MORE THAN MISTLETOE

Chapter 1: Maya's POV The highway stretched ahead like a ribbon of possibility, gray asphalt cutting through snow-dusted fields that seemed to go on forever. Maya pressed her forehead against the cold window of her mom's SUV, watching her breath fog the glass in small, temporary clouds. "You're quiet," her brother Alex said from the driver's seat, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. "That's never a good sign." Maya stuck her tongue out at him, which only proved his point. At twenty-two, she should probably be above such gestures, but Alex had a way of bringing out the kid in her. Maybe it was the whole older-brother thing, or maybe it was just them—the way they'd learned to communicate in the spaces between their parents' arguments, in the silence after their dad announced he was leaving. "Leave your sister alone," their mom, Diana, said from the passenger seat, though her smile was visible even from the back . "She's probably just excited. I know I am." Excited didn't quite cover it. Maya had been looking forward to this trip for months, ever since Carol had called in September to extend the invitation. Two families, one house, three weeks of holiday chaos—it was tradition, had been for the past ten years. But this year felt different somehow. Maya couldn't quite put her finger on why. "How long has it been since we've seen them?" Alex asked, taking the exit that would lead them through the small town where Ethan's family lived. "Six months?" "Eight," Maya corrected automatically, then wished she hadn't when Alex's eyebrows rose in the mirror. "Eight months, huh? You've been counting?" "Shut up." Maya pulled out her phone, pretending to be absorbed in something incredibly important on her screen. In reality, she was looking at nothing, just trying to avoid her brother's knowing gaze. Eight months since Easter, when they'd all gotten together for a long weekend. Eight months since she'd seen Ethan, heard his quiet laugh, sat next to him at the dinner table and felt... what? Comfortable? Safe? Like she was home? That was the thing about Ethan. He'd always felt like home. "I wonder if Liam's still in his punk rock phase," Diana mused, looking out at the familiar streets as they entered town. The shops were decorated for Christmas, lights strung across the main street in swooping arcs of gold and white. "Last time we saw him, he had that terrible haircut." "Mom, it was a mohawk. And he's twenty now, I think he's allowed to make his own terrible hair decisions," Alex said. Maya smiled, remembering Liam's mohawk. Ethan had been mortified, which only made Liam more committed to keeping it. The two brothers couldn't be more different—Liam was loud where Ethan was quiet, impulsive where Ethan was careful, open where Ethan was... Well. Ethan had always been hard to read. The thought made something flutter in Maya's chest, a feeling she'd been trying to ignore for the better part of a year now. Maybe longer. Her phone buzzed with a text from her best friend, Jess:Have fun with your family friends! Don't do anything I wouldn't do Maya rolled her eyes and typed back: It's just a family holiday. Very wholesome. Very boring. Sure. That's why you've been talking about this trip for three months straight. Maya didn't reply. She wasn't ready to examine why she'd been so excited, why she'd packed and repacked her suitcase four times, why she'd spent an embarrassing amount of time yesterday deciding what to wear for the drive. It was just Ethan. Just his family. Just the holidays. Just the first time she'd see him since she'd realized—somewhere between Easter and now—that maybe she didn't think of him quite as much like a brother as she used to. . "Almost there," Diana announced, and Maya's stomach did a small flip. The last time she'd made this drive, she'd been fresh off her breakup with Jake. That had been two years ago, the Christmas she was twenty, and she'd cried most of the way there. Ethan had found her that first night, sitting on the back porch in the cold, and he'd just... sat with her. Didn't try to fix it, didn't offer platitudes. Just wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and stayed until she was ready to talk. When she finally did talk, he'd listened. Really listened, in that way Ethan had of making you feel like you were the only person in the world. And when she'd asked him if she was being stupid for being so upset over a college boyfriend, he'd said: "You're not stupid for feeling things, Maya. You're brave." She'd never forgotten that. "There it is," Alex said, and Maya's heart kicked into a higher gear. The house appeared around the bend—a two-story colonial with dark green shutters and a wraparound porch that was currently strung with white Christmas lights. Smoke curled from the chimney, and through the front windows, Maya could see the glow of what was probably a fire in the fireplace. There were two figures on the porch, and even from a distance, even after eight months, Maya knew which one was Ethan. He was taller than his younger brother, though not by much anymore. Where Liam was all energy and movement, Ethan stood still, hands in his pockets. Even from here, Maya couldn't tell if he was smiling. She'd have to get closer to know. She'd have to see his eyes. "I can't wait to see Carol," Diana said, already unbuckling her seatbelt before Alex had fully stopped the car. "It's been too long." Maya took a breath, steadying herself. This was ridiculous. It was just Ethan. Her brother's best friend. The guy who'd taught her how to fish when she was twelve and terrible at it. The guy who'd given her advice about Jake, who'd helped her study for her SATs, who'd been there for every major moment of her life since she was thirteen years old. Just Ethan. The car doors opened, and suddenly they were all piling out, and there was Carol rushing down the porch steps with her arms open wide, and Liam was whooping like they'd won the lottery, and Diana was laughing, and Alex was doing that complicated handshake-hug thing with Liam that they'd invented years ago. And through it all, Maya's eyes found Ethan. He was coming down the steps more slowly, and when their eyes met, Maya felt something shift in her chest. She couldn't read his expression—she'd never been able to read him as well as she wanted to—but there was something in the way he looked at her that made her breath catch. Or maybe she was imagining it. Maybe this was all in her head. "Maya," he said when he reached her, and his voice was exactly as she remembered—low and warm and careful. "Hi," she managed, and then they were hugging. It should have felt the same as it always did, comfortable and familiar and safe. And it did, mostly. Except for the way her heart was racing, and the way she noticed how he smelled like pine and something warmer, like cinnamon maybe, and the way she didn't want to let go even though she knew she had to. When they pulled apart, Ethan's hands lingered on her shoulders for just a moment before he stepped away. She searched his face, trying to understand what she was feeling, what he might be feeling, but his expression gave nothing away. "How was the drive?" he asked, and there was nothing in his tone but polite interest. Normal. Brotherly, even. Maya told herself she wasn't disappointed. "Long. Alex's music taste hasn't improved." "Hey, I heard that," Alex called from where he was helping unload the car. Ethan smiled—there it was, that smile she'd been waiting for—and Maya felt something in her chest relax and tighten all at once. "Come on," he said, gesturing toward the house. "Mom made her famous hot chocolate. The kind with the—" "—with the cinnamon and the real whipped cream," Maya finished, grateful for the familiar ground. "Exactly," Ethan said, and for a moment their eyes met again. Maya tried to read something in his gaze—recognition, maybe, or awareness of this strange new energy between them. But then Liam was calling Ethan to help with the luggage, and the moment broke. As they all moved toward the house, surrounded by their families and their noise and their love, Maya made herself a promise: she would figure out what this feeling was. This new, terrifying, wonderful feeling that had bloomed somewhere between eight months ago and right now. She would figure out if Ethan felt it too, or if she was completely alone in this. But first, she would drink hot chocolate with cinnamon and real whipped cream, and she would let herself be home. Even if home suddenly felt a lot more complicated than it used to.