Christmas is Cancelled

chapter Five





“Welcome to the Wilds of Bleakden,” said Dean, uncovering her eyes.

“Wow!” She spun around in a circle, trying to take it all in. It was like being on top of the world, and even though she knew the village was only the other side of the neighboring hill, it was completely hidden from view. The only sign of civilization was a small stone hut sheltered inside a thicket of trees. There wasn’t a word big enough, powerful enough to describe what she was feeling and seeing. “Just...wow!”

“I knew you’d love it.” His voice sounded tight, emotional.

“It’s incredible.” Her body gave up trying to choose between laughter and crying, opting to do both at the same time.

Dean came to stand behind her, resting his hands around her waist, and she leaned back into him, glad for the extra support. He brought his cheek down to rest on her head and wrapped his arms around her, his scent and warmth invading her. It was almost a carbon copy of the beach pose in the photograph. The man was giving off so many mixed messages it was making her head spin.

She’d felt his need, tasted his passion, but then he’d push her away again, like he couldn’t help himself. He’d even said as much. “I want to...but I can’t.” And what had happened to the new, risk-taking Tilly? She’d crumbled at the first sign of conflict just like she always did and had run away instead of facing the ugly truth when she had the chance.

Could his rejection be all Phil’s doing, or did it go deeper? Only time would tell whether bumping into Dean again was a blessing or a curse, but if he wanted her so badly, so desperately, then at least she had hope. She sighed wistfully and snuggled in deeper.

He murmured in her ear, “Penny for them?”

Crap! “I was just thinking how we could be the last two people left on Earth out here.” There was no harm in driving home the point, and it was along the same lines as what she’d been thinking so it wasn’t an outright lie.

“Yeah...”

They stood together on the summit, breathing in the crisp, clean air and letting the bitterly cold wind whip past them. It could have been minutes or hours for all she knew; she’d lost all track of time and didn’t want the moment to end but she couldn’t help shivering. Either it was her imagination or the air temperature was dropping. Fast. The wind had picked up, and the watery sun was disappearing behind a wall of white sky.

“Isn’t that—”

“Damn it!” He’d noticed at the same time and was ushering her into the hut as the first snowflakes fell. Closing the door securely behind them, he pitched them into complete darkness. She couldn’t see a thing, but he seemed to know his way around and was rummaging nearby.

A flame burst into life, the flare from the match burned into her eyes, making it difficult to see even as he lit a candle and filled the windowless room with a pale yellow glow. “So what is this place?” she asked, her vision slowly clearing. The hut was sparse inside, just a wooden bunk and some kind of unit, like a sideboard, with one drawer wide open revealing a dozen more candles.

“It’s an old sheep den or for shepherds out tending their flock or something. I’m not really sure of its history, but it’s used as a hiker’s lodge now. There’s a few of them dotted around.” He darted a nervous glance at her. “They provide shelter, if you’re out walking and the weather turns.”

Ah... “Like now, you mean?” Stranded for the second time in twenty-four hours, it was so ridiculous it was almost laughable.

He collapsed back onto the bunk and put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry. I’m usually really careful about checking the weather reports before I set off.”

She sat beside him, snuggling into him for warmth and trying to regain the feeling in the tips of her fingers. “How long do you think we’ll be here?” At least she wasn’t alone this time, and there were definitely far worse people to be stranded with. She might even be able to use it to her advantage if her risk-taking side ever showed her face again.

“I don’t know. I really am sorry. I can check outside and see if it’s worth making a run for it,” he said, starting to get up.

“No, honestly, it’s fine,” she said, putting her hand on his leg to stop him. “And stop apologizing; you didn’t do it on purpose. It would actually be quite cozy if it weren’t so damned cold.”

A smile broke across his worried face. “Ah, now that I should be able to fix.” This time she did let him stand, only to watch him get down on his hands and knees. “Could you lift your legs up, please?”

He stretched his arm beneath the bunk, then dragged a metal casket full of coal from underneath and quickly set about constructing a fire in the hearth she hadn’t even spotted. With a deft flick, he tossed a couple of lit matches into the pile and then sat back down beside her. The two small flames spread quickly and shades of blue and orange flickered and danced before her eyes, building into one roaring fire within a matter of minutes.

“Nice one! I wonder what other treasures our little retreat holds.”

It wasn’t nearly as exciting as she hoped, but she did warm up enough to remove her coat. There were more candles, more matches, more coal, as well as a bottle containing over two-thirds of an amber liquid, claiming to be whiskey, but she didn’t want to be the first to make sure. Another drawer contained some wool blankets, so she shook them out, then threw them over the unsuspecting Dean, busy staring at the flames.

“Hey!”

Chuckling at his yelp, she watched him struggle and then turned back to the drawer to close it. Hidden beneath the blankets was a book, a fairly old looking leather bound visitor’s book.

Jackpot!

“Hey, look at this!” she said, sitting down and turning to the first page. “Wow, the first entry is from twenty-two years ago.”

Breaking free from beneath the blankets, he looked at what she was holding and went very still. His face became taut, and the shadows that sometimes lurked in his eyes came to the fore.

“Dean, what is it?” The book looked innocent enough, but it was obviously disturbing him. “Talk to me. Please?”

He dragged his haunted gaze off the open book and turned it on her. “What would you do if I asked you not to read that book?” His voice bordered on monotone. He was an empty shell, and his expression had her thoroughly spooked.

“Why?” Dean didn’t do scared. What on earth could be in there to get him so rattled? Unless... “Have you written in here?”

He barely managed a nod.

“Is this your Christmas tradition?” she asked, holding the book up.

He practically flinched, then closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, leaving a sooty smudge between his eyes and joining his eyebrows together. Finally, he nodded again. “Then say no more.”

She closed the book and put it back where she found it, slamming the drawer with a flourish to let him know it was gone. If only her curiosity was so easy to put away. When she turned back round, Dean was already up on his feet. He grabbed her and clung to her, burying his face in her hair. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice so choked up it made her want to cry.

She hugged him back fiercely. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”



***



Dean held on to Tilly and took several deep breaths. She was warm and soft in his arms. Her scent filled his senses and did little to calm his racing pulse. It made things worse, if anything, adding a dash of desire to the already heady mix of terror and relief.

If she hadn’t realized something was wrong before, she did now. When she’d held his secrets right there in her hands, he’d wanted to snatch the damned book off her lap and throw it in the fire, yet she’d put it away—just like that—no third degree, no reprimands, nothing. Actually no, not nothing, she was trying to console him.

Him!

Everything wasn’t okay though, everything was pretty f*cked up. Another Christmas, another crisis. He should be used to it by now. It was the story of his life. The walls closed in on him, pushing them together until he couldn’t possibly think straight with her so near, tantalizing him, threatening to ruin him. He needed to get out of there, put some space between them. Even if it meant leaving her alone with the book.

“Could I borrow your phone, please?” he asked, giving her one more squeeze. He had to force his arms to let go, knowing it could be the last time he got to hold her. “I left mine at home.”

“Sure.” She sounded nervous but reached into her coat pocket and dropped it into his outstretched palm anyway.

“Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute.” A streak of bright light and a gust of wind burst into the hut when he opened the door, and his stomach flipped. “I’m going to see how it looks out there.”

Closing the door behind him, he didn’t even trust himself enough to risk a backward glance. He pressed himself against the cold wood of the door, his feet taking root. Focusing on getting his heart rate back under control, he took one breath after another, but it did nothing to ease the pain.

There was the very real possibility she wouldn’t want to see him again, and it cut into him like a knife. Yeah, it was all well and good in principle—he’d be able to see out his promise to Phil, and Tilly would be able to get on with her life—so why, if it was the right thing to do, did it have to hurt so much?

Dean wanted to wrench the door open and throw himself at her mercy, but he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her either. She was far too good for the likes of him. The sense of inevitability built in his gut, niggling and uncomfortable, all too aware that he was running out of reasons to say no. At least if she did read the damn thing, she’d have crossed a line. Knowing Tilly, though, there was every chance she’d stay true to her word.

Finally making his feet move, he stumbled away from the hut, not paying attention to where he was headed. Anywhere was great as long as it lead him away from temptation. Her phone weighed heavy in his hand as he wandered around, trying to find a signal. Betraying his honor...the fall-out with Phil... Neither one was as scary as letting Tilly go.

It was time to call in the cavalry.