Page 95 of The Unlikely Spare
Which is definitely not what I anticipated. Nor wanted.
Dread fills my chest, cold and heavy.
Daniel.
The memory crashes through me like ice water, bringing with it echoes of betrayal so visceral I have to fight the urge to physically recoil. I can almost hear Daniel’s voice, smooth and cultured, making promises he never intended to keep.
The parallels are too sharp to ignore. Another man who made me feel seen, desired, special.
But here I am again, naked in more ways than one, with someone whose very presence threatens every defense I’ve built.
Eoin seems to sense my tension. “What’s wrong?”
The concern in his voice makes it worse somehow. Daniel had also perfected the art of seeming to care, right up until the moment he shattered my heart and disappeared from my life without a backward glance.
I pull back slightly, putting space between us. The cool, air-conditioned air hits my skin where his warmth was.
“Just…coming back to reality.”
He watches me carefully, concern etched on his features.
“Was that your first time with a man?”
My throat constricts, but I force myself to answer him.
“No.” I glance up at him briefly. He’s looking at me with a gaze that makes me feel simultaneously exposed and oddly safe, a contradiction I can’t begin to untangle.
“There was one man before. But I don’t care to talk about it.”
The words come out sharper than I intended.
Something flickers across Eoin’s face—understanding or perhaps disappointment—before he nods. “All right.”
Just moments ago, being seen by this man was something I reveled in. But now, being watched by those eyes that miss nothing feels claustrophobic.
The easy intimacy has evaporated, leaving an awkward tension. I sit up fully, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My clothes are scattered across the floor. I reach for my underwear first, needing that basic layer of protection before anything else. The fabric feels strange against my oversensitized skin.
“It’s late,” I say, not meeting his eyes as I reach for my shirt. “It’s Christmas tomorrow, and the schedule is packed.”
“Nicholas.” His voice stops me as I start to button my shirt with fingers that aren’t quite steady. “Whatever happened before… I’m not him.”
I freeze, my heart hammering painfully against my ribs.
The statement is so simple, yet it unmoors me completely. Because he’s right. Daniel had charm and smoothness but was ultimately shallow.
Eoin is the opposite of shallow.
“No,” I agree quietly, finally looking at him. “You’re not.”
The question is whether that makes any difference at all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eoin
Christmas Day in Auckland, and I’m watching Prince Nicholas scoop mashed potatoes onto an unhoused man’s plate.
The Auckland City Mission food bank is packed, thrumming with a particular kind of festive energy that feels more desperate than joyful. Christmas carols play through tinny speakers, paper decorations flutter from the ceiling, and volunteers in Santa hats try too hard to spread cheer that feels as thin as discount wrapping paper.
