Page 18 of Our Bright Christmas Town
His gaze snapped to me, doubt twisting his mouth. “Is it, really?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to live in a place where it takes me an hour to get to work, packed in like sardines.”
“So you’ll…” He trailed off, then raised his chin. “What about that offer you got? With the hotshot doctor who thinks you walk on water. Sounds like it’s a big deal.”
Ah.
Dom must have said something and yeah, okay. That explained the sudden shift in Ashby’s mood. Why hadn’t he just fucking asked me, though?
“It is.” I left it at that, holding his eyes in the gleam of the streetlamp, daring him to put actual words to his worries.
Ashby pressed his lips together, eyes narrowing. “He thinks you’ll take it.”
And there it was.
Slowly, I shook my head. “I won’t. A couple of days ago? Yeah, maybe. Now? No way.”
“You…” His expression cracked apart—confusion, then disbelief. “Isn’t that a huge career opportunity?”
I responded with a light shrug. “Yeah.”
“And you’re just gonna throw that away?”
“No.” I cleared my throat, the back of my neck a little hot from the weight of his focus. “I’m looking at my options, and staying in London doesn’t feel like the best one.”
“Because of me?” Half question, half statement, snow swirling around him. His eyes were wide, velvety dark in the low light. I thought about reaching for him but didn’t because—fuck, this was new territory for us, and he seemed… I didn’t know. He’d never looked at me this way.
“Partly, yes.” I let my voice drop low, glancing away and back at him. “Mostly, I guess. I’m not a big city person. I could have handled it for another couple of years, but now, with us…” The ground felt a little unsteady—like I was stepping onto thin ice, not sure whether it would hold, while Ashby was watching me with a kind of attention so intense it bordered on physical. “I know you haven’t made up your mind yet about whether I’m just playing around or whatever. But I really, really missed you. So.”
It came out slightly tangled, my tongue tripping over unplanned words. He stared at me for another frozen moment, and then slowly shook his head. “I can’t let you do that.”
My chest was too small to contain the frantic beating of my heart. “Do what?”
“Sacrifice such a huge opportunity for me. You might resent me further down the line.” His voice came out clear, determined.
“Hardly.” I exhaled around a small, helpless laugh. “Seriously, Ash—when have you ever heard me talk about wanting some big, fancy career? I just want to do something that feels worthwhile. It’s been so busy that I haven’t had a lot of time to really think about it, but it could be GP training, maybe even at the hospital here. Or paediatrics—that’d be Durham, I guess.”
“You, uh.” He sounded like someone trying to solve a puzzle that wouldn’t come together. “You’re good with kids.”
“Yeah, it’s just… It can be tough, you know?” I made a seesawing motion with my hand, not even sure what I was trying to convey. “My last shift, I had this nine-year-old girl—severe asthma attacks, bright pink slippers, justrefusingto let it slow her down. And I watched her fight for breath and felt completely useless.”
“You’re not, though.” Ashby’s voice was a little rough now, shifting closer as though he didn’t even realise it.
“How do you know?” I cleared my throat, felt like I needed to look away from the brightness in his eyes. “What if I slip up? What if I overlook something?”
“Hey. Kieran, hey.” Ashby’s gloved hand grabbed my shoulder, squeezing hard. “You’re good. I know you are.”
“How?” I didn’t mean for it to come out quite so lost.
“Because I know you.” There was utter conviction in his tone. “I know that when you throw yourself into something? You’re all in.”
“Ash.” It felt like a plea. I covered his hand with mine, and what I meant was,I am, I’m all in for this, you.Something about him went still—searching my face for what, I didn’t know. Eventually, his lips curved up.
“Yeah,” he murmured, not quite an answer or maybe it was. His posture still held a hint of caution, so I chose not to push the point when he let go.
We started walking again, side by side, careful not to slip on any ice hidden beneath the thin dusting of snow. Bare branches waved with a light breeze, and when he angled his shoulder towards me, I reached for his hand. Our gloves turned it rather less intimate, but it was the thought that counted, right? He didn’t pull away.
“For tomorrow,” he said after a quiet minute, tone much lighter. “It’s still at five that you guys come over, right? I swear, my parents have spent the last two weeks in a summit-level debate on pinot versus merlot. Daily progress reports and all.”
