Page 1 of Our Bright Christmas Town
CHAPTER 1
Ashby
December 21st
More bloody mistletoe.
I snapped a picture of it dangling above Mrs R’s porch—Mrs Rawling, really, but I’d known her since I kicked my football through her window when I was twelve. A quick crop later, I sent the image to Kieran with the caption,‘Seriously, it’s everywhere. A full-on mistletoe outbreak.’
Kieran. My idiot heart stuttered and missed a beat. After five months apart, he was finally on his way home—just hours away.
I tucked my phone away and rang the bell.
Mrs R ushered me into her narrow hallway, offering me a cup of tea while I set down my toolbox and ditched my trainers and woollen hat, my dark hair messed up by it. A cold snap had gripped our town a couple of days ago, might even get some snow for Christmas.
“So,” I asked. “Where’s our patient?”
“Come on through.” She led me into the living room, where Christmas blared in mighty streaks of green and red—a tree that nearly brushed the ceiling, an old-school nativity scene, and tinsel framing the window like a pair of sparkly eyebrows. Thelamp above her dinner table had taken to flickering, and she wanted it fixed before her siblings invaded on Christmas Eve.
“You said it started last week?” I asked.
“Maybe a little earlier, even. But that’s when it got worse.” She watched me unpack my tools for a second, then nodded. “Oh—tea. I’ll be right back, dear.”
I shot her a smile before I turned to assess my task. Her lamp was one of those modern chandelier types, a tad too bright for my liking, that didn’t quite match the rest of her interior. Maybe if she exchanged the current bulbs for something softer, like the ones tipped in gold that would give the whole thing a more ambient glow. I wasn’t here for a design consultation, though.
With Mrs R still bustling about the kitchen, I checked my phone and found that Kieran had replied.‘Professional diagnosis: mistletoe is a beneficial bacteria that encourages snogging. Tinsel, though? Pompous holiday parasite.’
He’d followed it up with a second message, sent right after.‘But really, what’s with the mistletoe hate?’
Ah. Yeah, I had yet to tell him that I was single again. Because apparently, I was a good fuck—my ex’s words, which,lovely—but emotionally unavailable.
Not that I’d repeat that to Kieran. One, he was fiercely protective, and two, I’d rather he didn’t wonder why I’d never deeply cared for any of the guys I’d dated. In contrast, I’d swim across an ocean for my family and friends. Friends like him.
‘Still working on my holiday cheer,’I wrote back, then got to work.
Half an hour later, I’d fixed the loose connection inside the lamp housing and was putting my shoes back on while Mrs R fussed over me. “Honestly, I’m glad you never left, Ashby. Seems like all the youngsters are off to university these days, but look at you—running your dad’s business, helping half the town. Good, honest work, not some fancy degree in art history or some such.”
Or medicine, yeah.
She meant well. I reminded myself of that even if my smile felt strained. “Thanks, Mrs R. I like making myself useful.”
“That you do.”
After a bit more small talk—yes, I’d say hi to my mum; no, we hadn’t finalised the Christmas menu yet—I stepped out into the biting cold of an overcast afternoon, charcoal clouds smudging the sky. I dropped my toolbox into the back of my van, a little beat up but reliable, with our ‘Miller & Son’ logo scrawled across its sides. I’d redesigned it some three years ago, turning my dad’s outdated word art into something more modern that included me.
Once I’d slid behind the wheel, I checked my phone again. Kieran’s reaction to my lack of holiday cheer was,‘I can help with that.’
‘Gonna make me sit through Love Actually AGAIN?’I asked, and he immediately started typing a reply.
‘Maybe. But first: you, me, and a bottle of Bailey’s. Let me know when you’re done with work and I’ll bring the bottle.’
I chewed the inside of my cheek to smother a stupid smile.‘You’re on.’
Kieran arrived at half-seven,striding in like he owned the place—tall, blond hair flattened by a woollen hat, and cheeks pink from the cold. God.
Breathe. Smile.
He pulled me into a hug that felt like coming home, nose pressed to my cheek, and I wound my arms around him and counted the seconds before I had to let him go.
