.”
“Yes, but why is my distraction a place full of glitter, fire hazards, and children with pointy candy canes?”
“Because those are not lethal.”
“A child stabbed me with a candy cane once.”
Noah stopped walking. Slowly turned.
“…How?”
“I don’t know, Noah! It was sharpened! Like a prison shiv!”
He stared at her for a solid five secon
