Page 17 of Our Bright Christmas Town
Was he? When he hadn’t even bothered to mention a London offer that seemed rather hard to refuse?
I scraped together a smile. “Thanks, mate. Appreciate the chat.”
He studied me for a second before he clearly decided to buy what I was selling. After he clapped me on the back, we rejoined the others in the living room, walking right into a well-rehashed argument about whetherDie Hardcounted as a Christmas movie. I faked a normal level of interest, avoiding Kieran’s eyes as disappointment twisted through my gut.
But then, what had I expected? Kieran didn’t plan ahead—he always jumped without a safety net, trusting others to catch him. I couldn’t, though. Not this time. Not when I’d already hit the ground and was reeling from the impact.
CHAPTER 6
Kieran
Something was wrong.
It was in how Ashby wouldn’t quite meet my eyes when he smiled, in the minute pause before he laughed at some joke Ezra made. Just as the bad guys realised Bruce Willis was a problem, I leaned into Ashby, my head on his shoulder. While he didn’t move away, I sensed the tension rolling off him in quiet waves. Was I pushing us along too quickly? At least he wasn’t running.
Ezra bowed out early to meet his brother, and Dom left just before the movie ended to join some other friends for a pub outing. By the time Ashby and I hugged Jude goodbye and stepped outside, thick, feathery snowflakes drifted through the glow of streetlamps and dissolved the instant they met warmth.
We walked a few steps in silence, and I told myself it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just us revelling in the light fall of snow, right? Right. Yes.
“Hey.” I bumped our hands together. “Can I walk you home?”
He slid me a look I couldn’t read. “It’s not exactly far.”
“I know.” Snow caught in his lashes; I wanted to brush it away. “So, can I walk you home?”
The cold shaped his flat chuckle into a brief swirl of white. “Is this part of your wooing ritual?”
“Yep.” I sent him my biggest, cheesiest smile. “Is it working?”
“You do realise you’re ridiculous, right?” It carried a hint of affection, but there was more to it—sadness, resignation.Why? Again, his gaze slipped away from mine. My throat went a little tight as I watched his profile.
“Well,” I said softly. “I’m years behind you. It’s only fair that I make a bigger effort now.” Was it all a bit much, maybe? I had a tendency to go overboard, but I hadn’t even done anything yet. He’d seemed slightly embarrassed by how the other three had swooped in like pigeons, pecking at the edges of our new… oursomething, label pending.
I thought about asking him why he hadn’t told Jude or Ezra about how he’d loved me for years. Hadn’t told anyone, by all accounts. But I knew him well enough to suspect how he’d answer—that it would have made it too real when all this time, he’d fought to get over me.
No use stirring up those negative memories.
“Kieran,” was all he said after several moments had slid by in silence, our footsteps swallowed by the thin layer of fresh snow. His voice was flat, almost hopeless. “Can you just…”
“What?” I asked, hushed. “What is it, Ash?”
He drew us to a stop under a streetlamp, the snow coming down heavier now. I tipped my face up to watch a silent flurry of flakes dance through the cone of light, closed my eyes for a moment, fully focused on the pinprick sensation of cold snow on my cheeks and forehead. On Ashby, just out of my reach.
London felt light years away—the vinyl floors of the clinic, the ever-present smell of antiseptic, the rush of a shift that refused to end, ever.
When I blinked my lids back open, he was watching me with an expression that seemed fragile, like the delicate thread offrost flowers across the windowpane of a nearby car. I let my lips tug into an upwards curve and waited, our breaths dissolving like fog into the night.
“Dom seems to love it in London,” Ashby eventually said, as if he’d caught a glimpse of my thoughts. His tone was painstakingly neutral.Don’t mind me—just sharing an observation of no importance.Easy enough to conclude when Dom had been talking about the city in quick, excited words.
“I think it’s mostly the novelty,” I said. “Plus, he loves cinema and musicals.”
Something flashed across Ashby’s face, too quick to read. But wait.Wait. Was this why he’d gone all strange and quiet—because he wondered how muchIloved it there? I’d already told him, kind of, that I hadn’t seen much of it other than the hospital and the Tube. Only that had been before.
I watched him hesitate, squinting against a snowflake that had caught in his eyelashes. “Right,” he said after several seconds, and Christ, he’d never held back around me before.
Actually, he’d held back around me for a decade.
“I don’t love it,” I told him, so quiet it melted in with the falling snow. “It’s too big for my taste.”
