Prologue
“I hate Christmas. And I hate all of you!”
The back door slams behind me so hard, the sound seems to echo off the moon. But I don’t look back. I run full speed into the Vermont wilderness, wanting to get as far away from my family and this cabin as possible.
How can they act like everything’s okay? Why haven’t they even mentioned his name? Isn’t there a gaping hole in their chests too? Mine first appeared as a sliver of worry when my dad got sick, but when he died this past summer, it morphed into a painful crater, and I haven’t been able to breathe since. It’s been hard enough surviving these past few months without him, but at Christmas? It’s nearly impossible.
My dad loved Christmas. He always told me that while Christmas was a day for miracles, Christmas Eve was a night for magic. And my dad had a thing for magic. Not the wand-waving kind, but the sort of magic you feel on the edge of your subconsciousness, or as a small tease in your gut. Magic that got your imagination flowing, and helped you see the world from a different perspective. I’ve never felt that kind of magic before, but I know it’s out there, because I believe in my dad.
Tonight is Christmas Eve. And because of my dad, I’m still looking for that magic. I was clinging to the hope I’d find it up here in Vermont—his favorite place—but I can’t feel it anywhere. I can’t feel him anywhere.
I let my anger and sadness fuel me as I race deeper and deeper into the woods. Normally I’d be scared to be out here at this time of night, but nothing matters anymore. Running face first into the darkness doesn’t mean a thing when you’ve been living without any light.
My mom calls for me, but I don’t stop. Tears blur my vision, but I don’t slow down. The red party dress I didn’t want to wear snags on a branch, but I just pump my legs faster. I don’t care that it’s ruined. Everything else is.
Something looming ahead catches my eye and I start to slow down. It’s a large Vermont elm—the same as the one in the painting we have hanging above our mantel in the living room back at home. Trees were one of my dad’s favorite things to paint.
It’s the perfect place to stop and be alone for a second. But as I get closer, I realize that someone is already sitting at its roots. My heart jolts with fear, but then it settles when I realize that the person is just a boy around my age. The moon is bright tonight, and I can just make out his features. Or, at least, I can see that he looks about as happy as I do. He’s plopped on the ground with his shoulders sagging and his head propped in his hands.
Curiosity, interest, and something else I can’t quite describe pass through me, and without thinking, I reach for the camera hanging around my neck and snap his photo. My dad got it for me last Christmas, and I never go anywhere without it.
The flash is loud and bright in the inky darkness, and his head immediately snaps up.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, clearly annoyed.
I back up a step. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to bother you. I take pictures of everything—”
“You can’t just take a person’s picture without permission!”
“You’re right. I’ll delete it. Sorry.”
I make a show of deleting the photo, but I don’t really. I know it’s wrong, but for some reason, I can’t get myself to press that button.
When I look back up, he’s glaring at me. “Who are you, anyway?” he asks.
“My name’s Birdie. My family rented Mistletoe Cabin for Christmas.”
His eyes narrow. “No shit. Really?”
“Have you heard of it?” I ask, confused.
“Everyone’s heard of it. It’s got to be the biggest house in the whole state.”
“Oh.”
An awkward silence descends as we take each other in. His hair is dark and pretty short, but there’s a wayward curl falling directly in the middle of his forehead. He has large brown eyes and thick, sharp eyebrows that make him look angry. I squirm a little under his gaze, not used to such intensity.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks, still sounding annoyed. “It’s nearly midnight.”
His tone finally gets to me and my hackles rise. “I could ask you the same question.”
For a moment, we scowl at each other, as if neither of us want to break.
But finally he sighs and looks away. “I’m thinking.”
“Oh.” Suddenly nervous, my reply tumbles out. “I was running and I saw this tree. I was just going to sit down and rest for a while.”
“This is my thinking tree,” he replies. “I’m not on some fancy vacation. I actually live here. And I’d like to be alone.”
Our eyes meet and lock, and all the hurt and frustration from the past few months comes rushing forward. To my horror, my lip starts quivering and my eyes water. The last thing I want is for this boy to see me crying, so I turn, prepared to run off. But before I can take a step, his voice stops me.
“Wait, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a really bad day.”
I almost leave without responding. But the hurt in his voice is something I can relate to. So after wiping my face, I turn back around. “It’s okay. I’ve had a bad day too.”
He regards me for a moment. Those laser-focused eyes take in my ripped party dress and tearstained face. My cheeks pink again under the scrutiny, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. After a moment, he pats the space beside him. After a beat, I walk forward.
“I’m Chase.” A gloved hand appears in my line of vision as I sit down. “I live above the pastry shop in town. Well, if you can even call it a town. It’s not much to look at these days.”
I shake his hand. “Hi, Chase. I’m Birdie. I like your thinking tree. Thanks for sharing it.”
This gets a smile out of him, and I feel my cheeks go from pink to red. His smile softens his whole face. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen—curved up on one side but flat on the other.
“So what are you thinking about?” I ask.
As if a thundercloud has just moved in over his head, his whole body tenses and his shoulders curl up around himself. “I don’t know if I want to say. It’s pretty embarrassing and you’d probably just laugh. Everyone else did.”
“I wouldn’t laugh. My mother always tells me I’m a great listener.”
She says this because I used to sit and listen to my father’s stories for hours on end. He loved to talk, and I loved to watch him talk. The thought of my father brings a fresh wave of tears to my eyes, but I force myself back into the moment.
Chase side-eyes me, and I know he’s deciding whether or not he wants to share. After a long moment of silence, he sighs, putting his head back in his hands. “My girlfriend broke up with me today.”
“On Christmas Eve?!” I gasp.
“That’s not even the worst part.”
Okay, this is getting good. “What’s the worst part?”
He rubs his hands over his cheeks, then wiggles his fingers. It’s obvious that this is the part he’s worried I’ll laugh at. I clamp my mouth shut, determined not to make a peep no matter what it is.
“She broke up with me because … she said I’m a bad kisser.”
Oh my God. “Wow. Are you?”
His head snaps to me, offended. “No!”
“Oh.”
He huffs out a breath. “I thought she was a bad kisser too, but I didn’t go tellin’ everyone about it.”
“She told everyone?!” I’m scandalized.
“Everyone.”
“Whoa.”
I don’t know what else to say. These are problems I don’t have. Chase looks totally miserable, and I don’t blame him. If that happened to me, I’d probably switch schools.
I reach out and put a hand on his arm. “I don’t know much about kissing, so I can’t help you there. But I don’t think you should worry about this girl. She sounds mean. So even if the kiss had been a good one, she’d probably just be mean about something else eventually. You should find a nice girl to date instead.”
He blinks at me. “You’re right. She is mean. I don’t even really like her that much.”
I nod once, then settle back into the tree. “Then you shouldn’t think about her. Especially on Christmas Eve.”
He smiles that curved smile at me again. “Okay, I won’t.”
A light snow starts to fall around us. I hold open my palm, catching a few flakes on my fingertips.
“So why were you running?” he asks. “Guy trouble?”
“No. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
He seems surprised by this. “What do you have to be sad about, then? If your family rented a place like Mistletoe Cabin, you’re probably getting some decent gifts this year.”
I debate on whether or not to tell him. It’s hard for me to talk about my dad without crying. But Chase just opened up to me, so I guess I should return the favor. I turn to him, focusing on the curl on his forehead. “This is my first Christmas without my dad. He died over the summer.”
He sucks in a breath. “Shit.”
“And that’s not even the worst part.”
“What’s the worst part?” he asks, his voice notably softer.
“I was with him when he died. He told me he loved me, and I didn’t say it back. I wanted to, but I was so scared that I couldn’t get the words out. I froze, and then he was gone. I was too late.”
I close my eyes, thinking of the moment right before he drifted away forever. His eyes were fading but they locked on mine with strength I know he didn’t have. And then he spoke his last words: “Don’t … forget the … magic. It’s in the woods …” He squeezed my hand while I blinked away tears. “I love you … Bird.”
He held on for a few more seconds. A few more precious moments so I could respond, but I froze, already terrified of a future without him.
“Shit,” Chase says again.
“My family doesn’t even know it happened. And I was running away from them tonight because I just couldn’t handle all the celebrating without my dad. Everyone was exchanging presents and laughing like everything’s normal, but things will never be normal again. No one was even talking about him—not even my cousin Dasha, and she knows how sad I’ve been. All she cares about is the new camera I got her.”
I bring my knees up and hide my face, not wanting Chase to see the fresh wave of tears filling my eyes.
“I’m an idiot,” he says after a moment.
“Huh?”
“My problem is so dumb compared to yours. Here I am going on and on about some girl, and you actually have a real reason to be sad. I’m an idiot.”
A small laugh escapes me. “You’re not an idiot.”
“And you’re right, you know.”
I peek up at him. “About what?”
He leans down so he’s looking into my eyes. The intensity of his stare ensures that I don’t look away. “That Christmas will never be normal for you again. But that’s okay, because there’s no such thing as normal. Things in life change all the time. You just have to do your best to stay in the moment. That’s what my mom says to me, anyway.”
I sniffle, wiping under my eyes. “I don’t how to do that.”
“Here. I’ll show you.”
He holds out his hand, letting some snow fall into it. He watches it intently, then looks back up at me.
“You see?” he says.
“See what?”
“Before each snowflake melts, there’s a split second where you can just make out its design. It happens real quick, but if you focus hard enough, you can catch it. Sometimes when something good is happening, you have to pause to notice it. You have to live in that feeling for a second.” He shrugs. “I think that’s what my mom means by staying in the moment.”
I stare at him, then hold my hand out, letting tiny snowflakes fall into the center of my palm. When I focus on them, I realize Chase is right. For a brief moment, I’m able see the unique pattern of each snowflake before they’re gone. It feels like slowing down time. It’s beautiful. It’s …
“Magic,” I say to Chase.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not going to make the loss of your dad hurt any less. But this way, you can still smile at something in the here and now. Enjoy the little things as much as you can. You’ll be okay.”
I look out at the snow falling around us. There are millions of snowflakes. Millions of chances for something good to happen. No, things won’t be normal again. And I’ll always miss my dad. But maybe I’ll find a new normal eventually. Maybe I can collect enough small moments to feel more like myself.
I turn to Chase, feeling more hopeful than I have in months. “Thank you.”
He smiles that smile at me again, and this time, it makes something inside me flutter. But before he can say anything else, I throw myself into his arms, wanting him to know that I’m so much more grateful than words can express. He’s given me the first breath of fresh air I’ve had since my father passed.
After a second, he lifts his arms and hugs me back. He feels like fire on a cold night, and I snuggle into him a little. Then I do as he instructed and close my eyes, basking in the moment. I know instinctively it’s a hug that I’ll never forget.
“You can tell your dad you love him any time, you know,” he says softly. “I’m sure he’s listening.”
That’s true. I tilt my head up, looking up at the stars. “I love you, Dad,” I whisper to the wind.
I close my eyes, imaging my dad is there and listening. Something tells me that he is, and more relief pours into me.
Chase suddenly stiffens in my arms.
“What is it?” I ask, pulling back.
“Don’t move,” he whispers.
Fear ratchets through me at his tone. “What is it?”
“There’s a reindeer behind you. It’s staring right at us.”
A reindeer? In Vermont? Holding my breath, I twist around slowly, and the sight of the enormous, majestic creature floods my field of vision. “That’s not a reindeer,” I whisper quietly, completely in awe. “It’s a moose!”
The moose suddenly makes a throaty grunting sound at the same time it takes a few steps forward. I open my mouth to scream, but Chase clamps his hand around it.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispers. “I heard moose can be vicious.”
I nod, keeping my wide eyes on the moose.
“Back away slowly,” Chase says as we rise to our feet. “Now when I say run, just … RUN!”
I don’t even think. I just start sprinting through the forest as fast as I can. Chase stays by my side, even though I’m sure he’s faster than me. After a few minutes I look behind us, but luckily the moose didn’t follow. It’s quiet, but my chest is heaving so hard that I start laughing. Chase is beside me, and when he hears me, he starts laughing too. We must look ridiculous, laughing and running in the woods together.
I stop and lean against a tree, unable to stop giggling. “I can’t believe you called it a reindeer. Don’t you live here? You must see moose all the time.”
Chase is still laughing too, his dark eyes bright with mirth. “I don’t know. It’s Christmas! Reindeer on the brain. You would have made the same mistake.”
“No way. My dad loved moose. They were one of his favorite things to paint. There’s paintings of Vermont moose all over my house.”
We both start laughing again, but when our eyes lock, and the laughter drifts away with the wind.
Something strange happens in the next few seconds. It’s impossible, but it feels like the moment is physically closing in on us. Despite the weather, a warm chill washes over my skin, and a shimmery sound starts up in my ears. It’s scary but wonderful, and I’ve never felt anything like it.
I don’t know Chase. I just met him fifteen minutes ago, but deep in my gut, I know there’s something inside him that has intrinsically connected to something inside of me. It could be the intensity of his gaze and the way it makes me feel. Or it could be the fact that he gave me hope for my future, and my soul is grateful for it. But something tells me that’s not everything. There’s something unexplainable here too. When I realize what it is, my heart pounds like a drum.
“Magic …”
For the first time in my life, I feel magic.
Chase’s answering smile tells me that I must have said the word out loud. He nods, as if he knows what I mean. “I feel it too.”
He takes a few steps toward me, and when he reaches for my hand, I don’t stop him. Even through our gloves, I can sense the buzzing of his skin as his hand connects with mine.
When we lock eyes this time, something intangible forms between us and clicks into place.
I know we’re going to kiss before it happens. He moves in closer, and just before our lips touch, I picture a snowflake. I close my eyes and drift into that moment between breaths, basking in the sweet anticipation of what’s about to happen to me—my first kiss.
When his lips finally touch mine, I’m already floating high.
I’ve imagined being kissed a thousand times, but it didn’t prepare me for the enormity of the real thing. For the first few seconds, I freeze, just like I always do. But Chase is patient. His lips move slowly across mine, encouraging and enticing me forward at my own pace. Something inside me starts to melt, and I finally press my lips back against his, wanting more of the glorious high that’s releasing inside me.
Our mouths move together in a dreamlike state, and in my head, I see bursts of flickering stars. Kissing Chase is enchanting, and my whole body is hyper-focused on him and the new sensations coursing through me. I move closer at the same time he does, our newly formed connection growing stronger by the second. Our lips start moving in sync, seamless, as if we’ve kissed a thousand times. When his tongue swipes across my lower lip, it leaves a trail of fire and something in my heart changes. Like the little girl inside of it has grown taller and wiser.
I open my mouth wider, wanting to let him in—
“BIRDIE! WHERE ARE YOU?!”
Chase and I rip apart, both gasping for breath. The air around us is still thick and alive, and I wonder for a second if I imagined my cousin’s voice.
“BIRDIE!”
Nope. That’s definitely her. I shake my head to try to clear the fog. “It’s Dasha. My cousin.”
“Oh … okay,” he manages, swallowing audibly.
I’m suddenly shy. Overwhelmed. I have no idea what to do or say, like I’m back to being frozen. But I still smile, because above all, I’m happy. And it’s all because of Chase.
Backing away, I give him a different smile. One that feels foreign on my face. A woman’s smile, maybe. He responds by smiling back, and I know that I’ll compare every other smile to his from here on out.
“BIRDIE! WHERE ARE YOU?!”
“I’ve got to go.”
His mouth is moving as if he can’t get words out fast enough. Like he, too, is freezing. What a turn the night has taken! What a change I have made. I feel like a new person.
So just before I turn to go, I say something bold.
“Merry Christmas, Chase. You’re definitely not a bad kisser.”
