One Little Chance (Sweet River)

Chapter 20

DECEMBER 15TH, 2023

“ L et’s go for a drive,” Jordan bypassed a greeting, standing on my front porch. It was a few days into December, and the temperature had plummeted. We were both bundled up in our coats. “I’ve got a thermos of hot chocolate in the truck.”

This man and his thermoses of hot chocolate. I grinned. “You know I can’t resist a Christmas lights drive.”

We’d gone for our traditional drives with hot cocoa to see the houses strung with Christmas lights since we were sixteen and had finally gotten our driver’s licenses, so we had our established Christmas lights routes by now. I was surprised when he turned left from my driveway instead of right.

“Heading to the school?” I asked.

“Heading toward our house ,” he said with a twinkle in his eye that put the decorated houses we passed to shame.

Our house . By that, I knew he meant our mutual dream house. The one we both would park in front of just to think. Or dream.

“As much as we love that place, it is never decorated,” I said. No one lived there, so no one ever decorated it.

He turned on the oldies Christmas radio station. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” pulsed through the speakers.

“Let’s drive by anyway. Just to see.”

My breath caught in my chest as we pulled up outside the house. It was decorated straight out of a Hallmark Christmas movie—strung with lights, wreaths on the windows and front door, and a pathway of lights lining the sidewalk path to the front porch.

“ Oh .” My heart sank a little. “Someone bought it.”

Mine and Jordan’s future didn’t need those old dreams to come true. All we needed was each other. Any house would do. I still couldn’t help but feel a little ache, knowing someone else would call it theirs now when for so long, we used to joke it was ours .

Jordan put his truck in park. “It was about time someone snatched it up.”

I grabbed the thermos and took a warm sip. “Let’s keep driving. The family inside might feel weirded out with our truck idling out here.”

“Let’s go say hi and wish them Merry Christmas.” Jordan unbuckled his seatbelt.

I scrunched my nose at the idea and shook my head no.

“What? Come on. It’s Christmas, Rogers.” Jordan tilted his head toward the house.

“Jordan—” I groaned.

“You’re basically a neighbor living down the street from them. I think it’d be nice. We can tell them how much this house meant to us.” Jordan was so cutely earnest. He somehow convinced me. I hesitantly slid out of the truck into the blustery cool night.

I followed Jordan through the front yard winter wonderland and onto the front porch. Before I could change my mind, Jordan was knocking on the door.

No answer. I tugged on my scarf. Jordan shrugged and said, “Why don’t we…” And, to my shock, he pushed the front door open.

“Jordan!” I gasped, looking at him in shock, then turned toward the open door. As my eyes fell toward the entrance, I saw a trail of flickering candles paving a path toward an empty living room.

My eyes were wide and round as I glanced back toward Jordan.

“Follow the candle path,” Jordan whispered. “It’s for you, Sophie.”

As I stepped into the house, I realized the walls were covered like a scrapbook. Pictures from mine and Jordan’s childhood growing up together, old notes we’d passed back and forth during classes, medals from runs we’d done together, pictures from proms and formals, from the day he got his first truck, and letters, receipts, and ticket stubs hung on the wall.

There were Christmas lights laced through the memories and a Christmas tree aglow and decorated in the corner of the room.

I walked slowly through the walls of memories around me, my hands grazing the shiny photos or crumbled paper. My mind was spinning. My heart was reeling.

“That,” Jordan pointed to an old, yellowing note, “was from before we were together and Andy Dodson was planning to ask you out after school. Do you remember I passed you that note asking you to stay after class and help me with a project? I was terrified of losing you.” I remembered that day, his young, nervous energy. “I had good sense even then.”

“This is a receipt from one of our Dairy Queen ice cream dates.” He started to laugh. “There were piles of ice cream-related receipts.”

“We like sweet treats,” I said, my voice mystified. Placing my fingers to my lips, I stopped at a photo of young us posing in front of a cabin. “Here we are at summer camp.”

Jordan grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the far wall at the back of the room. “This wall here is my favorite.”

That wall had photos from this past year—every memory since I’d come back home. He’d printed out some of our early text messages and call logs. The receipt from our accidental Valentine’s Day date. A photo from one of the Saturday morning soccer practices. Our tickets from the Sweet River Summer Festival.

My hand went straight to my chest, trying to hold myself together. “Oh, Jordan.” I turned to find him on one knee, kneeling before me lit by candlelight.

“I love our past. What we had. Our foundation,” he said, gesturing toward the walls behind us. “But, Sophie, I’m even more in love with what we have right now . I’m excited about the two of us tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. I want more of this.” He pointed to the wall in front of us with the photos from this year. “ Forever.”

I collapsed into his arms, kneeling before him, too. “Is this really happening?” My voice was shaky, my hands were shaky.

He pulled out a little black box and popped it open between us, inside was a shiny, silver ring. “It’s really happening, Rogers. I talked with the owners of this house, told them our story, and it’s ours if we want it. They like us so much, they even let me cover this place in Christmas lights and Polaroids.”

“It’s ours if we want it?” I whispered in a tone of awe. My heart was about to beat straight out of my chest and into Jordan’s hands.

“Do you want it, Sophie?” He held the ring up higher. “Will you marry me?”

I nodded, breathless. “Yes,” I said, tears falling from my eyes onto the shiny hardwood floors beneath us. “Yes. I want this forever, too.”

He took my shaking hand and slid the ring on my left finger. It was sparkly and beautiful, but even more so, it was a tangible promise, a hopeful sign of what was to come.

“This is a dream,” I said, breathless.

“ You’re my dream, Sophie. You always have been. Without you, none of it matters. It’s this,” he ran his finger over my bottom lip, “smile of yours, this heart of yours, the way you keep me guessin’ that makes my everyday life become a dream come true. I don’t want any of it if there’s no you.”

“Oh, there’s a me.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his forehead against mine. The cold air from outside breezed into the room. “You got me forever now.”

Jordan reached into his back pocket and pulled out mistletoe, twisting it in his fingers before me with a twinkle in his eye. He held it up over the two of us just like he did all those years ago.

I broke into giggles while he pressed his lips against mine—slow and sweet.

“Of course, you had to bring the mistletoe,” I said between kisses, grabbing his scarf and pulling him in closer.

He dropped the mistletoe to the ground and slid his hands possessively around my waist, my body flat against his. Forever sounded good to me.

Knock, knock. We turned, and there stood his mom and mine in the doorway. I gasped and lifted my left hand to show off my ring. They cheered running toward us, followed behind by the rest of our families. Shoes thudding against what was soon to be our new floors. The faces of those we loved lit by twinkle lights. We talked about getting married in the spring. Maybe April. Maybe May. Ending the night all of us huddled around the front porch.

Past and present mingling together and making something beautiful.