Evan (Angel Institute #6)

Chapter 19

Nineteen

EVAN

T he scent of hot cider and pine fills the air as I adjust the collar of my wool coat, trying to ward off the cool December chill. Main Street is alive with the buzz of excitement, families and friends lining the sidewalks in anticipation of the annual Benton Falls Community Christmas Parade. Twinkling lights adorn every lamppost and storefront, transforming our little town into a winter wonderland.

I scan the crowd, searching for Molly and Chad. My heart skips a beat when I spot them near Violet's Diner, Molly's chestnut hair peeking out from beneath a jaunty red beret. Chad bounces beside her, his enthusiasm palpable even from a distance.

As I make my way towards them, weaving through the throng of excited townsfolk, I can’t help but recall the amazing dreams I had last night, one right after another, images of me, Molly, and Chad as a family—I’m not sure what the dreams meant. Maybe I’d been visited by the Ghost of Christmas, but does that make me a Scrooge? I grin, shaking off the notion. I can’t think about that now.

"Evan!" Chad's excited voice carries over the crowd. He waves frantically, nearly knocking off his own hat. "We saved you a spot!"

I grin as I reach them. "Thanks, buddy. Wouldn't want to miss the best view in town, would I?"

Molly's eyes meet mine, and the warmth in her gaze makes my heart flutter. "We were starting to think you might not make it," she says, her tone gently teasing.

"And miss seeing Santa? Not a chance," I reply, winking at Chad. The boy's eyes widen with excitement at the mention of Saint Nick.

As I settle in beside them, I'm acutely aware of Molly's presence. The soft scent of her perfume - something floral and delicate - mingles with the holiday aromas around us. Her shoulder brushes against mine as she shifts to make room, and even through layers of winter clothing, I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact.

"So, what's the inside scoop?" I ask, leaning in conspiratorially. "Any intel on this year's parade highlights?"

Chad pipes up immediately, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. "Maggie said the bakery made a giant gingerbread house float! And the hardware store is doing a workshop with moving elves. Oh, and the high school band has new uniforms that light up!"

I chuckle at his enthusiasm. "Sounds like it's going to be quite the spectacle. Can’t wait to see it."

Molly smiles, her eyes twinkling in the glow of the streetlights. "Me too. And the parade will be even better now that you’re here." She takes my hand. “Right where you belong.”

Her words fill my heart with beats of joy and an unexpected pang of guilt. This is where I belong, with this community. So why am I still holding onto Morgan's business card? Why can't I shake the lingering doubt, the whisper of 'what if' that plagues me in quiet moments?

Before I can dwell on these thoughts, the sound of distant music catches our attention. Chad lets out an excited whoop. "It's starting!"

The parade kicks off with the Benton Falls High School marching band, their newly illuminated uniforms living up to the hype. They play a rousing rendition of "Jingle Bells" that has the crowd clapping along. I tap my foot to the beat, caught up in the infectious holiday spirit.

As float after float passes by, each more elaborate than the last, I watch Chad's face light up with wonder. His excitement is contagious, and I see the parade through new eyes. The bakery's gingerbread house float really is a sight to behold, the scent of fresh-baked cookies wafting from it making my mouth water.

"Look, Mom!" Chad tugs on Molly's sleeve, pointing at the hardware store's workshop float. "The elves are really moving!"

Molly leans down, her arm wrapping around Chad's shoulders. "I see them, honey. It's amazing, isn't it?"

I watch their interaction and my heavy coat has nothing to do with why I feel so warm inside. They fit so perfectly into this scene, into this life in Benton Falls. The sight of them, framed by twinkling lights and the joyful atmosphere of the parade, is like something out of a Christmas card.

And yet...

The weight of Morgan's offer sits heavy in my pocket, a constant reminder of the choice that lies before me. I should’ve left it home in the drawer. The parade continues, a blur of lights and music and laughter, but I find my thoughts drifting. I imagine myself on a TV set, sharing Christmas traditions from around the world. The excitement of travel, of new experiences, of fulfilling that long-held dream of seeing what lies beyond Benton Falls...

"Evan?" Molly's voice breaks through my reverie. "Are you okay? You seem a million miles away."

I blink, focusing on her concerned face. The parade continues around us, but at this moment, it's as if the world has narrowed to just the two of us.

"I'm fine," I say automatically, but the words feel hollow. Molly's brow furrows, and I know she's not buying it. She's always been able to see right through me.

"Evan," she says as her hand squeezes mine. "What's going on? You've been... different lately. Distant."

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of the moment. This isn't how I planned to have this conversation, surrounded by the joy and excitement of the parade. But looking into Molly's eyes, seeing the mixture of concern and affection there, I know I can't keep this from her any longer.

"Molly, I..." I start, then falter. How do I explain the turmoil in my heart? The conflict between the life I'm building here and the dreams I've held onto for so long?

Chad's excited voice cuts through the tension. "Mom! Evan! Look, it's Santa!"

Sure enough, the highlight of the parade is approaching. Santa's sleigh, pulled by "reindeer" on roller skates, glides down Main Street. Children cheer and wave, their faces alight with wonder.

But Molly's eyes never leave my face. "Evan," she says, her voice barely audible over the crowd's excitement. "Please. Talk to me."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Morgan offered me a job," I blurt out, the words tumbling from me in a rush. "With her new station. Traveling, sharing Christmas traditions from around the world. It's... it's everything I used to dream about."

I see the moment my words register, the flash of hurt in Molly's eyes before she masks it. She pulls her hand from mine, and I feel the loss of contact like a physical ache.

"Oh," she says, her voice carefully neutral. "I see. And... are you going to take it?"

The parade continues around us, a stark contrast to the bubble of tension we're trapped in. Santa waves from his sleigh, children laugh and cheer, but all I can focus on is the guarded look in Molly's eyes.

"I don't know," I admit, hating the uncertainty in my voice. "I haven't decided yet. It's a big opportunity, but..."

"But what?" Molly prompts, and I can hear the strain in her voice, the effort it's taking her to remain calm.

"But I have a life here," I say, reaching for her hand again. She lets me take it, but her fingers remain limp in my grasp. "The farm, the community... you and Chad. It's not an easy decision."

Molly's eyes search my face, and I can see the conflict there, the hope warring with fear. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

I wince at the hurt in her voice. "I was going to. I just... I needed time to think it through. To figure out what I really want."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they're the wrong ones. Molly pulls her hand away, taking a step back. The space between us feels vast, despite the crowd pressing in around us.

"What you really want," she repeats, her voice flat. "I see."

"Molly, that's not what I meant—"

But she cuts me off, shaking her head. "No, I think it's exactly what you meant, Evan. You needed time to decide if we—if this life here—is what you really want."

The pain in her eyes is unmistakable now, and it cuts me to the core. I've hurt her, the last thing I ever wanted to do.

"Mom?" Chad's voice breaks through our tension. He's looking between us, confusion clear on his face. "What's wrong?"

Molly forces a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Nothing, honey. We're just talking. Why don't you go see if you can catch some of the candy canes Mrs. Claus is throwing?"

Chad hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering between us, before the lure of candy wins out. As he darts off into the crowd, Molly turns back to me.

"I think we should call it a night," she says, her voice quiet but firm. "Chad and I should head home."

"Molly, please," I say, reaching for her again. "Let's talk about this. I don't want to leave things like this."

She steps back, avoiding my touch. "I think we both need some time to think, Evan. You clearly have a lot to consider."

The finality in her tone feels like a blow to the gut. I watch helplessly as she calls Chad back, as they gather their things. The parade continues around us, but the joy and magic of the evening have evaporated, leaving only a hollow ache in my chest.

"Goodnight, Evan," Molly says, her voice barely audible over the crowd's cheers. "Merry Christmas."

Before I can respond, she's gone, leading Chad through the throng of people. I stand there, surrounded by the festive atmosphere of the parade, feeling more alone than I have in months.

The rest of the parade passes in a blur. I'm vaguely aware of Santa's sleigh making its final pass, of the crowd beginning to disperse, but it all feels distant, unreal. My mind is replaying the conversation with Molly, seeing the hurt in her eyes, the way she pulled away from me.

As I make my way back to my truck, the streets of Benton Falls seem different. The twinkling lights that had seemed so magical earlier now feel cold and distant. The laughter and chatter of families heading home grate on my nerves, a stark reminder of what I might be losing.

The drive back to the farm is silent, save for the crunch of gravel under my tires. As I pull up to the farmhouse, its dark windows a reflection of the emptiness I feel inside, I'm struck by how different everything looks. Just this morning, this place had felt full of possibility, of warmth, of the future I was building with Molly and Chad. Now, it feels like a reminder of all I stand to lose.

I make my way inside, not bothering to turn on the lights. In the darkness of the living room, I sink into my favorite armchair, the weight of the evening settling over me like a heavy blanket.

What have I done?

The question echoes in my mind as I replay the evening's events. Molly's hurt expression, the distance in her eyes as she said goodnight, the confusion on Chad's face... it all haunts me.

I pull Morgan's business card out of my pocket, staring at it in the dim light filtering through the windows. This little piece of cardstock, with its promise of adventure and new horizons, suddenly feels like a curse. Is this what I really want? To leave behind everything I've built here, the connections I've made, the love that's been growing between Molly and me?

But even as I question it, I can't deny the small thrill that runs through me at the thought of travel, of seeing the world, of fulfilling the dreams I've held onto for so long. It's a part of me, this wanderlust, as much as the roots I've put down in Benton Falls.

As I sit there in the darkness, I'm struck by the irony of it all. For years, I've felt tied to this place, dreaming of escape. And now that the opportunity is here, now that I have the chance to leave... I'm terrified of losing what I have.

I think back to the first day Molly and Chad came to the farm.The way her eyes lit up when she saw the wreaths and the trees. I remember Chad's excitement the first time he helped me choose a Christmas tree for a customer, his face beaming with pride.

These memories, once a source of warmth and joy, now feel tainted by the hurt I saw in Molly's eyes tonight. I stand up abruptly, unable to sit still with the weight of my thoughts. Pacing the room, I try to sort through the jumble of emotions coursing through me. Guilt, longing, fear, excitement - they all war within me, leaving me feeling raw and confused.

Part of me wants to rush to Molly's house, to explain everything, to beg for understanding. But I know that's not the answer. She was right - we both need time to think.

As I pass by the mantle, my eyes fall on a photo taken just a few weeks ago. It's of Molly, Chad, and me amongst the Christmas trees. We're all laughing, covered in pine needles, our cheeks red from the cold. We look... happy. Like a family.

The sight of it stops me in my tracks. Is this what I'm willing to give up? This warmth, this sense of belonging, this love that's been growing between us?

But then my gaze shifts to the window, to the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. They seem to call to me, reminding me of all the places I've dreamed of seeing, all the adventures I've longed to have.

I sink back into the armchair, feeling torn in two. As the clock on the mantle chimes midnight, I'm no closer to a decision. The parade's festive atmosphere feels like a distant memory, replaced by the heavy silence of the farmhouse and the weight of the choice before me.

I close my eyes, wishing for clarity, for a sign of what I should do. But all I see is Molly's hurt expression, the disappointment in her eyes as she walked away.

What have I done? And more importantly, what am I going to do now?

The questions linger in the air, unanswered, as the night wears on. Outside, the world is blanketed in the quiet peace of a winter's night. But inside, in the darkness of the farmhouse, my heart and mind continue their tumultuous debate, leaving me feeling more lost and uncertain than ever before.

As the first light of dawn creeps through the windows, I realize I've spent the entire night in that chair, turning over every possibility in my mind. My body aches from the lack of movement, but it's nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

I stand, stretching my stiff muscles, and make my way to the kitchen. The coffee maker gurgles to life, filling the air with the rich aroma of brewing coffee. It's a comforting scent, a part of my daily routine, but today it feels hollow, just another reminder of how everything has changed.

As I wait for the coffee to brew, I stare out the window at the farm. The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the rows of evergreens. It's a sight I've seen countless times, but today it feels different. Today, I'm seeing it through the lens of potential loss.

I think about Morgan's offer, about the excitement of travel and new experiences. But then my mind drifts back to Molly, to the hurt in her eyes last night, to the way she pulled away from me.

A new thought occurs to me, one that sends a chill through my body despite the warmth of the kitchen. What if Molly doesn't really care about me as much as I thought? If she truly cared, wouldn't she have stayed to talk it through, to understand my perspective?

The coffee maker beeps, signaling it's done, but I hardly notice. My mind is racing now, replaying every interaction with Molly, searching for signs I might have missed.

She ran away at the first sign of a problem. Just like that, she shut down and walked away. Is that how she handles all difficulties? Is that the kind of relationship I want to be in?

I pour myself a cup of coffee, the familiar action feeling strangely disconnected from reality. As I take the first sip, the bitter taste matches my mood.

Maybe I've been fooling myself all along. Maybe what I thought was growing between us was just a comfortable illusion, a way to feel less lonely in a place I've always felt trapped.

The farm suddenly feels confining, the walls of the kitchen closing in on me. I've spent so long trying to convince myself that I could be happy here, that I could find fulfillment in this life. But what if I've just been lying to myself?

Morgan's offer floats back into my mind, no longer feeling like a temptation, but like a lifeline. A chance to break free, to see the world, to find out who I really am outside of this town and this farm.

Maybe I should take the job. Maybe this is the wake-up call I needed to realize that my dreams of travel and adventure aren't just youthful fantasies, but a core part of who I am.

As I drain the last of my coffee, a sense of resolve settles over me. I've spent too long trying to fit myself into a life that might not be right for me. It's time to take a chance, to make a decision.

I reach for my phone, my finger hovering over Morgan's number. The first rays of sunlight stream through the window, illuminating the kitchen in a soft glow. It feels like a sign, a new day dawning, full of possibilities.

With a deep breath, I press the call button. As the phone rings, I feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. Whatever happens next, I know one thing for certain: nothing will ever be the same again.