“What’s wrong, Mom?” Alessia asked, seeing how flustered Karen looked. She half–expected something serious had happened.
“Here, gifts. I was going to give them to you tonight, but in case <i>you </i>two get backte, I thought I’d hand them over now.<i>” </i>Karen pressed a small <i>box </i><i>into </i>each of their hands.
“Thanks, Mom.” Alessia epted hers without fuss, smiling warmly.
Cole, on the other hand, stood there awkwardly, gift in hand, unsure what to <i>do</i>.
“What’s got you frozen?” Karen teased, ncing at Alessia. Alessia just nudged Cole’s sleeve, encouraging him.
“I just didn’t expect you’d have one for me too. Thank you, Mrs. Morton.” Cole’s words were polite, but a touch uneasy.
For a moment, he was transported back to childhood–after every holiday meal, his parents would hand out gifts and pocket money.
Back then, he and his siblings didn’t care much about money. What mattered was that these were gifts from their parents.
“What are you saying? Aren’t you one of the kids?” Karen patted his arm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Exactly. When have you ever seen a kid without a present, or a bit of pocket money?” Brendan wandered over, having just finished the dishes.
“With <i>your </i>gifts in hand, may the new year bring you safety and happiness.” Karen’s smile was warm, her blessing wrapping around the two of them like a soft shawl.
Cole ran his fingers over the box, then smiled and thanked the Mortons. Alessia watched his hand, studying his profile–she could guess exactly what he was thinking.
By the time they arrived at the restaurant, night had already fallen. Winter days were short, and outside, darkness wrapped itself around the little side street.
Children darted in and out of the shadows, waving sparklers. Rednterns–now reced by strings of fairy lights–hung overhead, castin
g a cheery glow.
“We used to y like that, remember?” Cole said, steadying a little boy who nearly tripped.
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The boy mumbled a quick thanks, then dashed off as his friends called his name, disappearing into the end of thene.
“Back then, the whole street echoed with parents calling their kids home for dinner. Mr. Whitley would shout himself hoarse and we’d still pretend <i>not </i>to hear. Ms. June always said Mr. Whitley was ying hide–and–seek with us–made us hide for a whole hour just to see if he’d give up.”
Cole grinned, tucking Alessia’s hand inside his coat pocket to keep her warm.
“Yeah. And in the end, the three of us stood in the yard getting a lecture from Dad for half an hour, only for Mom to swoop in, put on a show, and save us.”
Alessia nodded. “You almost led me the wrong way, too.”
Cole scratched his nose sheepishly, lips twitching in a smile.
Back then, he hadn’t even known the way home; he’d nearly gotten them lost. In the end, it was Alessia–who’d just moved there–who led them back to the clinic.
Jade June had teased him about it for a decade. Every New Year’s, she’d bring it up. They reached the house, the front door left open for them.
“Happy New Year, Grandpa!”
“Cole, Lessie.” Six Dawson greeted them:
They stepped inside. In the yard, Xander bustled about, directing Six as they moved a table indoors. When he saw them, he abandoned the table and hobbled over, leaning on his cane.
It struck them then–while they’d been growing up, the older generation had been quietly growing older, too.
“You’re heree in,e in. Dinner will be here soon.”
Most years, Cole’s father, Parrish, would have been in the kitchen. Ever since the Whitleys‘ troubles, though, their so–called holiday feast came from the best
restaurant in town.
“Oh, and my mom baked these for you this afternoon.” Alessia handed Xander a box of homemade cookies.
Cole stepped in to help Six with the table.
Xander’s eyes turned ssy as he took the cookies, his hands trembling slightly. In past years, Jade would always buy him a special treat for the holiday. Now, those
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days were gone.