Which Mistletoe?

Seven: They're Perfect

Noah’s POV

Morning rolled out perfectly. My toast was golden, the air was cold enough to bite but not annoy, and everything just felt… right. And no, it wasn’t because I stayed up late with Elara laughing and joking like before.

Definitely not.

Probably not.

“Halo, you’re glowing. Did you hit some last night?” George shouted from the mezzanine.

“Good morning to you too,” I muttered, trying not to grin.

After the morning briefing, I asked permission to swing by Double E’s to check the donation boxes. I told myself that was the only reason. That was the excuse. The truth was obvious even to me.

When I pushed the glass door open, Elara was at one of the counters, finishing a sale. She looked up the moment the chime rang.

“Good morning,” I greeted.

“Good morning,” she replied, her smile bright enough to punch the air out of my lungs. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking the donations. If the boxes are full, I’ll take them to the station.”

“There are two ready.” She waved someone over to replace her. “The third box is almost full too.”

I followed her into the storage area.

“Good,” I said. “After we complete all the gifts, we’ll start wrapping. Maybe we can do the holiday event early this year.”

Her eyes lit up. “We can! The donations are piling up. We can actually afford to feed at least five hundred people.”

She looked radiant.

Genuinely happy.

And somehow, I felt lighter just seeing her like that.

She showed me the boxes, and I borrowed a cart from Mr. Reyes. She walked beside me, rattling off more ideas, and I found myself agreeing to every single one of them.

Before I could drive away, Elara stepped in front of my truck and slapped her palms on the hood.

“Hey! You promised to help me put up Christmas lights!”

“I know,” I chuckled.

“Just checking if you remembered.”

I reached out and pinched her nose gently. “I’m leaving.”

She stuck her tongue out at me as I rolled away. I caught her in the rear-view mirror—arms crossed, grinning—and like an i***t I smiled the whole ride back.

Yeah. My morning was perfect.

*~*~*~*

We were having lunch at the diner when an expensive sedan rolled into the parking lot. The kind of sedan that didn’t belong in a town like ours.

My team collectively whistled.

“Damn,” someone muttered. “That costs more than my entire salary.”

“Jesus, who is that?”

I took a sip of my juice, not thinking anything of it—until the guy stepped out.

He looked more expensive than the car.

Black turtleneck.

Tailored slacks.

Long coat that caught the wind dramatically, like he hired special effects to follow him around.

“I’d look like that if I wasn’t tired all the time,” George joked.

“Yeah, sure,” another laughed.

I didn’t laugh.

I couldn’t.

My breath clogged somewhere between my throat and lungs.

Andrei.

My vision tilted, the sound around me dimming until it was just him walking toward the diner.

Why the hell was he here?

Did Elara call him?

Did they get back together?

Was that why she was glowing so much this morning?

My chest tightened painfully, like someone had wrapped a fist around my ribcage and squeezed.

“Looks like you’ve seen a ghost, Halo.”

“I’m fine,” I whispered, though it was anything but.

I watched him order coffee. The waitress flirted like he invented oxygen. Then he asked her if there was a hotel nearby. She gave directions with heart eyes. He thanked her and sat in the booth across from us.

His gaze drifted to me.

Held.

Maybe he knew who I was.

Maybe I’d been glaring without realizing.

Or maybe fate just hated me.

His coffee arrived. Mine turned to acid. I stood abruptly.

“Where are you going?” George called.

I ignored them all and walked out.

Outside, the cold wind slapped me in the face—but wasn’t enough to numb the ache.

By the time I got home, my brain wouldn’t shut up. So I did the only thing I knew to drown it out: I worked out until my body begged for mercy.

I ripped off my shirt and did a hundred pull-ups.

Then a hundred push-ups.

Then a hundred curls.

Then I ran ten kilometers until my lungs screamed.

And it still didn’t work.

Because the entire time, one thought kept clawing through the noise:

They look perfect together.

Her beauty, his… everything.

She’s smart, he’s smart.

She’s driven, he’s successful.

She’s her.

He’s him.

And me?

I’m just… me.

“You can’t be self-pitying right now,” I muttered at my reflection in the gym mirror.

Sweat dripped onto the floor in steady drops. My muscles trembled. My heartbeat thudded loudly—angry, frustrated, terrified.

I knew this feeling.

God, did I know it.

It felt like losing her all over again.

“Halo, you’re pushing your limits again.”

I turned. Ian walked in, wearing his workout clothes and a knowing expression.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“The girl,” he said simply. “Reyes’ daughter. That’s her, isn’t it?”

My throat worked before I managed a nod.

He sighed. “You’re a dumbass. Go rest. Tomorrow’s your day off, right?”

*~*~*~*

I left the station and drove home with the windows down, hoping the cold would shock something useful into me. It didn’t.

My house greeted me with quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind that made your thoughts echo.

I walked into the kitchen and leaned both palms on the counter, letting reality settle.

If Andrei was back…

If he came for her…

If they were fixing things…

What was I supposed to do?

Fight for her?

Step back?

Let her be happy even if it kills me a little?

I sank onto the couch, elbows on my knees, hands clasped tight.

I’ve always stepped back.

It was easier.

Safer.

Less heartbreaking to lose from a distance than to risk everything and fall flat on my face.

But this time, the thought of stepping aside made my stomach twist painfully.

Three days with her—three stupid, simple days—had undone years of trying to forget how much I cared.

Her smile.

Her excitement over the charity event.

The way she stopped my truck just to remind me about Christmas lights.

The way she looked at me like we were still… us.

And then Andrei shows up.

Polished, well-dressed, confident, the kind of man who could promise her a world I couldn’t even imagine.

I dropped my head into my hands.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

If I fight for her, I risk everything, including losing her completely.

If I step back, I lose her anyway—quietly, painfully, again.

Neither path is painless.

But maybe…

Maybe the question wasn’t what hurt less.

Maybe the question was what I could live with.

And I realized, slowly, painfully:

I couldn’t live with letting her slip away without trying.

Not again.

Not this time.

I exhaled shakily.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow was my day off.

And I needed to figure out exactly how the hell I was going to fight for her… without ruining everything in the process.

Because if losing her once broke me—

Losing her again might finish the job.