Evan (Angel Institute #6)

Chapter 21

Twenty-One

EVAN

T he winter wind nips at my cheeks as I rush through the streets of Benton Falls, my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and fear. The town is alive with Christmas Eve excitement, twinkling lights adorning every lamppost and storefront, but I barely notice the festive atmosphere. My mind is focused on one thing only: Molly.

How could I have been so blind?

The realization of what I almost threw away hits me like a physical force, propelling me forward with renewed urgency. The weight of Morgan's boss’s business card, still tucked in my pocket, feels like a lead weight—a reminder of the momentary lapse that nearly cost me everything that truly matters.

As I round the corner onto Molly's street, I'm struck by the sight of her modest sage-green bungalow. The small front porch is adorned with a simple wreath and twinkling white lights, a warm glow emanating from the windows. It's not grand or fancy, but it radiates a sense of home that makes my chest ache with longing.

I pause at the foot of her driveway, suddenly unsure. What if I'm too late? What if she doesn't want to hear what I have to say? The doubt threatens to overwhelm me, but then I remember Betty's words from the bakery: "It's never too late for love, Evan. Especially on Christmas Eve."

Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and make my way to the front door.

There’s a hint of fresh snow in the air, mingling with the crisp winter breeze. I can hear the faint strains of "Silent Night" playing from inside, and for a moment, I'm transported back to all the Christmases of my childhood—the warmth, the love, the sense of belonging.

Before I can second-guess myself again, I raise my hand and knock on the door. The seconds that pass feel like an eternity, each one stretching out with agonizing slowness. And then, suddenly, the door swings open, and there she is.

Molly stands before me, her chestnut hair slightly mussed, wearing a soft green sweater that brings out the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the air between us charged with unspoken emotions.

"Evan?" she says, her voice a mixture of surprise and wariness. "What are you doing here?"

I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. How do I express the tumult of emotions swirling inside me? How do I make her understand that in the span of a few hours, my entire world view has shifted?

"Molly, I... I made a mistake," I begin, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I've been so focused on what I thought I wanted, on this idea of adventure and freedom, that I almost missed the most incredible adventure of all — the one right here, with you and Chad."

Her expression softens slightly, but I can still see the hurt in her eyes. "Evan, I–"

"Please," I interrupt gently, "let me finish. I've been taking so much for granted—this town, the farm, the people here. But most of all, I've been taking you for granted. You and Chad... you've brought so much light into my life, so much joy. The thought of leaving, of giving that up... it's unthinkable."

I take a step closer, my heart in my throat. "I love you, Molly. I love Chad. You're not just part of my life—you are my life. And if you'll let me, I want to spend every day showing you how grateful I am for that."

Molly's eyes glisten with unshed tears, and for a moment, I'm terrified I've said too much, too soon. But then she reaches out, her hand gently cupping my cheek. The warmth of her touch sends a shiver through me, igniting a spark of hope in my chest.

"Oh, Evan," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you too. But I'm scared. What if you wake up one day and regret staying? What if–"

I shake my head, covering her hand with mine. "That's not going to happen. I know that now. Everything I've ever wanted, everything I've been searching for—it's right here. In this town, on that farm, with you and Chad. That's the adventure I want, Molly. That's the life I choose."

A single tear escapes, trailing down Molly's cheek. I gently wipe it away with my thumb, marveling at the softness of her skin. "I'm sorry I hurt you," I say. "I'm sorry I made you doubt for even a second how important you are to me. But if you'll give me another chance, I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt it again."

For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. And then, slowly, a smile breaks across Molly's face—a smile so radiant it puts all the Christmas lights in Benton Falls to shame.

"I think I can manage that," she says, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of love and mischief.

Before I can respond, a small voice pipes up from behind Molly. "Mom? Who's at the door?"

Chad appears, his sandy hair tousled and his eyes wide with curiosity. When he sees me, his face lights up. "Evan! Are you here to help us hang up our stockings? Mom said we had to wait until Christmas Eve, and it's finally Christmas Eve!"

I look at Molly, silently asking permission. She nods, her smile soft and welcoming. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea," she says. "What do you say, Evan? Want to help us hang up stockings?"

My heart swells with emotion. This—this right here—is everything I've ever wanted. "I'd love nothing more," I say, my voice rough with feeling.

As I step into the warmth of Molly's home, I'm enveloped by the scent of pine and freshly baked cookies. The living room is cozy and inviting, with mismatched furniture that somehow fits perfectly together. The tree is all aglow and flames dance in the hearth.

Chad immediately grabs my hand, pulling me towards a box of ornaments. "Come on, Evan! I want to show you the ornament I made at school. It's a reindeer, but I used pinecones for the body instead of wood slices!"

I laugh, allowing myself to be led by his enthusiasm. "That sounds amazing, buddy. I can't wait to see it."

As he points to the ornament on the tree, I'm struck by the simple joy of the moment. Chad's excitement is infectious, his laughter filling the room as he tells me about each ornament.

Molly walks over with stockings draped over her arm. She hands one to Chad and one to me. "I hope you don't mind," Molly says as I hold the stocking, running my fingers over my name stitched across the top. "I got this for you. I guess I was hoping you’d be spending Christmas Eve with us.”

I'm overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. "Molly, I... thank you. This means more than you know."

She smiles, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "Every family member needs a stocking."

Family. The word echoes in my mind, filling me with a warmth that spreads from my core to the tips of my fingers. Is that what we are? What we could be?

As if reading my thoughts, Chad pipes up, "Does this mean you're going to be here for Christmas morning too, Evan? Because that would be the best present ever!"

I look at Molly, not wanting to overstep. She meets my gaze, her eyes soft with love and invitation. "What do you say, Evan? Want to join us for Christmas morning?"

My heart feels like it might burst with happiness. "I'd love nothing more," I say, my voice thick with emotion.

Chad lets out a whoop of joy, launching himself at me for a hug. I catch him, lifting him up and spinning him around as his laughter fills the room. When I set him down, I find Molly watching us, her eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness.

I reach out, pulling her into our embrace. For a moment, we stand there, the three of us wrapped in each other's arms, the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over us. This, I realize, is what home feels like. This is what love feels like.

As we pull apart, I'm struck by a sudden thought. "You know," I say, "there's still one Christmas tradition we haven't covered yet."

Molly raises an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Oh? And what's that?"

I grin, feeling a surge of excitement. "The church’s candlelight service. It's not Christmas Eve without it. What do you say we bundle up and head down to the church?"

Chad's eyes light up. "Can we, Mom? Please?"

Molly pretends to consider for a moment, but I can see the answer in her eyes before she speaks. "Well, I suppose we can't break tradition, can we? Let's do it."

The next few minutes are a flurry of activity as we bundle up in coats, scarves, and mittens. As we step out into the cool night air, I'm struck by the beauty of Benton Falls on Christmas Eve. The streets are lined with luminarias, their soft glow creating a path of light through the town. The sound of carols drifts on the breeze, growing stronger as we near the town square.

Chad walks between us, his small hand in mine, chattering excitedly about the service and wondering if we'll see any of his school friends there. Molly walks on his other side, her arm linked through mine, her presence a warm comfort in the cold night.

As we reach the church, I'm overwhelmed by the sight before us. The old colonial building stands proudly against the night sky, its windows aglow with warm light. People are filing in, their faces bright with anticipation and joy. The air is filled with the scent of pine from the wreaths adorning the doors and the sound of greetings exchanged between friends and neighbors.

We find seats near the back of the church, and I'm handed three candles by a smiling usher. As we wait for the service to begin, I look around at the faces of my neighbors, my friends, my community. I see joy, love, hope—all the things that make this season so special.

The pastor steps forward, his voice ringing out across the sanctuary as he welcomes everyone to the service. As he speaks about the spirit of Christmas, about love and togetherness, I feel Molly lean into me, her head resting on my shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the pastor's words.

I look down at her, confused. "For what?"

She smiles, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. "For coming back. For choosing us. For making this the best Christmas Eve I can remember."

My heart swells with emotion. "No, Molly. Thank you. For showing me what really matters. For helping me see the beauty in the life I have. I'm the lucky one here."

As the first notes of "Silent Night" begin to play, we light our candles, the flame passing from person to person until the entire church is aglow. Chad stands in front of us, his face a picture of wonder as he carefully holds his candle, singing along with all the enthusiasm of a nine-year-old boy.

I wrap my arm around Molly's waist, pulling her close as we join in the singing. In this moment, surrounded by the warmth of community and the love of this incredible woman and her son, I'm overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude so profound it brings tears to my eyes.

This is what I've been searching for all along. Not some far-off adventure or grand dream, but this: the simple joy of being part of something larger than myself. Of having a place to belong, people to love, a community to serve.

As the final notes of the carol fade away, I turn to Molly. The candlelight flickers across her face, highlighting the softness of her features, the warmth in her eyes. Without a word, I lean in, my lips meeting hers in a kiss that feels like coming home.

It's soft and sweet, filled with promise and love and the magic of Christmas. When we part, I rest my forehead against hers, savoring the moment.

"I love you, Molly Bennett," I whisper, my voice rough with emotion. "You and Chad... you're my home, my adventure, my everything."

She smiles, her eyes shining with happy tears. "And we love you, Evan Lawson. Merry Christmas."

The service concludes, and we file out of the church, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside. Chad skips ahead, his energy seemingly boundless even at this late hour.

"Can we go see the big tree in the square?" he asks, his eyes bright with excitement.

I look at Molly, who nods with a smile. "Of course we can, buddy," I say, ruffling his hair. "Lead the way."

Hand in hand, the three of us make our way through the quiet streets towards the town square. The massive Christmas tree stands tall and proud, its lights twinkling like stars in the night sky. As we approach, I hear the faint chiming of the courthouse clock.

"It's almost midnight," Molly says, her breath visible in the cold air.

We stand there, gazing up at the tree, as the clock begins to strike. With each chime, I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me.

For this town.

For this moment.

For the love I've found.

As the twelfth strike fades away, heralding the arrival of Christmas Day, I pull Molly and Chad close. The square is quiet, peaceful, bathed in the soft glow of the Christmas lights.

"Merry Christmas," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

"Merry Christmas, Evan," Molly replies, her eyes shining with love.

"Merry Christmas!" Chad echoes, his excitement palpable even through his sleepiness.

As we stand there, wrapped in each other's arms beneath the twinkling lights of the town square Christmas tree, I'm filled with a sense of peace and rightness that I've never known before. The restlessness that has plagued me for so long has been replaced by a deep, abiding gratitude.

When the bells fade into the night and the first minutes of Christmas Day tick by, I send up a silent prayer of thanks. For second chances, for open hearts, and for the magic of Christmas that brought me home in every sense of the word.

This, I realize, is the greatest adventure of all. And I'm grateful—so incredibly grateful—for every step of the journey that led me here.