Chapter Text
It’s not even a bad snowfall.
Nancy’s seen way worse. Roads slick with ice, snow falling too thick to even see an inch past the windshield. This is not a bad snowstorm. This is mildly annoying snow even to the most pessimistic traveler. Seasoned Maine drivers are not supposed to have any issues with these puffy large flakes that don’t even block a driver’s field of vision.
So really, there shouldn’t be any problems, except…
…somehow Nancy takes a turn too fast and hits the brakes the same way. Her rental car skids across the road. She hasn’t driven in the snow in too long, and her reflexes show it. In a sickening slow motion, she hears the Christmas song on the radio, bells and cheery harmonies—
—and then all the breath is forced from her lungs as something makes a crunching loud noise that Nancy can’t place. Pain radiates from her left shoulder all the way across her chest. She wheezes. The radio sputters back to life, and her first thought is that she needs to restart her car.
Except no, her car is running.
Nancy blinks.
That’s odd.
Why is her car running if she can’t get it moving?
She reaches a hand down for her seatbelt, fumbling and wincing as the movement pulls at the new soreness in her sternum and shoulder. Her head hurts something awful.
There’s a rap of knuckles on the driver’s side window, and she frees the seat belt buckle just in time to turn to see who’s there.
The fuzzy thought that it’s Ryan or Carson flits through her brain, but no, this is not the right street. The Drew house, in all its Christmas charm and glory, is two streets up and one street over.
Not Carson. Not Ryan.
But, as she saints through the car window, not a stranger either.
Nancy hits the button to unlock the car door, and Ace helps her open it. It feels heavier than normal, like it’s been kicked out of alignment.
She stares in confused surprise as he reaches across her and turns off the car. “I heard the crash, and my heart stopped.”
Nancy knows the feeling. She’s pretty sure her heart isn’t beating at all.
She hadn’t seen Ace since…
She hasn’t seen Ace.
Her heart is in her throat, though she really couldn’t say if that’s because she’s seeing Ace for the first time in—well, a long time—or because she just crashed her rental car.
Ace seems more calm about the situation. He takes her hands and helps her climb out of the car. “Shit, Nancy, are you okay?”
There’s not a moment for her to respond when he wraps his arms around her. He pulls her in tight to his chest, and she makes a soft noise in her throat because as nice as it is, it also hurts.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling back. He puts his hands on her shoulders and runs them down her arms. “Let’s get you inside out of the cold, and then I’ll call a tow truck.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Nancy says quickly. “It was my fault, my car, I’ll give them a call…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ace says. “Besides, it may not be that bad. Just the fender. We’ll get an ice pack on your head, and I’ll see if Nick wants to come take a look.”
“I need to call my dad,” Nancy says. She turns to reach back into the car and grab her purse but…
“Wait,” she says, holding up her hand. “That’s not the right car.”
Ace is quiet.
“That’s not…” She stares at the car. This car is a dark blue and at least four years older than the midsize silver sedan she’d picked up from the rental place.
“Nancy,” Ace says, and even though it’s been a really long time, she can still hear that note of concern in his voice. “That’s your car.”
“I know I just got out of it,” Nancy says, “but the rental place gave me a—”
“Rental place?” she hears Ace murmur under his breath. “Why did you get a rental?”
“Because I flew in to Augusta from D.C. and didn’t want dad to have to drive all the way out to get me from the airport.”
She feels his hand on her shoulder. “Nancy, what do you mean you flew in from D.C.? You haven’t worked in D.C. in almost… ten years now?”
Nancy turns around to face him. Something in her stomach is twisting.
Of course.
Return home to Horseshoe Bay and of course within an hour shit has gotten weird.
“What are you talking about?” Nancy asks. “I work in Washington D.C., I flew in to see Carson and Ryan, and I got a rental…”
Her head is killing her. The throbbing just won’t stop, and she raises her hand to gingerly touch the bump that’s slowly forming on her forehead.
“Nance,” says Ace, carefully, like he’s going to scare her, “Why don’t you come inside and we’ll put some ice on that bump and get it sorted out?”
It is cold outside, and inside she can call Ryan or Carson and get this figured out. Ace reaches into the car and pulls out a brown purse that she also doesn’t recognize. He takes her arm and guides her up the sidewalk. There are little plastic candy canes spaced along the sides of the path, a blow-up penguin with a scarf and hat, and blue and white lights strung across the porch and around the windows.
Inside, Ace ushers her into a living room with a crackling fire in the fireplace and a large Christmas tree in one corner. An unlit menorah sits on the mantle, along with several wooden dreidels. Nancy finds herself drawn to the tree. She touches a little red Santa hat ornament and frowns. “This is mine.”
“Of course it is,” Ace says absently. “A bunch of them are. I didn’t really get a lot of ornaments growing up, you know.”
“Why is it here?” Nancy clarifies. On the tree she can see even more baubles that were staples of her childhood.
“You put that one up,” Ace says, walking down the hall. “If you don’t like where it is, just move it.”
Her head throbs again. That doesn’t make sense. She knows that doesn’t make sense. Slowly, Nancy sinks down onto the couch.
“Ace?” she asks, but he must not be able to hear her, because he doesn’t answer.
Her eyes catch up on something else on the mantle, and she stands back up to walk over and inspect it more closely. It’s a black picture frame, and inside there’s a photo of her and Ace. They’re smiling, with their arms around each other. Above them is a sprig of mistletoe.
Another bolt of pain lances through her skull, and she presses her fingers to her temple.
She doesn’t remember this photo being taken.
“Hey,” Ace says softly. Nancy turns to see him in the doorway. He’s holding a dish towel and a bag of frozen peas. “Let's see if this helps.”
He meets her in the middle of the room. With a gentle hand on her elbow, he guides her down onto the couch. Wrapping the peas in the towel, Ace carefully touches it to the bump that’s beginning to form right by her hairline.
Nancy hisses at the cold and the pressure.
“Sorry,” he says. His other hand is still on her arm, thumb caressing back and forth. She can feel it even through her winter coat and his gloves. “You sure you’re okay, Nance? You’re acting kind of weird.”
She pulls her gaze away from his hand on her arm. Even after all this time, his touch is still reassuring. “And you’re not? I haven’t seen you in, god, Ace? Five years? At least?”
His brow creases. “I saw you five hours ago, Nancy. I think we may need to get you to the ER.”
“It’s just a bump on the head,” she says, because she doesn’t want or need to go to the ER. “Just get me some aspirin and…” The other part of what he said registers like an electric shock. “... five hours?”
“Yeah,” he says, pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna call Nick back, tell him we’re going to head to urgent care or if they’re closed the nearest ER, maybe George can stay with—”
“I don’t need urgent care, ” Nancy says, standing up. It forces Ace to pull the ice away from her head. “I need you to start making sense, Ace.”
“Keep your voice down,” Ace said. “It’s late, and I already put the kids to bed.”
“Put the… you have kids?” That is the least relevant part of this conversation. Maybe she’s losing her mind.
“We,” Ace says firmly. “We have kids. I’m taking you to the hospital, Nancy. Something’s wrong. You might be concussed.”
“Nothing is wrong,” Nancy snaps back. “Except you. You’re not talking sense. I live in Washington D.C. I work in Washington D.C. I crashed my rental car, and you’re…”
She trails off. Ace has set the peas down on the coffee table and is reaching for her hand. She pulls away.
“Humor me,” he says, reaching again for the hem of her glove. She lets him slide his fingers in between the end of her coat sleeve and her glove. There’s the tiny brush of the pads of his fingers against her bare skin as he carefully pulls off the glove. Nancy’s suddenly aware that it’s not the black leather she remembers pulling on as she prepared to leave the warmth of the airport. This is dark brown, a tight knit, with little leather pads on her palm and fingertips.
Ace sets the unfamiliar glove down on the coffee table and turns her hand over so her palm faces down.
There, on her left hand, glittering and shimmering brilliantly in the light of the Christmas tree, is a diamond ring.
An oval-cut stone twinkles mockingly at her. It’s surrounded by six tiny round diamonds, three on each side. A thick yellow-gold shank is soldered to a three-strand twisted gold band.
It’s not just an engagement ring. It’s a wedding set.
And it’s not just any wedding set, it’s the set that once belonged to her mother. The adoptive one. Katherine Drew.
Tears prick at her eyes, but it’s not the pain of the headache doing it this time. Any questions she has are stuck in her throat. Any consideration that this is some sick joke is banished from her mind.
Ace slides the rings off of her finger and holds them up. “Check the inscription.”
Nancy does.
A&N - 12/26/26
“Ace,” she whispers. “It’s only 2025.”
His eyes are filled with concern and some other emotion that she can’t place.
“Let’s just get you to the ER,” he tells her.
She doesn’t want to nod her head for fear of how much the motion is going to hurt.
“Okay,” she agrees. “Let’s go.”