Which Mistletoe?

Three: Saved by the Cocoa

Noah's POV

I picked up the boxes Mrs. Rodriguez dropped, steadying her 3-mph wheelchair before it could back into another display.

“I’m so sorry, dear. This thing gets out of control sometimes,” she said, hands trembling.

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “As long as you’re okay.”

She buzzed away, apologizing a final time. I was rearranging the shelf when Mrs. Reyes approached, handing me the last stray box.

“I thought you were helping Elara,” she said.

I hesitated. “I don’t think she needs my help.”

“Noah…” Her tone carried that motherly warning she used when I was a kid sneaking cookies. “Why are you avoiding her? You were excited when you heard she was coming home.”

Heat crawled up my neck. She wasn’t wrong. I had been excited. I missed Elara—more than I ever let myself admit. But seeing her again cracked something open inside me. All the feelings I thought I had buried neatly under adult responsibilities came rushing back like a fire hydrant we couldn’t shut off.

I thought I was over her.

Turns out, I wasn’t. Not even close.

Mrs. Reyes gave me a knowing smirk. “Fine. I won’t force you two together. I’ll let the holidays do that.”

She walked off with that mischievous smile that meant trouble.

I left the store for my shift at the station. The guys were already gathering when I arrived. I took a seat beside George—the one who inhaled all the leftover cookies last night.

“Okay, everyone,” Second-in-Command announced. “You know the drill. Annual Firehouse Toys and Gifts Caravan.”

The room perked up.

“Halo, Reyes’ shop is still okay as a drop-off point?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered.

“Good. George, go with him for weekly pick-ups. Posters arrive tomorrow. Make sure they’re all over town.”

~*~*~

The day passed quietly—just a few minor calls. As I cleaned up the bay, Chief leaned out of his office.

“Halo!”

“Sir?”

“You heading out?”

I nodded.

“Come in for a moment.”

I tapped George’s shoulder. He took over my paperwork as I followed Chief inside. The door shut with a soft click.

“I talked to someone at the City Fire Department,” Chief said. “You told me before you wanted a transfer. I sent your resume. Put in a good word.”

My stomach dropped. “Sir—”

“Expect a call any day.”

He meant it as good news. It was good news. A huge opportunity. Something I’d wanted… a long time ago.

So why did it feel like sand in my chest now?

Driving home, the weight of it blended with something else entirely. As I passed the Valdez house, I slowed. The windows glowed warm with Christmas lights, and through them, I saw her.

Elara laughing with her dad.

The house felt like home again—not because of the decorations, but because she was in it.

A horn blared behind me. I jerked and pulled over.

“What are you doing?” Elias called, climbing out of his car like a golden retriever in human form. “You coming in?”

Before I could answer, he was already dragging me from the truck.

“Dude! It’s been months. Mom made dinner. Come on.”

I didn’t have the strength to refuse. A minute later, I was at their front door.

“Noah’s here too!” Elias announced like he was presenting a trophy.

Two heads popped out from the kitchen—Mrs. Reyes and… her.

“Oh, perfect!” Mrs. Reyes said. “We were just setting the table.”

Elias and I followed them in.

“Can I help?” I asked, my eyes drifting to Elara. She looked away just as I looked at her.

“No, sit down,” Mrs. Reyes said. “Elara, get your dad.”

We settled at the table: Mr. Reyes at the head, his wife across him, Elias across me. And Elara—right beside me.

“I’m so happy you kids are here,” Mrs. Reyes said warmly. “Let’s pray.”

She took my hand. And then Elara took my other.

A jolt—electric, familiar, unwanted and wanted all at once—shot straight through me. I kept my head bowed, pretending to pray, but my eyes drifted to her.

She looked different. Older. Softer. Beautiful in a way that hurt.

“—Amen.”

I blinked back to reality.

“Okay, dig in,” Mr. Reyes said.

“You’re quiet, Noah,” Elias said around a mouthful of rice. “You okay?”

“Just thinking about work,” I said. “Annual toy drive starts tomorrow.”

Mrs. Reyes lit up. “Fun! I’ll prepare boxes for donations.”

“What’s that?” Elara asked, poking at a broccoli floret.

“It’s something we started five years ago,” I explained. “People donate toys, gifts… anything. On Christmas Eve we deliver everything—sort of a town tradition.”

Her expression softened. “Do you get enough toys? Like… enough for every kid?”

I shook my head. “Not always. Last year, only a few kids got the gifts they actually wanted.”

“Oh, my heart,” her mom said. “We tried to fill the gaps, but it wasn’t the same.”

“I’d like to help,” Elara said quietly. “Every kid should get something this year.”

Determination sparked in her eyes, the same look she always had right before she made something impossible happen. She hadn’t changed.

Not where it mattered.

Dinner went on, but I barely tasted anything. I kept hearing her voice:

“I’d like to help. Every kid should get something this year.”

It echoed in my head louder than the clatter of forks or Elias laughing at his own joke.

After we finished eating, Mr. Reyes pushed his chair back. “Who wants hot cocoa?”

Everyone did—except me. I stood, grabbing the plates before anyone could stop me.

“I’ll wash,” I said quickly.

Elara stood too. “I’ll help.”

My pulse kicked up. “No— it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I still want to help.”

We walked to the sink together, and for a second, it felt like we’d been dropped back seven years. Same kitchen. Same girl. Same awkward knot in my chest.

She handed me plates like she always used to—one hand holding the edge, the other steadying the bottom. I remembered teaching her that because she used to drop everything.

She remembered too. I could tell by her smile.

“So,” she said as she wiped down a pan. “The toy caravan. How exactly does it work?”

I kept my eyes on the suds. “We collect toys and gifts all month. Sort them the week before Christmas Eve. Deliver everything at the community center.”

“And you’re… running it?”

“Yeah.”

Then quieter: “I’ve been running it for the last three years.”

A beat.

“I want to help in a real way, Noah. Not just wrapping presents.”

I rinsed a plate, jaw clenched. “We have enough people. You don’t have to—”

“But I want to.” She stepped beside me, leaning on the counter, eyes searching mine. “Just tell me what you need.”

Tell her what I need?

I needed her not to look at me like that.

Not to make this harder.

Not to make me want to stay in this town when I had one foot out the door.

Instead, what came out was:

“What are you trying to do, Elara?”

She blinked. “Help?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Really.”

Her breath hitched, just slightly. “I… I guess I want to be part of something again. Something good. And not everything in my life feels that way right now.”

Silence settled between us—heavy, familiar.

Then she whispered, “And maybe I want to make things right. With the town. With people I hurt.”

Her voice faltered on that last part.

With me

I swallowed hard and turned away before she could see anything on my face.

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” I muttered.

“I owe you an apology,” she corrected softly.

My grip tightened around the dish towel.

Not now.

Not like this.

Before I could answer, Mrs. Reyes called from the living room, “Elara! Sweetie, come taste the cocoa!”

Saved by cocoa.

Fantastic.

She hesitated, eyes lingering on me. Then she turned and walked away, leaving the faint scent of winter perfume and the echo of words I wasn’t ready to hear.

When she was out of sight, I pressed my palms to the edge of the sink and breathed out slow.

Of course she would volunteer.

Of course she’d want to be involved.

Of course I’d be the one stuck in the middle of all of it.

I was halfway through drying the plates when Elias appeared behind me, nudging my shoulder.

“So,” he said casually, sipping his cocoa, “I heard El wants to help with the toy drive.”

I didn’t respond.

He smirked. “You’re screwed, man.”

“Shut up,” I muttered.

“No, seriously. Mom said she’s already thinking up ideas. Posters, fundraisers, wish lists, turning her new house into a sorting station—”

“She just moved in,” I said sharply.

“And you still likes her."

I didn’t answer.

He patted my back. “Good luck juggling those two problems.”

When they all walked me to the door later, Elara lingered behind the others. Snow dusted her hair and shoulders like she was part of the season itself.

“Noah?” she said quietly.

I turned, heart annoyingly aware of her.

“I meant it,” she said. “I want to help. I want to make this year special for everyone… for you too.”

And damn it, that was exactly the problem.

I nodded once—too stiff, too formal—but it was all I could manage.

“Okay,” I said. “Come by the station tomorrow. We’ll… figure something out.”

Her smile was small, hopeful.

“Goodnight, Noah.”

“Night, El.”

When I walked back to my truck, the transfer offer sat heavier than ever.

Leaving had been simple two days ago.

Now?

Not even close.