Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

EASTON

The keys jangled in my frozen fingers as I unlocked the library door, my breath puffing out in little clouds. I hurried inside, grateful for the rush of warm air that greeted me along with the familiar scent of books and pine.

As I made my way through the stacks, straightening a few volumes here and there, my mind drifted to Weston. I wondered if he was awake yet, probably not given he’d worked a late shift at the fire station the night before. The thought of his bed head and sleepy blue eyes made my heart flutter.

“Get it together, Easton,” I chided myself softly. “He's your best friend, nothing more.”

But oh, how I wished it could be more. I imagined his strong arms around me, those full, kissable lips brushing mine under the mistletoe. The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel the warmth of his body, smell his woodsy cologne.

With a sigh, I shook my head, dispelling the daydream. “Focus on work,” I muttered, moving to the circulation desk.

I busied myself with shelving returns, trying to lose myself in the familiar routine. But every book about love or friendship made me think of Weston, his laugh, his kindness, the way he always knew how to cheer me up.

I leaned against the shelf, letting my mind wander back to the day we met in kindergarten. It was the first day of school, and I was terrified, clutching my dinosaur lunchbox like a lifeline. That's when I saw him a whirlwind of blond hair and infectious laughter, running around the classroom like he owned the place.

“Hi! I'm Weston!” he'd declared, skidding to a stop in front of me. “Wanna be friends?”

I'd nodded shyly, and just like that, we were inseparable. East and West, as our teacher had jokingly called us when assigning seats. The nickname stuck, and so did our friendship.

As we grew, our differences became more apparent. I was the quiet bookworm, always with my nose in a novel, while he was the life of every party, excelling in sports and making friends effortlessly. But somehow, our bond only grew stronger.

He never let our different interests come between us. He'd drag me to football games, promising to take me to the bookstore afterward. And I'd coax him into movie marathons, bribing him with homemade cookies and the promise of choosing our next outdoor adventure.

The jingle of bells at the library entrance startled me from my brooding. I turned to see Laura bustling in, her cheeks rosy from the cold and her arms laden with a tray of steaming cups.

“Merry almost-Christmas, Easton!” she chirped, setting the tray on the circulation desk. “I come bearing liquid joy.”

I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. “You're a lifesaver, Laura. Thanks.”

She handed me a mug of cocoa, eyeing the boxes strewn all over the counter and stacked on the floor under the desk. “So, how many new decorations did you end up buying? I swear this place gets more festive every year.”

I felt a blush creeping up my neck. “Just a few,” I mumbled, taking a sip to hide my embarrassment.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Uh-huh. And I bet you were humming carols the whole time, weren't you?”

“I was not,” I protested weakly, knowing full well she was right.

She laughed, nudging my shoulder. “Face it, my friend. You're a Christmas elf trapped in a librarian's body.”

I chuckled. “Guilty as charged, I suppose.”

As we sipped our cocoa, my gaze drifted to the window. Soft, fluffy snowflakes had begun to fall, dancing on the breeze before settling on the ground. The sight filled me with a bittersweet longing.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” I murmured, more to myself than Laura.

She followed my gaze and nodded. “It really is. Got any big plans for the holidays?”

My heart gave a little flutter at the thought. “Just the usual. Spending time with my parents and Weston.”

“Ah, Weston,” Laura said knowingly. “Your favorite part of the season, I bet.”

I ducked my head, focusing intently on the drink in my hand. “He's my best friend,” I said softly. “Of course I'm looking forward to seeing him.”

As she moved away to start her work, I found myself lost in thought again. The holidays with Weston were always magical—movie marathons, baking disasters, snowball fights. For a few precious days, I could pretend that the warmth in his eyes meant something more.

I sighed, watching the snowflakes swirl. This year would be no different, I told myself firmly. I'd cherish every moment with him, even if it wasn't quite the way I longed for. After all, wasn't that what Christmas was about? Being grateful for what you have?

Still, as I turned back to my work, I couldn't quite silence the tiny voice in my heart whispering, “ What if? ”

The warm aroma of roasting chicken and herbs filled the kitchen as I diced vegetables, stealing glances at Weston. He was stirring a pot of gravy, his brow furrowed in concentration. The sight made my heart skip a beat.

He looked up and grinned when he caught my stare. “Careful not to chop your finger along with those carrots,” he teased.

I felt a blush creep up my neck. “Just making sure you don't burn the gravy,” I quipped back, earning a playful eye roll.

Mom bustled in, patting both our shoulders. “What would I do without my two sous chefs?” she said fondly.

I watched as she fussed over Weston, showing him how to whisk the gravy just right and a familiar warmth spread through my chest. It wasn't just because of my feelings for my friend, but because of the beautiful bond my family had forged with him over the years.

I remembered the first time he had come over for dinner, back when we were in second grade. He'd been so quiet, his eyes wide as he took in our cozy kitchen, the laughter, the casual affection. It was such a stark contrast to his own home, where raised voices and the clinking of bottles were more common than family meals.

Weston’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Remember when we tried to make dinner that one Christmas?”

I groaned dramatically. “How could I forget? We nearly burned down the kitchen.”

“Hey, that was mostly your fault, bookworm.” He laughed. “You got distracted reading the cookbook.”

Our banter continued as we finished preparing the meal. It felt like home in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that I’d grown up there and everything to do with the people in it.

As we sat down to dinner, the familiar rhythm of conversation and laughter filled the air. Dad regaled us with tales from his latest project, while Mom shared gossip from her book club. Weston chimed in with stories from the firehouse, his eyes sparkling as he described a daring rescue.

I found myself watching him more than listening, mesmerized by the way his hands moved as he talked, the curve of his smile. When he caught my eye, I quickly looked away, focusing intently on my plate.

Mom cleared her throat. “Your father and I have some news,” she began, glancing at Dad.

I felt a flutter of nerves. “What kind of news?”

“Well,” Dad said, setting down his fork, “your Aunt Lily took a fall last week. She's broken her hip.” His brow furrowed with concern as he finished.

My heart sank. “Oh no, is she okay?”

Mom nodded. “She's out of the hospital now, but she needs some help while she recovers. So...” She paused, looking between Weston and me. “Your father and I have decided to spend Christmas in Wisconsin with her this year.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. Christmas had always been our special family time. The thought of spending it without them felt wrong somehow.

I caught my best friend’s stare across the table, seeing my own mix of emotions reflected there. Despite the pang in my chest, his presence was comforting. At least I'd still have him, I thought. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be a total loss after all.

Weston's sea-blue eyes flickered with disappointment as they met mine, but in an instant, his expression shifted. A determined grin spread across his face, his silver lip piercing catching the light.

“Well, that's a bummer,” he said, his tone light despite the undercurrent of disappointment. “But hey, East, looks like we'll have to step up our game this year, huh? Maybe I can finally convince you to try that cliff diving Santa thing I've been talking about.”

I couldn't help but chuckle, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. “Nice try, West. My feet are staying firmly on the ground, thank you very much.”

Mom reached across the table, patting my hand. “We're so sorry, boys. We know how much you both look forward to our Christmas traditions.”

“It's not your fault, Mom,” I assured her, though my heart still felt heavy.

Dad nodded; his eyes warm. “We'll make it up to you when we get back. How about a big New Year's bash instead? We can invite the whole town if you want.”

Weston's eyes lit up at that. “Now you're talking! We could have a bonfire, maybe set up some of those extreme winter games I've been reading about...”

As he launched into an enthusiastic description of his plans, I found myself smiling despite my disappointment. Trust West to find the silver lining in any situation. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be what we'd planned, but with him by my side, I had a feeling it might turn out to be memorable in its own way.

As we cleared the table after dinner, Weston bumped his shoulder against mine. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “We're gonna make this the best Christmas ever, just you and me. I promise.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. “Yeah?” I asked, hating how hopeful I sounded.

“Absolutely.” He grinned, flicking some soap suds at me. “We'll start new traditions. Maybe I'll even let you read me one of those boring classics you love so much.”

I gasped in mock offense, splashing him back. “Boring? I'll have you know that A Christmas Carol is a timeless masterpiece!”

Weston laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made my stomach flip. “Alright, alright. I'll give it a chance. But only if you promise to go sledding with me.”

I hesitated, thinking of the last time he'd convinced me to go sledding. We'd ended up in a snowbank, tangled together, his face inches from mine. The memory still made my cheeks flush.

“Deal,” I said finally, trying to ignore the way my heart raced at the thought.

As we finished the dishes, a comfortable silence fell between us. I couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way the soft kitchen light played across his features.

He was strong and lean, his muscles rippling beneath his fitted Henley as he dried the last of the dishes. The fabric clung to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, hinting at the toned body I knew lay underneath. His blond hair was tousled, as always, falling across his forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to brush it back.

The light caught on his lip ring, drawing my attention to his full, perfectly shaped lips. I quickly averted my gaze, only to find myself captivated by his sea-blue eyes. They were like the ocean after a storm—deep, intense, and ever-changing. Long lashes framed those mesmerizing eyes, casting shadows on his high cheekbones.

As he reached up to put away a glass, the neck of his shirt shifted slightly, revealing a sliver of tanned skin and the edge of the tattoo I knew was inked over his heart. I knew every detail of that tattoo, a black compass with the E and W in red ink. He'd gotten it on his eighteenth birthday, dragging me along to the tattoo parlor. “East and West,” he'd said with a grin. “So I'll always find my way back to you.”

The memory made my chest ache with longing. If only he knew how much those words meant to me, how often I'd replayed them in my mind.

“Hey!” His voice broke through my reverie. “Where'd you go just now?”

I blinked, realizing I'd been staring. “Oh, um, nowhere,” I stammered, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Just thinking about Christmas, I guess.”

His expression softened, a warm smile tugging at his lips. “It's gonna be great, East. I promise,” he said, his voice low and sincere. He stepped closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch seeped through my sweater, making my skin tingle. “I know it's not what we planned,” he continued, “but maybe this is our chance to make some new memories. Just us.”

My heart raced at his words. “Just us.” The possibilities swirled in my mind, equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“Yeah,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. “That sounds... nice.”

He tilted his head, a devilish smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “Nice? Come on, East. Do you trust me?”

I didn’t even have to think about my response. “Of course I do.”

“Good! Then leave all the planning to me. I promise this is going to be the best Christmas you’ve ever had.”