Which Mistletoe?

Two: Everything

We sat on one of the benches outside, the metal cool against my jeans. Noah settled beside me, seemingly immune to the cold in just a navy-blue shirt and work pants.

"So..." I started.

"How are you, El?" he asked, turning his body slightly toward me. It wasn’t an icebreaker. It was genuine care—simple, steady, and familiar.

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Starting a new chapter."

Vague.

Good job, Elara.

"How about you? You're… different now," I said, my eyes flicking to his arms. His biceps strained against the fabric. "Bigger," I joked.

Noah chuckled. He shifted forward to look across the street. "I’m okay too. Stayed here, went outside a couple of times."

Silence.

A little awkward, but somehow comforting.

"How long are you planning to stay?" he asked.

"Planning to stay for good, but I don’t know." I bowed my head and nudged at a leaf with the toe of my boot. "I guess the big city isn’t for me."

Isn’t for you, or are you running away?

I kicked my inner voice into a corner.

"Your parents’ shop needs a new employee," Noah said with a smile. His dimples—those same dimples I used to poke—appeared instantly. "Stacking shelves, cashiering, all that."

"Halo! We have a call!" someone shouted from inside the station.

Noah practically jumped to his feet. He looked down at me, torn for half a second.

"Don’t worry about me. Go," I said.

"Nice seeing you again, El. I guess I’ll see you around."

He ran off with a smile I felt in my chest longer than I should have.

---

My first morning back felt like… home. I didn’t know how else to explain it. My mom woke me with a soft knock, calling me for breakfast.

"There’s a lot to do with your new house, so you have to get up early."

Oh, right. The house I’d bought just a few miles from them. Dad said he’d given it a little fix—just needed paint and cleaning. That was going to be my first real project. My new home.

After breakfast and a long talk about everything I used to do in town, we headed there.

My jaw dropped the moment Dad parked. "Dad… what did you do?"

The whole house was painted—fresh, bright, perfect. The lawn trimmed, the pathway cleared, the porch swept. It looked lived in.

"There’s not much to do around here, so I just finished it all," he said, smiling with a mix of pride and embarrassment.

I hugged him so tightly he grunted, then kissed his cheek. "I love you so much, Dad! You’re the best. You too, Mom."

I ran inside like a child. The floors gleamed, the walls smelled of fresh paint—

The house was a single-story home with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, cozy but spacious enough. The kitchen was open and warm, sunlight pouring in through wide windows that made the whole place glow. Each room felt airy and inviting, touched with the promise of a new beginning.

"Now you’ll just need furniture and appliances," Dad said, scanning everything he'd accomplished.

"I know. But let me do it alone, okay? You guys did enough."

Mom nodded knowingly. "You might need a little distraction."

I smiled. My chest felt warm—bigger than it had in years. My holiday magic had apparently arrived early.

Dad let me borrow his truck before they left for the shop. I told them I’d help once I was settled in.

The first place I visited was the old furniture store—one that had been there since I was three. The same store where we bought my pink bed and Elias’s race car bed.

"Hey, how can I help?"

"I’m looking for a couch, a bed, a dining table and chairs… basically every piece of furniture."

The woman behind the counter beamed. "You’re going to rack up my commission. Come with me—I’ll take care of you."

She was patient and had a great eye. She didn’t push the expensive stuff—only what fit my taste. Soft colors, warm pieces, nothing too loud. I liked her immediately.

It took three hours to pick everything out. Necessary, but exhausting.

Then I headed to my parents’ shop for appliances.

The Christmas décor screamed my mom’s name—her colors, her style. Santas, elves, reindeer. Lights, ribbons, little sales signs in every corner.

A cute oven by the entrance caught my eye—discounted, shiny, perfect.

"Hi, how can I hel—"

"Noah?" He's wearing a santa hat, a red apron that matches the decor and a name tag.

"El."

"You work here?"

"Yeah. I part-time. Just helping, especially during the holidays."

My mouth fell open. He helped my parents? They’d known Noah since he wore diapers. My parents and I were there when his father died. My dad treated him like a son—taught him electrical work, shaving, dad stuff.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just… shocked you still kept in touch with my parents."

He looked at me like I had grown two heads. "Why wouldn’t I?"

My dad emerged from the storage room with boxes. Noah rushed over immediately to help.

"You’re abusing your back again, Mr. Reyes," he said.

"It’s not that heavy." Dad spotted me and nudged Noah. "She needs a lot of stuff."

Noah jogged back toward me. "Okay, what exactly do you need?"

"Everything."

He sighed. "Alright… let’s start with a TV."

"Okay. I don’t like too much screen."

"This one—40 inches. Perfect for your living room."

And then it hit me.

He had been in my house.

He helped my dad. Dad couldn’t have finished all that alone.

"You’ve been to my house," I said, not as a question—but a fact.

Noah didn’t answer.

"You knew I was coming."

Still nothing.

The intercom crackled: "Noah to aisle five. Noah to aisle five."

"I have to go," he said quietly. "I’ll have someone help you with… everything."

There was a tug in my chest—unexpected, sharp.

I didn’t know why I thought things would fall into place just because I came back.

I missed Noah.

I missed who we were.

But I didn’t know what to call this longing now—

or what it meant.