Page 32 of The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas
Jack didn’t know what to say or what to do. “I should go.”
Avery’s smile fell. “All right.” He turned and picked up a small bell. He rang it.
Jack frowned at it, confused.
A second later, Daniel appeared. “Sir?”
Apparently, Avery could summon servants with the ring of a tiny bell.
“Jack is leaving now. Could you get his coat?”
“Of course, sir.” Daniel walked to the door.
Jack followed, and Avery came after him.
Daniel already had his coat in hand when they reached the door. Jack pulled it on as Daniel opened the door for him.
“Bye.” Jack smiled tightly, glancing at Avery quickly. Then he walked out the door.
“Bye, Jack,” Avery said.
But Jack didn’t look back.
CHAPTER 17
What did I do wrong?
Avery must have done something wrong. He didn’t know what. But why else would Jack flee from Avery like this?
He stared after Jack’s retreating form. The man’s shoulders hunched. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets. He didn’t even look back. Avery couldn’t comprehend what had happened. He’d never seen Jack look so uncomfortable. So miserable.
They’d had a perfect night together last night.
But today had been off from the start. And Avery didn’t know why. Jack’s body had been so tightly coiled, gaze darting around the room, barely even looking at Avery during his visit.
What happened?
Daniel closed the door. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
Avery shook his head. “No thanks, Daniel. I’ll be in the library.”
Daniel bowed and left.
For a second, Avery kept staring at the closed door. Should he go after Jack?
But what would he say?Sorry? What was Avery sorry for? Avery didn’t know what he’d done wrong, so how could he apologise?
Avery turned and walked down the hallway, heading to his sanctuary, his library.
He opened the door and entered, closing the door behind him. He took a breath, inhaling the scent of the books. He walked around, touching the covers, stroking their spines, trying to find the comfort in them he usually did.
It didn’t work. Not tonight.
He’d planned to show Jack his books. He’d imagined Jack sitting in his favourite armchair. Avery could have brought over his most prized books and let Jack touch them and read them. He’d fantasised about making love on the rug by the fire, surrounded by his books. Avery stared at the crackling blaze.
“What went wrong?” he asked the empty room. “What did I do wrong?”
Perhaps it had been the note with all Avery’s questions on it Jack had found last night.
