Page 12 of Make You Mine This Christmas
“Got it. Now I know. Well, I won’t burden you with my presence anymore tonight. Your stuff’s in the back.” I reach down and pull the lever, knowing I’m being a first-class ass, not even helping him unload everything, but even the thought of looking at him hurts.
“Austin, wait. I don’t think?—”
“Goodnight, Brody,” I say, infusing as much finality into my tone as I can muster. My eyes stay trained on the crack in the steering wheel leather. I know he’s looking at me, his gaze hot on the side of my face. Eventually, he pops open the door and gets out.
“Goodnight, Austin,” he says, right before the door closes. Still, I don’t look up, through the closing of the back hatch and the clunking up the steps in his boots. It’s quiet enough I hear what might be the door to the studio close. But still, I keep my eyes trained forward, blurry now with tears I will myself not to shed.
After I know there’s no chance he’s out there watching me, I wipe my eyes and put the Bronco into drive. The deserted roads and a desire to get home as quickly as possible without going the whole way around the square has me execute a three-point turn to go back the way I came. And there, in the rearview mirror, a curtain from above the coffee shop twitches closed.
Chapter 8
Brody
I’ve dreamed a million times about explaining to Austin what happened when I left. How I regretted it instantly, but still knew I made the right choice to not bring him with me. He belongs in Winterberry Glen. I couldn’t be the reason he left the place that needs him.
I’d even imagined it going terribly wrong. But I never imagined him cutting me off and leaving me out in the cold—literally.
I get nothing done on my day off. I’m sure I slept at some point, but when I walk into the locker room thirty-six hours later, it sure doesn’t feel like it. But then I see a mop of dark brown, almost black hair, and throw a thank you up to Santa in heaven I timed my arrival perfectly.
“Austin,” I say. His eyes meet mine, and the nothingness I see in them stops me short. No anger, no sadness. Barely a hint of recognition. Just nothing.
“Uh, hi.” Everything I planned to say flies out of my head.
He nods in response and looks back down at his leggings, straightening out the horizontal lines so they’re even.
“Ileftsomethinginyourcar.” All one word, not a breath. And to think, I used to argue cases for a living.
“Huh?” At least he speaks to me, even if it’s to seek clarity about what a bozo I’m being.
“I left something in your car. It’s actually, well, more than one something, so I know I didn’t forget to buy it, so I think maybe a bag made it into the back seat? Did you see it?”
He looks somewhere over my left shoulder. “There’s a bag behind the driver’s seat, but I figured it was trash or something.”
“Oh, I bet it’s my bag then,” I say. My voice carries an inordinate amount more cheer than required for asking about a missing bag of toiletries. “Maybe after the shift we can go grab it?”
Austin turns for his locker and reaches inside. He reaches toward me without really looking at me, and I realize he’s handing me his keys.
“I have to leave early today, so why don’t you go get it now?”
“You’re... you’re leaving early? But there has to be someone there to help the kids after they see Santa.” Again, too much emotion, this time indignation at the idea he’d abandon his post.
“The kids will be fine. I’m going to take over as a greeter for today. I texted with Minh last night. You can put the keys back in my locker. The combination is my birthday.” His eyes lock with mine and a bit of angry heat pours into them. “If you didn’t decide to leave that behind, too.”
All the air leaves me in a big exhale. Getting away from me now and being sure to get away from me in the workshop too. I guess this is my life for the next three-and-a-half-weeks. “I remember. I... I make a donation to the Cancer Society every year on your birthday.”
This takes Austin so much by surprise he forgets he’s supposed to be indifferent. Shock, then raw emotion filter across his face before he gets ahold of himself and leaves behind a blank slate. His mouth opens and closes twice before he turns around and walks out without another word.
I slump against the lockers, exhausted before even working a minute of today’s shift. The chai latte with cinnamon Susie made for me grows cold in my hand and curdles in my stomach. I hate thinking this is how the rest of my time in Holly Ridge will be. There has to be something I can do to fix it. I straighten back up and head to Austin’s SUV to grab the bag of things he must have put in the back seat when we were unloading the other night. He needs some time. I hope.
The cold air whips against my cheeks as I step out of the gym, and I realize I’ve forgotten to put my coat back on. I pick up my pace, remembering the weatherman on the news last night predicting an even deeper freeze than already here.
The car beeps as I hit the unlock button, and my hand pauses on the door handle in shock. A car seat sits above where I can see the white handle of the plastic bag resting on the floor. Was it there the other night? Surely, I would have noticed something of that size. I try to remember, but all that comes are flashes of Austin’s gorgeous face in the dim, usually unflattering light and the hurt I put there before he told me to go.
Does Austin have akid?
I go through the motions of retrieving my bag and head back inside to get changed. Potentially life-rearranging news isn’t an excuse to keep any eager Santa visitors waiting.
As I put on the velvet red suit, my mind turns over what it might mean if Austin does have a kid. Austin would be a great dad. Yanking my hat into place, I realize other than the fact he might be in a relationship with the child’s mother, it doesn’t change anything.Especially because right now he’s not talking to you or even looking at you.I wince at the honesty of my inner voice. Yeah, there’s that whole barrier too.
