Noah (Angel Institute #7)

Chapter 8

Eight

NOAH

T he soft glow of my desk lamp casts long shadows across the living room as Paige and I pore over parade plans. The warmth from the fireplace battles against the chill seeping in through the old window frames, creating a cozy cocoon that wraps around us like a well-worn quilt. The scent of pine from the small Christmas tree in the corner mingles with the rich aroma of the cocoa we’ve been nursing for hours. She keeps making it, and I keep drinking it.

I steal a glance at Paige, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sketches out ideas for float designs. The golden light catches in her hair, turning it into gold. For a moment, I’m tempted to grab my sketchbook and capture the way the shadows play across her face, highlighting the determined set of her jaw and the spark of creativity in her eyes.

Before I can act on the impulse, Paige suddenly stretches, her arms reaching toward the ceiling, and she lets out a small groan. “I need a break,” she declares, her gaze drifting to the window where the last remnants of daylight are fading into a velvety blue twilight. There’s a look in her eyes that I’m starting to recognize—a mixture of restlessness and longing that seems to pull her toward far-off horizons.

“We should go to the Caroling Night at Town Square,” she says, turning to me with that infectious grin that makes my heart do a little flip in my chest.

My first instinct is to object. The thought of leaving the safety of my home, of being surrounded by crowds and expected to participate in something so... public... sends a wave of anxiety through me. But before I can voice my concerns, Paige is on her feet, pulling me up with her.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” she insists as she starts gathering our winter gear. “You won’t have to talk at all if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to sing. We can just go and soak in the atmosphere for a while.”

As she chatters away, draping my scarf around my neck and pressing my gloves into my hands, I’m struck by a realization: This is who Paige is at her core—a free spirit who needs to see the sky, to breathe the open air. The thought of being cooped up for too long makes her antsy, like a bird in a cage. It’s so different from my own need for solitude and routine, and yet... there’s something captivating about it.

Before I know it, we’re stepping out into the night air.

As we walk toward the town square, our breath forming little clouds in front of us, I study Paige out of the corner of my eye.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she says, her voice soft with awe. “I’ve seen Christmas celebrations all over the world, but there’s something special about the way small towns do it. It’s like the whole community comes together to create this... this bubble of magic.”

I nod. The old-fashioned lamp posts are wrapped in garlands, and the storefronts show off elaborate window displays—it all takes on a fairytale quality in the glow of the holiday lights.

The sound of voices raised in song reaches us, and Paige tugs my arm to walk faster. It starts as a faint harmony carried on the night breeze, growing stronger with each step until it envelops us in festive cheer.

The square itself is a scene straight out of a Christmas card. Families huddle together, songbooks clutched in gloved hands. Children with rosy cheeks crane their necks to see over the crowd, their eyes wide with excitement. At the center of it all stands the town Christmas tree, a towering evergreen laden with ornaments that catch and reflect the light, creating a dazzling display.

There are so many people, all pressed close together. My instinct is to retreat, to find a quiet corner where I can observe without being observed. Paige’s hand slips into mine, and she intertwines our fingers. Our eyes meet, and I silently ask if this is okay. I know she’s the one who grabbed my hand, but I want to know if she’s okay with it. If she’s okay being seen together—as in interested in one another—because the news will spread.

When I glance down at her, Paige is looking at me with a soft smile that makes my breath catch in my throat. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to.

I’ll take that as a yes. She’s good with this.

So am I.

As the crowd breaks into “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” Paige leans into me, her body a warm presence against my side. I find myself relaxing, the tension seeping out of my shoulders. The beauty of the moment washes over me—the harmony of voices raised in song, the gentle fall of snowflakes catching the light, the sense of community that seems to radiate from every face in the crowd.

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel like I’m a part of something. It’s that same feeling I had in the parade planning meeting. It’s almost like … like I matter.

As the final notes of the carol fade into the night, I know that something has shifted inside me. The walls I’ve built around myself, the ones that have kept me safe but also kept me isolated, are beginning to crumble. And as I look down at Paige, her face glowing in the soft light of the Christmas tree, I realize that I’m not afraid of what might rush in to fill the space.