Sprinkle All The Way (Evergreen Lake: Under the Mistletoe)

Chapter 23

twenty-three

NOAH

I’ll never tell Violet this, but adopting Simon has to be my second favorite thing to happen this month. The first being when she arrived in that dive bar. For the last two nights, we’ve brought Simon to the festival with us, where he perches on a chair specifically designed for him. He’s been a hit in his red plaid sweater, helping us to sell the most cookies we’ve ever sold.

I was nervous Bernice would come over and say having him at the stand was a health hazard, but I didn’t see her at all. I wasn’t joking when I said I thought she was waiting for me to mess something up and take the stand away. I’m still unsure if the older members of this town have accepted me like the younger adults have started to.

Yesterday, we went to the pet store and picked up extra toys and a cat tree. It’s been lightly snowing since then, and he hasn’t left the window. He’s sitting upstairs in the apartment now as Violet and I get ready for the cookie decorating contest. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I’m stressed about baking so many sugar cookies for the event. It’s my last chance to show the older members I can do this and won’t ruin their Christmas festival. In theory it should be fine, but I’m never that lucky.

“Um Noah?” Violet calls from the front of the shop where she went to check her phone. It’s been charging out there so it doesn’t get anything on it. With her luck she would drop it right into the batter.

“What?” I call, sliding another batch of cookies in the oven.

The kitchen door swings open, and her head pops out. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, and she’s learned to wear anything besides black when we’re baking. Her white tank has some dough on it, and I take a mental note to order her an apron because she’s going to end up ruining all her clothes if I don’t.

“So my mom texted me and it sounds like the snow isn’t stopping anytime soon,” she tells me, holding up her phone. I can hear a hint of concern in her voice and my heart starts to beat faster.

“How bad?” I ask, my stomach dropping anticipating her answer.

“Bad. Come look,” she says, disappearing into the front.

I follow her, pushing through the door and making a beeline straight for the covered windows. Lifting one of the newspapers away, I see there’s already three feet of snow minimum.

“My mom says they’re talking about canceling the festival tomorrow if it keeps going like this. There’s talk of telling people not to drive,” she says behind me, almost so low I can’t hear her.

The room is getting smaller and the only thing I can hear is my own heart attempting to escape my chest.

“Are you okay?” I hear her ask, and there’s a light touch on my shoulder .

Pushing her hand off my shoulder, my feet take over and move into the kitchen. I hear the door hit the wall as I enter, and she’s yelling something behind me. The kitchen is a mess, different stages of baking scattered around, and I take my anger out on the first batch of cookies I see. I crumble a cookie in my fist, and the warmth of it spreads across my palm before I pound my fists on the table, causing some of the cookies on the cooling rack to fall to the floor.

“Noah, it’s going to be okay,” Violet says, coming up next to me and resting her hand on my back.

“If there’s no festival tomorrow, my final chance to show this town I’m not worthless before opening is gone.” I turn toward her, and my throat feels like it’s closing in on itself as water starts to blur my vision. “These people are never going to let me hire anyone. I don’t know why I tried, this was all a big mistake.”

“I think—” she starts, but I’m too upset to let her get a word in.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine. No big deal. Just go home. I’m done baking if there’s no point. Maybe I won’t open at all. Why would I bother, right? Right. So go home, see your family for Christmas Eve tomorrow.” By the time I’ve finally finished my spiral, I’m standing at the back door and turning one last time before going upstairs. “Bye, Violet.”

I don’t wait to hear her response before I’m running up the stairs and into my apartment. Simon is right where I guessed he would be, staring out the window on his cat tree. I shed my pants and dirty shirt, wanting no trace of baking left on me. I want to curl up and do nothing, cry myself to sleep and forget everything.

My bed is warm when I pull the covers over my head, and I hear a small chirp and pressure by my feet. Popping my head out, I see Simon has joined me. He steps over my legs and nuzzles my face, moving to get beneath the covers with me.

I lift them up, allowing him the room to plop against my chest and roll over. His purring fills the room and I instantly feel better with him next to me.

I pet him until I start to doze off as my heart rate slows. My mind replays what happened over and over again. The furrow of Violet’s eyebrows said she wanted to kill me, and instead of talking things out I ran away.

Wait.

What the fuck am I doing?

My eyes spring open, and Simon grunts when I stop petting him. Throwing the cover off of us, I stumble as I jump out of bed in search of clothes. I put on the nearest pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. Violet is probably already home by now, but maybe she’s still close.

Simon runs out of the room, and I follow him. Right as I cross the threshold into the hallway I run into something. No—not something. Violet.

“Vi?” I ask, stunned to see her, and to have almost knocked her over. My hands are wrapped around her biceps and she’s still dressed in the same outfit from earlier.

“Present,” she rolls her eyes at me. “Are you done throwing your temper tantrum?” she says, lovingly but also hitting me right where I need it.

I drop my head, releasing my grip on her. “Yes. You didn’t leave?” I look at her, arms crossed and shoulders straight.

“I told you the snow was bad, I’m not sure where you thought I was going,” she tells me. “Plus, who was going to hug you once you stopped throwing your pity party?”

“I’m sorry,” I confess.

“I know,” she says, opening her arms for me. “But you need to stop running away. ”

“I know.” I don’t hesitate as I step forward into them. Her plum and floral scent surrounds me and her nails rake along my back and into my hair as I rest my head on her shoulder. I let the disappointment consume me, and there’s no stopping the tears that fall out and onto her shoulder.