Page 4 of New Year in Kentbury
I’ve fallen in love twice in my life. Once with my childhood best friend—who, of course, never knew and never would’ve returned those feelings. And now? I glance at Paul, who’s watching me with that mix of amusement and intensity that makes my chest ache. Now, it’s him. And life, as always, is just this fucked up.
“I could’ve,” I finally say, forcing the words out as I take a sip of my coffee, though it tastes as bitter as my life. “But I like to avoid the McCays as much as possible. So, how long is your brother staying?”
It’s a weak deflection, but it’s all I’ve got left to keep from unraveling right here in this damn glass box of a conference room, with Paul standing too close and the weight of everything I can’t have pressing down on me.
Chapter Two
Paul
Damian’s sittingacross from me in the glass-walled conference room, his fingers curled tightly around his coffee mug like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered. The snow-capped mountains behind him are postcard-perfect, but I can’tfocus on the scenery—not when he’s here, not when every breath feels like a fight to keep my emotions in check.
“I could’ve,” he says, his voice carefully measured, like he’s trying to sound indifferent. “But I like to avoid the McCays as much as possible. So, how long is your brother staying?”
The words hit me harder than they should, a tight knot forming in my chest. I nod slowly, swirling the coffee in my own mug, pretending his casual dismissal doesn’t sting like hell. Avoiding the McFolleys? Is that all I am? Another name he butchers on a list of things he’d rather not deal with?
There’s too much happening right now, and it feels like the world is spinning faster than I can keep up. My older brother, Barnaby, showed up in town a week ago. The whole family’s holding out hope that we can convince him to stay—if not permanently, then at least close the gap that’s been growing between us. Barnaby’s been keeping his distance for years, but maybe Kentbury could finally give him a reason to stick around.
I’ve been playing tour guide all week, showing him the town, pointing out all the little things that make Kentbury more than just a picturesque ski resort that happens to produce cider. I’ve tried selling him on the idea that even though he loves the city, this place could be his home. His real home.
But honestly? That’s just a distraction. A convenient excuse to keep busy.
The real problem is sitting across from me, sipping coffee like it’s the only thing in the world he cares about. Avoiding my eyes like the act of looking at me might burn him alive.
Damian Harris.
My . . . friend. That’s the word I have to use in front of people. That’s all he can be, no matter how much more I want from him. To some, we’re business partners. I’ve invested in some of his ventures—under the guise of diversification—but really, I did it so I’d have an excuse to be in his life. To talk to him wheneverthe fuck I want. To sit here in this glass-walled conference room and steal moments that feel like ours, even if we can never claim them.
But Damian Harris isn’t just my business partner. He’s the love of my life.
I know how it sounds—ridiculous, overly dramatic, corny—but it’s the truth. I’ve dated, I’ve been married, and nothing comes close to the way he makes me feel. Damian is the man I want for everything. At my side when life feels like too much, in my bed when the world finally slows down, across from me at the dinner table when it’s just us. My partner. My husband someday—if he’d ever let me.
He’s my foundation and my spark, the steady calm and the fire that keeps me burning. He’s my sunshine, even on the rare days when his moods are a big fucking black cloud. And, fuck, even then I want him. Sometimes especially then. Because loving Damian isn’t simple, but it’s worth every messy, angsty, beautiful second.
Right now, though, he’s all walls and rough edges. His grumpiness has been dialed up to eleven since the moment I walked in. It’s like he’s daring me to ask what’s wrong, to push against the fortress he’s built around himself.
And one day I will chip away at it. Not because I’m trying to fix him—he doesn’t need fixing—but because I know the man underneath all that scowling and brooding. The man who lets himself laugh when no one’s looking. The one who kissed me like he couldn’t breathe without it, who touched me like he was afraid I’d disappear. Who loves me even when he might never admit it.
But now? Now he’s shutting me out, and I can’t figure out if it’s me he’s mad at or just at the entire fucking world.
“Barnaby likes the town,” I say, breaking the silence, my voice deliberately light. “Thinks it’s charming. That’s progress, right?”
Damian doesn’t respond right away. He stirs his coffee, staring into the mug like it holds the answers to all his problems. Finally, he lets out a noncommittal grunt.
“Wow, don’t get too excited,” I tease, hoping to pull him out of whatever dark cloud he’s wrapped himself in.
He glances up, his gaze flicking to mine for just a second before darting away. “I’m thrilled,” he says, deadpan.
I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “You know, this whole brooding act might work on other people, but not me. I know you, Damian.”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to snap at me. Instead, he exhales, long and slow, his shoulders slumping just a fraction.
“Barnaby staying here is a big deal for you,” he says finally, his voice quieter, almost reluctant. “You should focus on that.”
I should. But how can I, when the real thing consuming my thoughts is sitting right here, pretending like he doesn’t matter as much to me as the air I breathe?
“Maybe I don’t want to focus on my brother right now,” I say.
Damian’s hand stills on his mug, his eyes locking on mine for a beat too long. And just like that, the mask slips. I see the man underneath—the one who’s scared of his feelings. Scared of what would happen if the world knows who he is beneath the facade he set.
