Page 51 of Daddy's Christmas Elf
Eli was wrong, so damn wrong, and he needed to be put right. But first Grey had to find him.
Think.
Where would Eli go on Christmas Eve? His options were limited to the point of non-existent. Public transport, like the rest of the city, was closing down. No buses, no trains, no tube. The tube. The northern line, running straight from Hampstead to Stockwell and the little terraced house Eli was locked out of.
A couple of minutes later, dragging on his coat as he fled the house, slipping and sliding on the icy pavement, Grey jumped in his car. Flicking the ignition on, the heavy four wheeled drive rumbled into life and Grey pulled away from the kerb, cutting through the snow-bound road with ease. With his hands in a tight, white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, Grey headed for the tube station determined to stop Eli from breaking in to a house miles and miles away, on a little south London street.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
“No. No, no,no.”
Eli’s hands clutched at the metal railings, chained and locked, barring his way into the tube station.
“Sorry, mate. You’re too late. Last train went a good half hour back. Weather, see? Everything’s closing down early.”
Eli turned to a chunky guy emerging from a side door, which he locked behind him.
“I need to get to Stockwell.”
“Not by tube, you ain’t. Other side of London, init? Better get a cab, or start walking, ‘cos the buses ‘ave stopped too. Happy Christmas.”
The transport worker gave him a grin, which looked more like a sneer, as he waddled over to a car that had pulled up and was honking its horn. A moment later the car, and the guy, had gone, leaving Eli alone on the deserted street.
Walk? It’d take him until New Year to get back to Benny’s place, and there was no point trying to find a cab because he’d only taken enough money from the change jar to pay for a one way tube ticket. He pressed his head against the cold, hard railing, bracing himself to face the long, freezing walk because he had no other choice.
But you do have another choice…The little voice in his head tumbled down his backbone, making him shiver.
No, he didn’t. He couldn’t go back to Grey’s. He had pride, shredded and tattered though it felt.
Eli’s grip on the railings tightened. He should go, make a move, but his legs, like his heart, were as heavy as lead.
How could he have been so foolish as to believe Grey felt anything more than pity and ill-founded responsibility for him? Eli didn’t need anybody claiming responsibility for him, he didn’t need anybody to hold him up or to take some of the weight that seemed so often to drag him down. He’d be his own strength and support and stand on his own two feet the way he’d always done. He didn’t need anybody — he didn’t needGrey— to keep him upright when sometimes all he wanted was to sink to his knees.
Eli squeezed his eyes tight to stem the threat of hot, salty tears. He shook his head hard, to dislodge the nagging little voice calling him out for the liar that, in his heart, he knew himself to be.
Eli looked up, and snowflakes hit him in the face.
“Oh, fucking hell.”
Could the universe get any more shitty? The dark sky had been clear when he’d left, and there hadn’t been a breath of wind, but now the clouds had gathered and were dumping all over him, as a brisk and biting wind buffeted him from all sides. Shivering, Eli turned away from the empty, locked-up station, head bowed to make his long, slow way across the city.
Eli trudged along the street, deserted save for the occasional hardy soul, their head down against the rising wind, clutching shopping bags with last minute purchases, and taking no notice of him.
The street was filled with shops and cafés, but most were closed, or getting ready to close, with signs in the windows wishing their customers a Merry Christmas. All around him, the city was literally shutting up shop, getting ready for festivities he’d have no part in, as he made his slow, freezing way towards an empty, cold house on the other side of London.
The snow tumbled down, thicker and heavier; the wind picked up, fierce and blustery, encasing Eli in a blizzard. The snow battered against the bare skin of his face, hundreds of tiny, icy pinpricks. He tugged at the scarf, the soft emerald green scarf Grey had bought as a gift—
“It’s just a bloody scarf,” Eli muttered, his voice catching, as he wound it around the lower half of his face, but it was soon soaked with the wet snow and he pulled it off and bundled it into the too big coat that still held a trace of Grey’s spicy orange cologne.
Eli’s vision misted and he dragged the back of one hand across his eyes. It was the snow, that was all it was; his eyes were just watering, he wasn’t crying, it had nothing to do with Grey and what Eli had stupidly, ridiculously, pathetically thought might have been happening between them. Because nothing had been happening. Because Grey was still in love with Peter. Because allhehad been was a diversion, somebody to keep Grey company over Christmas when the only company Grey really wanted was the man he’d spent fifteen fucking years of his life with.
What chance did nothing more than a few days have against that?
I should have left a note…A spasm of guilt shivered through Eli. Whatever delusions Eli had fed himself, Grey had been good to him. Shelter, food, the clothes, but he’d been good to Eli in other ways. Grey had reached inside of him, shining a light on what Eli needed and craved, needs and cravings he’d always kept locked away deep inside, barely acknowledged or understood. The tears began to flow once more, but this time Eli didn’t wipe them away as he stumbled along, head down, fighting his way through a world that was growing darker and colder by the second.
“What the…?”
Eli jumped as a spray of wet snow hit him on one side of his face, as a large van on the otherwise empty road drove past. He stopped walking and wiped away the slushy mess.
