Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Jacket

It was cold in Fhirdiad, and Mercedes von Martritz wasn’t picking up her phone.

Annette was used to the first one – Mercie’s hours at the hospital were long and, frankly, difficult to keep track of. Annette was used to a reply to a text at 3 a.m. or a hurried phone call to catch up on a Tuesday morning. But the cold was new. Giant flakes of snow fell around Annette, fat and white and wet. It was like being in a St. Cichol’s Day greeting card, complete with a beat-up blue car gathering white in the background.

Annette hated being in a greeting card, she decided. Especially since her car had broken down.

She rubbed her hands together and pulled her phone out of her hoodie pocket. 2 minutes since her last text. Was it too soon to send another one? Should she get back in her car? At what point did she need to call a tow truck? There were only a few other cars on the road this afternoon – this was evidently not a crowded street for traffic – and Annette had never been one for hitchhiking. But she wasn’t sure what to do.

When one of the cars, sleek and black and expensive, pulled over on the grass to park in front of her, Annette took a startled step back, reaching into her other hoodie pocket and finding only lint.

All her mother’s warnings about the dangers of the big city were playing in her head as the car door opened and a man stepped out, but he stopped a few feet away from her, resting against the back of his car and crossing his arms as he looked her up and down.

“That’s not parking, you know,” he said, nodding to her car, which was resting directly in front of the stairs leading up to the front door of a building. “You planning to move?”

Annette crossed her arms and glared. What, did he think she was stupid?

“I would move, if I could,” she said. “My car’s broken down.”

She was usually much nicer to strangers – strangers that didn’t look at her like she was a particularly annoying worm, that is – but the man didn’t seem to take offense. He lumbered over to her, looking at the car, not her. Annette bit her lip as he kicked at a tire, inspecting the car. He looked about her age, his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail and his face in a frown that was evidently permanent. A traitorous part of Annette’s brain noticed that he smelled like cedarwood and that his fingers were long and nimble as he ran his hand along the roof of her car, and she turned away, embarrassed. She was sure she was a mess from traveling.

“Broken down, how?” he asked. Then, he added before she could answer. “Want me to jump it?”

“Would that work?” Annette said. That question sounded stupid as she said it, so she quickly corrected. “You’d do that for me?”

“Sure. You’re blocking my door.”

The man hurried over to his car before Annette could huff something in reply. She crossed her arms and shivered, looking up at the snow falling down. A fine vacation this was turning out to be.

When the man dropped a bundle into Annette’s arms, she barely caught it. She looked down, surprised that it wasn’t jumper cables, and realized he had tossed her his jacket.

“What’s this?” she asked, even though she knew. It was his jacket.

“My jacket,” the man said helpfully. “Can you pop your hood for me?

“No, I mean,” Annette said, her voice muffled as she leaned into her car. She always had trouble finding the latch. “Why are you giving this to me?”

She ducked out of the car to find the hood already open and the man halfway buried in underneath it. He was, improbably, wearing a plain black t-shirt with no sweater. Annette hardly thought his muscles would do much good for keeping him warm in a snowstorm, but she didn’t say this.

“You looked cold,” he said, barely shrugging. “Did your jacket break down along with your car? Not many people out in Fhiridiad in winter dressed like you.”

“I dress just fine!” Annette protested, but she slipped on the jacket anyways, and the world became a lot warmer. “You’re awfully rude for a helpful stranger.”

“Who says I’m helpful?” the helpful stranger asked. “I told you already, you’re in my way.” He popped his head out from underneath the hood and glared at her. “Wait until I say to turn your car on,” he instructed.

Annette crossed her arms and glared, not bothering to tell him that she knew how to jump a car, thank you very much.

In truth, she usually had to google it.

Still, the stranger seemed to know what he was doing, and in the end, jump starting Annette’s car was exactly what she needed. She squealed with delight as her rundown old clunker revved back to life, and she jumped out of her car, grinning towards the stranger’s car.

“Thank you so much!” she said as he came back towards her. “It worked!”

“Yeah, extra St. Cichol’s Day presents for me, or whatever,” the stranger said, taking his jumper cables and slamming the car’s hood shut. “Don’t park here in the future, okay? It’s not a parking spot.”

“I told you already,” Annette said. “My friend doesn’t even live here, my car just happened to break down in front of –”

“Sorry, I have to take this,” the stranger said, frowning at his phone and holding up a finger. “Yeah? Yeah. Well, sorry, I didn’t realize Ingrid was the soul of punctuality all of the sudden!” He rolled his eyes to Annette, as if she would conspire with him against this Ingrid if asked. “I said I’m coming! I had some dumb stuff I needed to take care of!” he snapped into the phone. He reached into his car and grabbed a bag, and disappeared into the apartment building.

“Dumb stuff?” Annette repeated to herself, frowning. “Well, Happy St. Cichol’s Day to you, too, buster!”

She shook it off as she drove away – she was less than 10 minutes away from Mercie’s house, and there was no need to ever think about that man again as long as she lived.

She was two blocks away by the time she realized she was still wearing his jacket.

***

The Handkerchief 

“It was so embarrassing, Mercie!” Annette wailed, not for the first time while telling that story. “And I’m sure he thinks I’m an idiot who doesn’t know anything about anything.”

“Oh, Annie, I wouldn’t worry about that. The important thing is that you got here,” Mercedes said, waving her hand comfortingly in Annette’s direction. “And I’m sure you’ll never see him again.”

“That’s true,” Annette said, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she bent over to see the cookies she was decorating. Some of the gingerbread had crooked smiles, but she hoped no one at the party would notice. 

“Oh, I’m so excited you made it!” Mercedes said with a giggle. “St. Cichol’s Day in Fhirdiad! It’ll be just like old times at school.”

“It will,” Annette said, grinning. “Although, I guess I was never actually in Fhirdiad for the holidays. I always went home to Dominic.”

In truth, she’d never been away from her hometown for St. Cichol’s Day. She’d moved back there after passing the bar and had gotten a job helping a kindly bookkeeper in his used bookstore, and even if she missed living in Fhirdiad sometimes, she knew she was needed in her hometown. She already missed the lights in the town square and cheerful carolers in the evening, and Fhirdiad’s wind and snow was too aggressive to truly feel magical. But Annette’s mother had announced that she was going on a cruise with her new boyfriend over the holidays, and Annette wasn’t eager to join. She tried to remind herself that Mercedes was saving her from a holiday alone in her apartment, not stealing her from her beloved town for the season.

Mercedes knew none of this interior struggle, or if she did, she was too polite to mention it. She cheerfully listed all the things she wanted to do and people she wanted Annette to meet while she was in town, all while slinging cookie batter around the kitchen with terrifying efficiency.

 “I can’t wait for you to meet Sylvain – he’s hosting the party tomorrow, although he said he and his roommate might drop by to pick up the cookies,” Mercedes sang as she flipped through the recipe book to find the next batch they were making. “Do you mind sifting the flour, Annie? Two and a half cups.”

“You’ve been dating, what – five months now?” Annette asked. She reached for a mixing bowl and carefully began measuring out the right amount of flour.

“Eight! Can you believe – oh! I think I hear him,” Mercedes dropped her spoon with an adorable amount of excitement. “I’ll go get the door. Don’t mind me!”

Annette had always thought of her friend as the mature one in the group, so it was strange but sweet to see her giggly and nervous. She smiled to herself as Mercedes disappeared out of the kitchen in her small apartment. She heard voices at the door – Mercedes talking brightly to two male voices, one much louder and boisterous than the other. And, Annette noted, much more flirtatious.

“– got here a bit early – hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all! The cookies aren’t done but Annie’s in the kitchen if you want to help her pack them up, Felix.”

Annette smiled to herself. It was nice hearing Mercedes so happy. Felix must have been Sylvain’s roommate – Mercedes had described him as “a real sweetheart” and “such a good kid” in her texts to Annette. Annette smiled wistfully to herself as she hummed a holiday carol and measured out more flour. Mercedes was settling into a new life with new friends in Fhirdiad. What more could she want for her best friend in the whole world?

“I thought I knew all the verses to ‘Jolly St. Cichol.’ Guess I was wrong.”

“Bah!” Annette cried, swinging around towards the voice. She took one look at the figure standing in the doorway, one eyebrow raised as he fiddled with the sleeves on his hoodie, and revised her earlier statement: “Gah!!” she cried.

“Oh, huh. Car girl.” The handsome stranger – no, she needed a new name for him – the villainous stranger walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “Guess you made it to your destination. Does St. Cichol turn into a dragon in your version, or did I mishear that part?”

“What are you doing here?” Annette spluttered when she finally found her voice. It wasn’t the most polite question to Mercie’s guests, but it also wasn’t polite to sneak up on unsuspecting girls while they were sifting flour, so she figured they were even.

The villainous stranger just looked confused, however. “Um, I think we’re picking up some cookies? Although honestly Sylvain probably just wanted an excuse to flirt with Mercedes.” He rolled his eyes, as if going out of your way to talk to your girlfriend was embarrassing and childish behavior. He held out his hand. “Felix, by the way. You must be Annette – huh, are these cookies dragon-shaped? That explains the secret extra verse.”

“Never mind that!” Annette said, crossing her arms and glaring. She had been hoping he would forget the singing. “You can have one cookie, but the rest are for the party tomorrow!”

“Oh. No thanks,” the villainous – Felix. His name was Felix. – pulled his hand back and crossed his arms again. “I don’t really like sweet things.”

Annette’s jaw dropped. “You don’t like sweet –.”

“Oh, Annie, have you met Felix already? My, you two already seem quite taken with each other!”

Mercedes breezed in, a tall, handsome redhead on her arm, and all of Annette’s anticipated insults were lost in the shuffle as Mercedes made introductions and oversaw the packing up of the completed holiday cookies. Sylvain was the charming sort – perhaps a little too charming for Annette’s tastes – but he looked at Mercedes with truly doting eyes, and Annette was inclined to like him when she saw Mercedes beam up at him and giggle at something he said.

“We’re excited to have you at the party tomorrow, Annie!” He said cheerfully, sneaking a second cookie instead of putting it into the box Mercedes had given him. “My friend Ingrid is dying to meet you – she and Mercedes are such good friends, I’m almost jealous.”

“You should be! She’s much prettier than you,” Mercedes said gaily. “What time should we get there tomorrow?”

“I was thinking early afternoon,” Sylvain said as she loaded up his arms with boxes of cookies. “If you come over a bit early, you could help with decorations and stuff. We bought a tree last night, you know. Like a real one . . .”

Their voices faded away as Mercedes led Sylvain out of the kitchen, not bothering to look if Felix and Annette were following them.

Felix leaned against the counter and picked up an undecorated sugar cookie. “I’ve heard of St. Cichol riding a dragon into battle, but I think those stories were apocryphal,” he said. “Maybe you know something I don’t.”

“Put that down, those aren’t finished!” Annette said, waving a spatula at him threateningly. “And those were just dumb lyrics I made up without thinking. Just forget about them.”

Felix didn’t smile, not exactly. Annette wasn’t sure he was capable of smiling; he hadn’t bothered in the entire time he’d been here. But there was something almost amused in his eyes as he set the cookie down on the tray.

“I don’t think I’ll be forgetting any time soon,” he said. “They’re catchy.”

Annette opened her mouth to retort something, but he once again caught her by surprise. This time, as he looked down at her, he frowned. Reaching into his pocket, he stepped around the counter and leaned in close.

“What are you –” Annette said, but she cut off with a squeak as he reached up, handkerchief in his hand, and gently brushed the cloth across her cheek.

Who, in this day and age, carried a handkerchief around in their hoodie pocket? Was the dang thing scented, or was it just that he was standing so close to her and he happened to smell awfully nice? And how was the brush of his fingers so warm and soft against her skin when he still glowered down at her as if she’d personally just insulted his entire family? None of this made sense.

Annette reached up and grabbed his hand instinctively. He pulled away, leaving the handkerchief clutched in her fingers.

“Flour on your nose,” he said by way of explanation. He stepped away, shrugging. “I’ll see you at the party tomorrow, I guess. Happy caroling.”

He was gone before Annette could tell him she wasn’t caroling, and he was definitely gone before she could ask him to take his handkerchief back.

She wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand and turned her attention back to the cookie dough. What an absolutely infuriating man.

***

The Vest

Sylvain had told Annette that the St. Cichol’s party would be a “small little meetup” with “just some close friends.” Judging by how the preparations were going, Sylvain was friends with half of Fhirdiad. Annette had counted deliveries from three different caterers since she and Mercedes had showed up with holiday cookies in tow, and Felix showed up with bags full of food before looking around the apartment, calling it “sickeningly festive,” and disappearing into his room.

It was a gorgeous apartment, Annette had to give them that much. She suspected most of the decorative flourishes were Mercie’s doing even before they’d come in with holiday lights and tinsel, but the windows were large and spacious and the floors were real hardwood. Annette had lived in an apartment while at school that had walls so thin she was fairly sure she could have punched through them, so the exposed brick and adorable balcony were enviable. It was almost enough to make her want to move back to the city.

She hung another ornament on the tree in the entryway and shook her head. She was being silly. She had people back in Dominic that needed her – the bookstore would go out of business if she didn’t put in extra hours, and her mother would be lonely. She couldn’t be blinded by granite countertops and some twinkly holiday lights.

She stepped back and admired her handiwork. The tree was gorgeous, almost reaching the ceiling. Sylvain had joked that it was a task for taller people as he pulled out a wobbly step stool for Annette to stand on, but she’d had no problem arranging the miscellaneous ornaments neatly on the tree. She turned to call to Mercie to come see the décor – only to hear her friend’s laughter from the kitchen turn into a delighted and slightly embarrassing gasp.

Maybe she’d check in on Mercedes later.

Annette turned back to the tree and gave it another appraising look. The lights were gorgeous, the ornaments were well-placed. Everything was in order – except, maybe – yes, now that she looked again, the St. Cethleann at the top of the tree was a bit crooked. Annette would fix it, and the tree would be perfect.

“You’re a little crooked, aren’t you, Lady Cethleann?” Annette asked the ornament, climbing onto the wobbly stepladder and reaching up to the top of the tree. “We’ll fix that.”

In truth, Annette doubted that the actual St. Cethleann of old had wings. She probably also didn’t have green hair. Still, tradition was tradition, and this Cethleann tree topper was a surprisingly well-loved addition to the tree. Her yarn hair was beginning to unravel around the edges, and as Annette took her off the tree, she realized her wings had been broken and reglued on at some point.

“You’re a bit of a ragtag saint, aren’t you, Miss C?” Annette said fondly, turning the ornament over in her hand. “I think I might’ve had one like you when I was a – wah!” 

Looking back, Annette wasn’t sure whether to blame her feet or the latter or possibly a curse from St. Cethleann herself, but either way, she tumbled backwards with a cry, her legs slipping out from under her. She windmilled her arms for a few seconds, trying to catch onto something, anything. But the tree was no help and it was no use, and with a sickening drop in her stomach, Annette fell back –

Only to be caught by strong, waiting arms.

Annette’s eyes were squeezed shut, to better enable her prayers for forgiveness to the goddess. Her hands had automatically grabbed onto the nearest stability, which appeared to be a combination of fabric and bicep. Once she ascertained that she was not, in fact, dead, Annette tentatively opened her eyes.

Felix’s amber eyes stared back at her, warm like honey and full of mild concern.

“Bah!” Annette cried, throwing the St. Cethleann figurine into the air and covering her face with her free hand.

“Hey, careful!” Felix said. Annette wasn’t sure how he managed to catch the figurine before it hit the ground, given that he was firmly holding her upright at this point, but he carefully set the tree topper onto the end table and glared down at Annette. “I’ve had that since I was a kid. Glenn and I used to fight over who got to put her on the tree.”

Annette looked between the St. Cethleann topper in surprise. She had many questions – Who was Glenn? Was it Felix who had glued the wings onto the ornament? Did that mean he actually was sentimental about St. Cichol’s Day? What had he been like as a kid, to look at the ornament so fondly now? Why was he looking at her the same way, now that his glare had subsided?

She settled for: “What are you doing here, Felix?”

Felix wrinkled his nose in confusion, and Annette tried to not think that it was kind of cute. “I live here?” he offered. “Maybe you forgot, but this is my apartment.”

“I know that!” Annette said, feeling her cheeks growing warm. Why was she always stumbling around him, literally and otherwise? “But what are you doing here?” She gasped, realization dawning on her. “You were spying on me, weren’t you! Hoping I’d sing another song!”

Felix didn’t smile again, but this time the amusement in his eyes was matched by a slightly-raised eyebrow. Annette blushed harder.

“I don’t think it’s spying if I walk into the entryway of my own apartment and you don’t notice,” he said. “I didn’t think they’d want any help in the kitchen, and – well, I figured I could be useful here. Turns out I was right.”

He set her down carefully, pausing to make sure she had her feet under her before pulling away. Annette suddenly remembered how incredibly embarrassing the whole situation had been – she’d thrown both her arms around his neck for balance, for heaven’s sake! Still, it was better than a trip to the hospital on St. Cichol’s Eve.

She crossed her arms and looked away. “Well . . . thank you for catching me. That was good timing.”

“Yeah, I have that sometimes.”

When she looked back at Felix, she was surprised to see he was also crossing his arms and looking away. He couldn’t possibly be embarrassed, too – he wasn’t the one falling off rickety ladders and throwing saints around! Annette looked at him more carefully, scanning him up and down, noticing that he had changed for the party and that he evidently could have more fashion sense than beat up hoodies and t-shirts, if he wanted to.

Not that that was worth dwelling on.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, causing Felix to glance over at her. “I’m sorry, Felix – I think I ripped your vest.

“Huh,” he said, looking down at the rip just under his left shoulder. “I guess you did. You were really flailing around there for a second.”

“I can fix it!” Annette said hurriedly. It was her fault, after all. “I mean, probably. Did it tear on a seam?”

“Um?” Felix looked at her like she was speaking another language. “Maybe?”

“Here, just – let me see.”

For the second time that day, Annette wobbled as she tried standing on her toes to solve a problem. Felix caught her, but stepped away quickly before leaning down so she could better see the tear. Even his most awkward twisting did little good, however, and eventually he just unbuttoned his vest and, with a sigh, tossed it to Annette.

“Oh, this won’t be hard to sew up at all!” Annette said, smiling as she looked at the tear, which was much cleaner now that she looked at it. “Do you have a sewing machine? I guess I could take it back to Mercie’s place, but then you wouldn’t have it for tonight.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” Felix said. “I have other jackets. It would be dumb for you to – ”

“My, that’s a lovely St. Cichol’s tree! Mercedes wasn’t kidding when she said you – oh! Did I walk in on something?”

Annette and Felix whipped around to see Sylvain standing in the doorway. He was leaning against the door frame. And he was smirking.

“Mercedes said you two would hit it off – should you be taking off your clothes right here, though, Felix?” he asked. “The other guests will be here soon.”

“Sylvain, I swear to the goddess –” Felix growled, turning away from Annette and taking a menacing step towards his roommate.

Sylvain threw up his hands. “Okay, okay! You guys want privacy, I get it, I – hey! No hitting!”

Sylvain was surprisingly fast on his feet, and he and Felix darted out of the room and down the hall, leaving Annette and Mercedes standing alone by the St. Cichol’s tree.

“You look a bit flustered there, Annie!” Mercedes said, smiling as she straightened her collar and shot her friend a sly glance. “Don’t tell me Sylvain’s teasing was actually close to the truth.”

“Now you’re teasing, Mercie! I’m just clumsy, you know that,” Annette said. “But he – he’s kind of nice, isn’t he?”

“Who, Felix? Oh yes!” Mercedes beamed. “I’ve talked about him before, haven’t I? He’s just big old marshmallow. Such a sweetheart!”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Annette said with a laugh. “But I do feel bad – look, I ripped his vest.”

“Oh, that’ll be easy to fix, though,” Mercedes said, taking the vest and looking at the tear closely. “We’d better wait until after the party. I’m not sure either of these boys own a needle and thread.” She grabbed Annette’s hand and pulled her towards the kitchen. “But never mind that! Come look at the pavlova; it turned out beautifully!”

Annette giggled and let her friend pull her away from trees and vests and wobbly stepstools. The St. Cethleann ornament smiled serenely after them as they left the room, the yarn on her hair just a bit more unraveled and just a bit more well-loved.

***

 The Blanket  

Annette yawned and stared sleepily into the fire. She was sitting on the floor, with her back against the couch, but this late into the evening she was too lazy to stand up and find an actual place to sit.

Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the faint murmur of voices from the few partygoers who still remained, most of them gathered in the kitchen. To no one’s surprise, Mercedes and Sylvain certainly knew how to throw a party. Annette had met a whirlwind of faces and names and was certain she would not be able to match any of them to each other come morning. Everyone had been friendly and interesting and ready to love her on the basis of how much they loved Mercedes, which was all Annette could really ask for. She’d found a comfortable seat next to the fireplace in the living room towards the end of the evening, and even when the last few couples had drifted away for the night, Annette had remained, watching the snow fall outside the window and the fire burn lower and lower in the grate.

“Mercedes said you’d want this.”

Annette looked up quickly. Normally, she’d say she was surprised, but she had grown used to Felix appearing out of nowhere. He didn’t seem to be good at announcing himself.

“What is it?” she asked, taking the offer mug from him. He held a matching mug in his other hand, a pattern of cats running in circles.

Felix shrugged.  “It gets cold back here. Old apartment. It’ll warm you up.”

Annette was too sleepy to argue, so she took a sip. She was surprised that it was hot chocolate, dark and sweet and exactly how she liked it.

She looked over at Felix sharply. “I thought you didn’t like sweet things,” she said accusingly, glaring at his own mug.

“Me? Oh. This is coffee.” Felix slipped down onto the floor beside her, his back against the couch. “Black.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Annette grumbled, but she took another sip from her mug, and it was hard to feel particularly annoyed with him.

It was hard to feel anything but warm and sleepy and content, especially when Felix reached behind them, grabbing a throw blanket off the couch. He tossed it to her without looking, but when Annette struggled to unfold the thing while still holding on to her mug of cocoa, he sighed and set his coffee down, shaking the blanket out and carefully wrapping it around her shoulders.

“So, you leave town . . . next week?” he ventured after a moment. It was strange to hear him break the silence. Annette was used to being the chatty one.

She took another sip of her hot chocolate. It was delicious. She couldn’t believe he made it.

“After new year’s, yeah,” she said. “Mercie said I needed to stay for the big new year’s eve party.”

“At the Lion, yeah,” Felix agreed. “It’ll be mostly the same group tonight. It’s an okay bar. You’ll probably like it.” He took a sip of coffee, staring into the fire as Annette hugged the blanket more tightly around herself. “You and Mercedes were roommates before, right? Were you also studying nursing?”

“Law school, if you can believe it,” Annette said with a slight laugh. “Top of my class at U of F.”

“No kidding?” Felix raised an eyebrow , impressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t stay here in Fhirdiad. Got a good offer in Dominic?”

“Oh! Um, no, not really,” Annette said. “I work at a used bookstore.”

“Oh.” Felix paused, thinking this over. “Doing . . . law things?”

“No, mostly just . . . managing. I kind of worry the bookstore would shut down if I wasn’t there to keep it running,” Annette explained. “It’s not the most exciting work, but, well – it’s nice to be needed!”

“As long as you’re happy where you are,” Felix said with a shrug. “Is this your first time back in Fhirdiad?”

“Oh, no, I’ve been back a couple of times!” Annette said brightly. “I come to visit Mercie, of course, and I’ve done some summer work here and there. And sometimes – well, um. Hm.”

She trailed off, realizing she was veering dangerously into babbling territory. There were things Felix didn’t want to hear about. But he simply flopped his head over from where he was leaning back against the couch, looking at her with another of those raised eyebrowed. Annette sighed and hugged her knees to her chest.

“My dad lives in Fhirdiad,” she explained. “That’s originally why I chose to come to U of F in the first place. But um . . . we don’t talk much.” She sighed. “I was hoping he’d call or text or something while I was in town. I told him I’d be here for the holidays. He . . . he saw the text, I know that much.”

She heard Felix shuffling beside her, and she blinked down at her hot chocolate, swallowing hard. She wondered if he was leaving – he might be blunt enough to just leave if a conversation got too awkward – but she looked over and was surprised to realize he’d moved closer to her, not further away.

He froze when she met his eyes, his hands halfway towards her. For a second, neither of them moved, even their breath frozen in time. But he soon recovered, and he had only been moving to adjust the blanket around her shoulders a bit more snugly. Annette laughed again to herself, more sadly.

“Maybe that’s why I went back to Dominic, in the end,” she said softly. “It’s hard to stay somewhere when you feel like the whole city’s rejected you.”

“I don’t know your dad, and from the sound of things, I don’t care to,” Felix said. “But I can promise you the whole city isn’t represented by guys like that.”

Annette smiled despite herself. “Sometimes I can’t decide if you’re mean or you’re nice,” she admitted.

“Me? That’s easy.” Felix crossed his arms and glared at her. “I’m terrible.” He softened, dropping both his arms and his gaze. “Tell me about Dominic, then. It seems nice.”

So Annette told him. She told him about the best apple pie on main street and the annual snowball competition and the kindly old toymaker who everyone whispered was St. Cichol himself. But she also drifted, telling him about how she and Mercedes used to stay up until dawn giggling and daydreaming, and how much she had loved the baby wyvern at the Fhirdiad zoo (who they were going to visit next week and who was now quite large), and how she’d forgotten how good the air smelled when it had just snowed, just as she’d forgotten how the sounds of the city could lull her to sleep at night.

The fire was hazy and golden as they talked, and it grew more blurry as Annette’s eyes grew more unfocused. At some point, she remembered leaning against Felix’s shoulder, just to get more comfortable. She remembered he didn’t lean away, and perhaps at the moment she thought that was strange, but she was too warm and sleepy and cozy to care. By the time he slid his arm around her shoulder, careful and uncertain, Annette had already fallen asleep.

*

Annette woke up to sunlight streaming in through the blinds and hitting her directly between the eyes. She groaned and rolled over, only to nearly tumble out of bed. She caught herself just in time and looked up, blinking, to realize she was still in all her party clothes, her shoes neatly in the corner and a blanket thrown over her. And the reason she’d almost fallen out of bed, of course, was that she wasn’t in her nice queen-sized bed at home. She was in the twin bed in Mercedes’s guest bedroom.

Wearing the blanket like a duchess’s cloak around her shoulders, Annette followed the sound of sizzling out into the kitchen to find Mercedes behind the stove, frying up enough breakfast to feed a small army. She turned at the sound and beamed at Annette.

“Hello, Annie! You feeling alright? I know I might’ve had too much merriment last night, myself.” She slid a pile of bacon across the counter to Annette. “This will help with that, I hope. I have a hot sauce for the eggs that’s from a brunch place downtown; we’ll have to go before you leave.”

“How’d we get here, Mercie?” Annette asked, nibbling on a piece of bacon and looking around the kitchen, still a bit shocked. “The last thing I remember, I was at the party.”

“Oh, well – my, you were out when we drove home, weren’t you?” Mercedes smiled. “You kept mumbling things to Felix, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Felix?” Annette asked, and then it all came crashing back to her – the party, the fire, telling Felix about her dad.

The fact the blanket around her shoulders had little cats dancing across it, because evidently Felix had surprisingly whimsical decorative tastes.

“Oh, Mercie, he – he carried me to the car, didn’t he?” Annette could now vaguely remember the rush of streetlights as they drove, and Felix snapping at Sylvain about his driving, and how she had decided not to worry about it and to snuggle closer into the warmth of his jacket.

“And to bed!” Mercedes sang, sliding perfectly scrambled eggs onto Annette’s plate. “It was so cute; Sylvain could’ve driven us home himself but you really didn’t want to let go of him.” She nodded to the dancing cats. “Or his blanket.”

“Oh goddess – Mercie, I – oh dear – I –” Annette stumbled over her words, and Mercedes looked up from her frying pans, frowning suddenly.

“What’s wrong, Annie dear? Did you have an okay time last night?” She put her spatula down and put her hands on her hips. “Felix didn’t say anything rude, did her? Because if he did, I’ll march over there and –”

“It’s not that, Mercie,” Annette said quickly, to avoid potential homicide. “It’s just that – I think – ”

“You think, what, Annie?”

“I think I like him,” Annette moaned, burying her head in her arms and pulling the blanket over her head.

“Ah. There, there,” Mercedes comforted, sliding the eggs to the side of the plate and piling on some chocolate chip pancakes next to them. “There’s a very good chance he might like you, too.”

***

Fireworks

The Blue Lion was tucked away in the heart of downtown Fhirdiad, the unmarked front door hidden in an alley just off of Aegis Avenue. The bar evidently didn’t need to advertise itself in order to draw in a crowd, however, and on New Year’s Eve, it was packed.

Mercedes’s friends had secured a table in the back corner before she and Annette arrived; when she asked her friend Ingrid how many elbows she had thrown to get the table, Ingrid had replied with unnerving sincerity.

Annette settled back in her seat and looked around the bar, content to people-watch. Across the table, Ingrid was arguing with a guy Annette hadn’t met, but she didn’t feel like wading into the debate. She spotted Felix and Sylvain across the bar by the jukebox, waving their hands with similar argumentative energy. Even in the crowded space, there was the pleasant, chaotic sense of celebrating with your closest friends, and Annette felt a pang of nostalgia that she couldn’t quite place as she watched Sylvain laugh at something Felix had said.

“Do you want me to get you another drink, Annie?” Mercedes asked. Annette leaned in close to try to hear her. Between the music and the crowds, all conversations had to be at least partially shouted.

“I’m okay – actually, yes,” Annette said, draining the last of her drink and reaching for her purse. “I can come with you.”

“It’s on me! You hold the table,” Mercedes said, waving away Annette’s proffered credit card. “I’ll be back!”

Annette started to argue, but as she glanced down into her purse, she spotted a slew of notifications she’d received since arriving at the bar. Recognizing the shape of the letters from the top contact even without reading it, she slid back into her seat and quickly pulled out her phone. Excitedly, she jabbed at her phone, pulling up messages and opening up the text from her father.

Annette,

Leaving for Gautier tomorrow. Regret I will not be able to see you this trip. May the goddess bless you in the new year.

He didn’t even sign it. Not that you were supposed to sign your texts, but if he went through the trouble of writing her name at the top, the least he could have done was write “Dad” at the end.

Annette sighed and closed out of the message. She glanced at the other unread messages: friends from college wishing her Happy New Year, a photo of her mom on the beach, a – oh, a text from her boss. That was weird.

Annette opened up the message.

Think we’re going to have to cut your hours in the new year, Ann. Not enough sales to justify keeping open on weekdays. We’ll talk when you get back.

It was strange, the things that were final straws and the things that Annette could bear. But she’d put her whole life into keeping this bookstore open. The text practically felt like a breakup.

She threw her phone in her purse and jumped up from the table. Ingrid looked up from her argument, surprised, but Annette gave a choked out answer about having to call her mom and stomped away. She passed a confused Mercedes, balancing drinks and waters, but hurried past her before she could ask questions.

The back patio of the bar was less crowded, probably because it was absolutely freezing outside. Annette wished she’d brought her jacket with her, but it was too late to turn around now. She made her way around the corner of the bar and found a spot against the railing that was completely empty. Sniffling, Annette leaned against the railing, staring out into the night. The patio faced a city street, and she watched cars go by, her eyes unfocusing until they became streaks of light against a city backdrop.

“I’m beginning to think you like standing in the snow.”

Annette looked over, then up, to see Felix standing directly next to her. He held out her jacket, and she took it silently, looking back out into the darkness as she fumbled with the zipper.

She sniffled, and after a moment, Felix gently nudged her. She looked down and saw he was offering her a handkerchief.

“How many of these do you have, anyways?” she mumbled, taking it and dabbing at her eyes.

“As many as you’re going to steal, and then one more after that.” Felix leaned against the railing next to her, his elbow bumping against hers. “I can lend you my jacket, too, if you really want, but I don’t have as many of those left.”

“I’ve really spent most of this trip stealing your things,” Annette said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, well.” Felix shrugged. “They look better on you.”

Somewhere in the distance, Annette heard fireworks go off, although she was certain midnight was still a few minutes away. She sighed and shoved the handkerchief in her pocket.

“Everything okay?” Felix asked.

It was an opening with an easy out. She could’ve lied and he would have left it. But Annette didn’t want to lie, right now. She felt like she could trust him.

“I just feel – it feels like there’s no place for me,” she said. “Mercie’s so happy here, with all her friends, and all of you, but me – I moved to Fhirdiad and didn’t get what I wanted, but I’ve never been quite able to go home again, you know? But the moment I leave Dominic, it crumbles behind me.” She sighed. “And now I have nowhere to go.”

“I mean. . .” Felix took a deep breath, and Annette glanced at him sharply. Surely she was imagining that he seemed nervous. “I don’t know that much about . . . fitting in, or feeling like you have a place, or whatever it is you want. But it seems like Fhirdiad’s been pretty happy to have you, this week.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. “You could always move back here.”

It sounded like so much more than a simple suggestion. It sounded like more than an invitation. Annette felt her breath catch in her throat. She’d been fooled into wanting too much before.

“What about Dominic?” she asked. “I can’t just leave.”

“Do you even like living in Dominic that much?” Felix asked. “Or do you just feel like they need you there?”

“I mean. I told you already, there are things to like!” Annette protested. “It’s nice at St.Cichol’s Day.”

“So visit for St. Cichol’s Day,” Felix said, like it was obvious. “Give Fhirdiad a chance for the other 11 moons of the year.”

When he said it, it sounded easy. It sounded like something she wanted. But Annette still slumped against the railing glumly, staring at the headlights as they drove by.

“What would I even do in Fhirdiad?” she mumbled. “I can’t even keep a stupid used bookstore open back home.”

“You’re joking, right?” Felix said. “Didn’t you say you have a law degree from U of F?”

“Top of the class,” Annette muttered.

“I’m sure any number of law firms would snap you up,” Felix said. “You’re not exactly unemployable, Annette.”

“A high-powered lawyer in the big city,” Annette said, trying the words out. “But I’m just a small-town girl from Dominic, Felix.”

“So what?” Felix said. “People change. People move. It’s a new year, Annette.”

Annette turned to him, smiling wanly. “It’s not a new year yet, Felix,” she reminded him.

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than fireworks exploded in the sky above her, somewhere over the lake at the city center. From inside the bar, cheers rang out for the new year.

Annette pouted up at Felix. He actually smirked in reply. It was the first time she’d seen him smile. He looked unbelievably smug. He looked unbelievably handsome.

“It may be a new year,” she said. “But you’re still an insufferable villain, Felix Fraldarius.”

His smile became, if possible, even more handsome. “Maybe so,” he said. “But if you’re going to be a hot shot lawyer in the big city, won’t you need a jerk boyfriend, to complete the look?”

Annette reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, grabbing onto his coat collar with the other.

“Can he fix cars?” she asked. “Mine breaks down a lot.”

Felix didn’t reply as he leaned down to kiss her, but she already knew the answer.

As the fireworks exploded above them in the new year’s sky, she suddenly knew the answer to a lot of things.

And the things she didn’t know? She was eager to find out.