Christmas Cancellation

22. NOELLE

Chapter twenty-two

T he bright sunlight streaming through the window dragged me back to consciousness but made it nearly impossible for me to open my eyelids. Memories from last night drifted through my mind—Kol’s touch, the way he had worshiped every inch of me—and I wanted to stay wrapped up in the warm cocoon of satisfaction. Waking up slowly, I stretched like a lazy cat under the covers. My muscles were deliciously sore. The ache reminded me of how thoroughly he had taken his time, leaving me spent, blissful, and drifting off to an unworried sleep.

My mind started to clear as I came fully awake, and the chill at my back told me Kol wasn’t there. Stretching an arm out confirmed it—just empty space and cold sheets. I cracked open an eye and scanned the room. There were no lights on in the bathroom, and the house was completely quiet…maybe a little too quiet. No signs of him anywhere. He was probably downstairs, waiting for me to wake up.

I sat up, the events of the day before replaying in my mind. He hadn’t pitied me, hadn’t offered any of the hollow sympathy I’d gotten used to receiving from others. No, Kol had seen me—all of me—and still looked at me like I was everything he’d ever wanted. Like I was his beginning, his end, and everything in between. It was heady, knowing I had that kind of effect on him. And coming from a man like Kol, someone as guarded as he was? That made it all the more potent.

Eager to find him, I rolled out of bed. Christmas Day with my very own Captain Santa? Yes, please! Maybe we’d take his big red sleigh , as Mrs. Winters had so aptly called his Bronco, out for some adventuring. The thought made me grin as I headed to the bathroom.

I cleaned up quickly, brushing my teeth and washing my face before putting on some black leggings and an oversized red sweater that was just long enough to cover my booty. Casual but cute. I pulled a brush through my hair, letting the curls settle in their usual wild state before tying half of it up with a red bow. The ends of the ribbon draped down along the back of my hair, adding just the right touch of festive cheer.

After applying a little makeup, I was ready to find Kol. I was surprised he hadn’t come up when he’d heard me stirring.

I rushed downstairs, the wooden planks creaking under my feet, anticipation bubbling up inside me. Kol was probably in the living room or kitchen.

But he wasn’t there, and all the lights were off in the living room. The usual warmth from the fireplace was absent. Something wasn’t right.

“Kol?” I called out, my voice echoing through the silent house. No response. I darted into the kitchen, expecting for him to be there, leaning against the counter, coffee in hand. But it was empty and silent save for the ticking of the vintage cat clock, its tail swinging with each second. It wasn’t just empty; it was clean—spotless. The pizza boxes from last night were gone, the plate of cookies I’d made had vanished, and the countertops sparkled like they’d just been scrubbed. It looked as though no one had touched a single thing since we’d arrived.

A niggle of unease wormed its way into my stomach. Had he left?

I moved to the back door, peeking out into the yard, half-expecting to see him gathering wood. But there was no sign of him; the snow was undisturbed. No footprints, no Kol.

The knot of worry tightened in my stomach. Maybe he’d gone to get breakfast. Yeah, that had to be it. He had gone to grab us something to eat and would be returning any minute, and I’d laugh about how silly I’d been, worrying over nothing.

I rushed back into the living room, flipping on the lights. My breath hitched. The room was too neat, too perfect. The blankets we’d used for our makeshift bed were gone, the sofa cushions were back in place, and the Christmas afghan lay draped over the back of the couch.

I blinked and stared at the tree, my gaze narrowing on the velvet ribbon Kol had used to blindfold me. It was back on the tree, wrapped perfectly around the branches, as though it had never left.

This didn’t make sense. Not one bit.

I spun around, my eyes landing on the fireplace. It was clean—no fire, no ashes, just wood stacked neatly on the hearth. It was like we’d never been here at all.

This was too weird, too fucking creepy.

Had I dreamed the last two days? The laughter, the tears, Kol’s presence? It couldn’t have all been in my head. But as I stood there, looking around at this room that had been scrubbed of all evidence, uncertainty began to stir. My feet moved of their own accord, and I started pacing, rubbing my temples, trying to find some solid ground. My body ached in places that screamed of last night’s reality. It hadn’t been a dream. Kol had been here.

But where the hell was he now?

Bolting back to the kitchen, I snatched my phone from the counter. I had to call him and figure out what was happening. But as I stared at the screen, my heart sank. I didn’t have his number. We’d been together almost every minute since the airport—no need for texts or calls. I tossed the phone back onto the counter.

Think, Noelle, think . There had to be a note, something that would explain all this. I rummaged through the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets, searching for something—anything—that might tell me where he’d gone. Nothing. Not a single clue.

My mind raced, my thoughts spiraling out of control. Had I said something? Maybe he’d changed his mind about me, about us. Maybe he’d decided I wasn’t worth the hassle. But that didn’t make sense. He’d been so sweet, so loving. He was the most understanding guy I’d ever met, like fate had sent him to me to help restore my faith that life was worth living. He’d held me while I cried, for fuck’s sake. He wouldn’t just leave, not without saying something.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. And then it hit me—was his luggage still here? We’d taken our bags upstairs to the bedroom. I flew up the stairs and down the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest. Please, please, please. I chanted a silent mantra. Please let his bag be there .

I flung open the door and scanned the room. Everything was as I’d left it—the bed unmade, the curtains drawn. I rushed to the closet, my heart in my throat. And then I saw it. My bag, sitting there all alone. His was gone.

I stumbled back, shock coursing through my veins. He’d left. Kol had left without a trace, without a note, without the decency to say goodbye. I sank onto the edge of the bed, my body shaking with disbelief. This couldn’t be happening, not like this.

Tears pricked my eyes. I had let him in, let him see me, all of me. And he’d left, just like everyone else, just like Blake, just like my parents.

But I refused to allow a single teardrop to fall. I’d cried more yesterday than I had in the last four years. I was done. I’d been such a fool, such a fucking idiot. I’d thought he was different, thought he cared. But he was just like the rest of them. And now I was alone again. Alone in this big, empty house, with nothing but the ghosts of my past to keep me company.

I sat on the edge of the bed, reality sinking in. Kol was gone. My body shook, filled with a toxic swirl of hurt and anger. I hugged my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. After my meltdown at the cemetery yesterday, who wouldn’t have run? I’d probably scared the hell out of him. Hell, I scared myself sometimes. At some point last night, he must have come to his senses and decided I wasn’t worth it. I’d been a hot mess of ugly tears.

I glanced around the room, my gaze landing on the rumpled sheets and the indent on his pillow. What had last night been about then? Had he just felt sorry for me? The tenderness in his eyes, the softness in his touch—it must have been pity. That had to be it. It had been nothing more than a sympathy fuck. God, how embarrassing. I squeezed my eyes shut, cringing at the thought. Why else would a guy like Kol waste his time with someone like me?

Men like him had options. They had their pick of the litter, and I was just a broken, jobless loser. I should’ve seen this coming. Everyone left eventually. They always did. The minute they realized I was too much, they slipped away. Kol had just done it in the middle of the night while I slept like a fool, thinking he’d still be here in the morning.

Anger surged through me, hot and fierce. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms. I wasn’t a loser. I wasn’t some weak, pathetic thing to be pitied. I was Noelle fucking Nichols, and I was done apologizing for who I was. If I was too much—too loud, too fiery—well, they could go find less. No one got to set limits on me or dictate my volume. I wasn’t born to be some quiet little thing, biting my tongue and playing office politics like a good little girl. I was a goddamn wild mustang, not some show pony. Why the hell was I letting anyone make me feel otherwise?

I had to get out of here, go back to Atlanta and figure out what to do with the rest of my life. The idea of being stuck here, in the midst of all these ghosts and empty promises, made my skin crawl. But Atlanta wasn’t much better. All I had there was an empty apartment and no job. And I’d be back at the starting line of my career.

Well, not everything there sucked. Amanda was there. The only sunlight in Atlanta was Amanda. She was the one person who had stuck around all these years. She was loud like me. Fun like me. A sister from another mother, a kindred spirit who was trying to find a good guy who didn’t just want to fuck around.

Amanda. I needed to talk to Amanda. She’d know what to do, how to fix this mess I’d made of my life. I could call her, maybe. God, how would I even explain all of this? Hey, so after I quit my job, I gave my heart to a guy after two days, and he bailed on Christmas Morning. How’s your holiday going? This whole Kol situation was insane. She’d think I’d lost my mind. And the clause—God, the clause. I couldn’t even think about that right now.

I was stuck, trapped in this goddamn limbo, and I hated it.

I snatched my phone from the nightstand, scrolling to Amanda’s number. My thumb hovered over the call button. No, I couldn’t do this to her. Not today. It was Christmas, for fuck’s sake. She’d be with her family and friends. I couldn’t dump this on her, not now.

I had to deal with this myself, figure out what I wanted and where the hell I belonged.

For a few minutes, I sat on the bed, staring at my phone as if it might suddenly light up with an explanation from Kol. But I was only greeted by silence and a blank screen of course. He no more had my number than I had his.

How had I read him so wrong? The way he’d held me last night, the way he’d touched me—none of that had screamed, “ I’m leaving in the middle of the night without a word .” In fact, he had promised he wasn’t going anywhere. What kind of guy said that and then ghosted?

I glanced around the room again, and a hollow feeling settled in my stomach. Huffing an angry breath, I swiped open my phone, going straight to the airline app. If Kol had left, then I sure as hell wasn’t sticking around to mope.

Scrolling through flights, I found one leaving Albany for Atlanta in a few hours—only one. I booked it without thinking twice, but then it hit me—I didn’t have a rental car, and there was no way I could get one in Saratoga on Christmas Morning.

Then I remembered my aunt’s old car parked outside under the carport. Surely, the keys were somewhere in the house. Technically, the house—and everything on the premises—was mine now, right? I had signed the papers. Borrowing it wasn’t wrong. I’d return it. Eventually.

“Right,” I muttered, grabbing my suitcase from the closet. “Big-girl panties on. Compartmentalize. Lock it all up tight and move.” I tossed my clothes haphazardly into the bag, zipped it shut, and slung my tote over my shoulder. The suitcase thudded against the floor as I dragged it across the hallway, down the stairs, and to the front door. I left it there while I went to hunt for the car keys.

The kitchen seemed like the most logical place to start. It was where I always left my keys. I scanned the countertops. Nothing. I moved on to the drawers, yanking them open one by one, searching through piles of old papers, takeout menus, and spare batteries. Still nothing. The hooks by the door? Nope. I bent down, rummaging through the junk drawer under the microwave, tossing aside rubber bands and random screws. Panic started to rise, a tight knot forming in my chest. I didn’t have time for this. I needed to get to the airport.

Frantically, I rushed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. Maybe she kept the keys in her bedroom. I hesitated at the door, a pang of guilt hitting me. It felt wrong, invading her space like this. But I shook it off. This was my house now, right? And I was just borrowing the car. I’d leave it at the airport and deal with it later.

I pushed open the door, the hinges creaking softly. The room was neat. The bed was made, and a faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. I started with the nightstand, then moved to the dresser, careful not to disturb anything too much. But again, there were no keys.

I stood in the middle of the room, hands on my hips, trying to think. Where the hell would she keep them? Closing my eyes, I pictured Aunt Mary. She was practical, no-nonsense. She wouldn’t leave them just anywhere. She’d put them somewhere safe, somewhere she wouldn’t forget.

My eyes snapped open. Of course. I remembered seeing a little dish on the table by the back door, the closest door to the carport. I’d breezed right past it several times.

I rushed back downstairs. There they were, sitting in the dish—a heart-shaped keychain with a horse on it that matched the house keys. Relief flooded through me as I snatched them up. Now, where had I put the other keys? Good grief. I was so scattered. Ah, yes, my tote.

I headed back through the living room. As I walked by one of the bookshelves, something caught my eye—a small picture frame nestled among the books. I hesitated, then reached out, lifting it from the shelf. I froze when I saw the photo. It was me, maybe six years old, sandwiched between my parents at the racetrack here in town.

We were smiling. My dad’s arm was wrapped around my shoulders, his ball cap pulled low, shielding his eyes from the summer sun. Mom leaned in close. Her face was lit up in the way it always used to when she was at her happiest. And I stood between them with a bright pink stuffed horse, beaming like I’d just won the lottery. That day had been perfect.

I ran my thumb gently over their faces, my chest aching. There was something brutal about this beautiful photo. All those years of happiness, and yet here I was, alone.

I should leave. I needed to leave. Start fresh in Atlanta. Get as far away from all of this as I could. But then again, maybe I shouldn’t run. Maybe there was something here worth staying for—something that could give me more than the empty hustle Atlanta ever could. This was my past, my history. The good, the bad, all of it intertwined, inseparable. And I was standing at a crossroads, torn between running away and facing it head-on. There was something profound about returning to your roots, like a tree reaching deep into the earth, drawing strength from the past to grow tall and strong. It could be the best thing for me, a chance to rebuild. This was a place where I didn’t have to be perfect, where people remembered the girl I’d been before life tore me apart. It could be a chance to start over—not somewhere new, but where it all began.

I sighed, setting the frame gently back on the shelf, my fingers brushing against something cool and metallic. Curious, I picked the object up, turning it over in my hand. It was a shiny silver dollar. The date on it made me pause. My birth year. A strange coincidence. I turned it over, running my thumb along its smooth edges. “Huh. What are the odds?” I muttered.

There was no telling what else might be hidden in this house, old treasures buried under years of dust. But as I held the coin, an idea struck me. What if I let fate decide? Flip a coin. Why not? It wasn’t like my choices had been all that stellar lately. Maybe there was a higher power, something that would guide the outcome of the coin. I could use a little divine intervention right about now.

Biting my lip, I considered it. Heads, I would stay in my hometown. Tails for a new start anywhere but here. Let the universe figure out what I was supposed to do.

I closed my eyes for a second. Then, opening them, I flipped the coin hard and watched it. Time seemed to slow as it spun upward, catching the light that was streaming in through the window. It rotated, again and again, the sun glinting off the silver. I stood there, transfixed, my heart in my throat. This was it—the moment that would decide my future.

The shiny silver dollar spun in the air, rotating slowly at the very peak of its flight. It caught the sun in a burst of brightness that made me squint.

The front door banged open, the noise jarring me out of my trance. I jumped, letting out a startled yelp as the coin clattered onto the floor with a metallic ring. My heart raced, and I whipped around.

Kol stood silhouetted in the doorway, his broad frame backlit by the morning sun, looking like something straight out of a dream…or a nightmare.