Page 12 of New Year in Kentbury
“Damian, wait,” he calls, his footsteps crunching through the snow as he catches up. “It’s not that I care or anything, but maybe I can help.”
The words cut through me, and I stop abruptly, letting out a bitter laugh as I turn to face him. “Help?” I scoff. “Not unless you’ve got some miracle solution to make my family stop being so fucking stubborn.”
Paul raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, and I can’t stop the words from tumbling out in frustration.
“We had family dinner tonight,” I begin, running a hand through my hair. “And, like always, I brought up expanding the business. And, like always, they shot it down. They don’t even try to understand. It’s like they’re clinging to the past with both hands, too scared to imagine what the future could look like.”
I start pacing, the cold air biting against my skin, but it does nothing to cool the anger simmering inside me. “This place could be so much more. It could be something that lasts for generations, but no—they’d rather play it safe. They’d rather let it stagnate.”
Paul watches me, his arms crossing over his chest, but his expression shifts, softening in a way that only makes my chest ache more. “They’re wrong,” he says finally, his voice calm, almost certain. “You’re right, Damian. If you don’t grow, you wither. A legacy needs to evolve, or it’ll die.”
I blink at him, startled by the conviction in his tone, by the way he seems to understand what no one else does. “Yeah, well, good luck getting them to see it that way,” I mutter.
Paul takes a step closer, his gaze locking onto mine, and I can feel the pull of him, strong and undeniable. “You’re going about it the wrong way,” he says. “Show them. Create a blueprint. Give them something tangible to see, to believe in. People can’t always grasp a vision unless you put it right in front of them.”
A blueprint. It’s not a bad idea, and for a moment, I let myself imagine it. But even as I consider his suggestion, another thought creeps in. My vision? It’s not just about the business. It’s about him—about what it could be like if he were beside me, building something that matters.
But that’s a fantasy, and fantasies don’t belong here.
“Thanks for the advice,” I say, my voice clipped as I step past him. “See you around, Paul.”
I don’t wait for his response. I can’t. Each step away feels like I’m ripping something out of myself, but I force myself forward. Paul doesn’t stop me this time, but I can feel his gaze following me, like a shadow I’ll never escape.
And it’s almost enough to break me. Almost.
Chapter Six
Paul
Kentbury isa town built on traditions. The Love Festival, the Spring Festival, there’s Summer . . . you get the idea. Normally, I’d be part of them all, working behind the scenes, pitching in wherever I’m needed. But this year, I’ve avoided two already.
When the Love Festival rolled around, I made an excuse about nonprofit obligations and fled to Boston. Could I have managed everything with a few conference calls? Probably. But I needed to get the fuck out of this town.
Because who wants to stick around during the Love Festival when you can’t love? And since it worked for that one, I used it again for the Spring Festival. I’m not expecting anyone to doubt the reason I left. Maybe by the time summer rolls in I can find another trip. Maybe this time further away—longer. One day I’ll come back and my heart won’t ache.
I spent two weeks in Boston, drowning in noise and distractions, trying to outrun the thoughts that chase me. It didn’t work. Damian Harris followed me there, not in person but in every aching thought, every restless night, every goddamn moment I tried to forget him.
Grief has stages, they say. Anger seems to be my favorite. I’m furious at him for being so impossibly stubborn, for shutting us down before we even had a chance. But mostly, I’m furious at myself. Because he warned me. Damian fucking Harris warned me that we couldn’t be anything, and I ignored him. I thought I could change his mind. I thought I could change him.
And yet, every night, I’m alone, my body betraying me as I think of him. I close my eyes, and it’s Damian’s hands I feel, Damian’s voice I hear, Damian’s name that falls from my lips like a prayer. Some nights, I’m on my knees, riding a dildo like it’s him, whisperingplease love meinto the empty space around me, knowing no one is listening.
He broke me. Completely.
And I fucking let him.
Boston was supposed to be the fix, a way to forget him, even if just for a little while. I tried Grindr—big fucking mistake. Even when the profiles seemed perfect, I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t even imagine touching anyone else. In desperation,I reached out to women I’d hooked up with before. I thought maybe I could go back to pretending. Thought maybe I could fuck my way out of this feeling. But I couldn’t even get hard.
And so, here I am. Back in Kentbury, back to pretending everything is fine when it’s anything but. Because the truth I’ve been running from for years is staring me in the face: I’m gay. Not curious. Not experimenting. Gay.
And worse than that, I’m in love with one man who will never love me back. How pathetic is that?
The town feels quieter than ever, the kind of quiet that creeps in and forces you to confront the things you’d rather bury. It presses into me, relentless and unyielding, as if it knows every lie I’ve told myself.
I know what I need to do. I need to stop running and face the truth—not just with myself but with my family. Damian may have shattered me, but he also forced me to see myself clearly for the first time. It wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t infatuation. It was real. Every look, every touch, every moment between us was real. And I loved him. God, I still love him.
It wasn’t just infatuation with him. It was real. The attraction, the connection, the love.
I’m in the barn, the one I’ve been meaning to fill with animals for years but never have. My hands are busy, twisting a wrench against a bolt that doesn’t need fixing, but my mind is circling the same thoughts. How do I tell them? Will they understand? Will they still see me as the same person, or will this change everything?
