Page 43 of Celebrating the Season

“Okay.” I was honestly surprised my voice still worked. “I’ll leave today, then.”

Ellery nodded, taking another bite of the pancake. I watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed, remembering how it felt under my lips last night. God, had that really been the last time I’d get to touch him? “Gotta get back to the real world sometime.”

The real world. Right. Where I didn’t belong in his life. Where we were two guys who’d had a good time, nothing more.

My eyes burned, and I blinked, refocusing on my barely-touched breakfast. The eggs had gone cold, congealing unappetizingly on the plate. My stomach churned at the thought of eating.

“Yeah,” I managed after a moment. “Real world. Can’t avoid it forever, I guess.”

Ellery’s reaction was minimal—a subtle nod and a noncommittal grunt as he continued eating. The silence that followed was deafening, filled with all the things we weren’t saying. I could almost feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on us, creating tension so thick I could barely breathe.

I desperately wanted to fill that silence, to let my usual chatter spill out and drown the ache in my chest. But for once, words failed me. What could I possibly say that wouldn’t reveal how much I was falling apart inside?

Instead, I watched Ellery finish his breakfast, his movements precise and controlled. It was like watching a stranger, not the man who’d held me so tenderly. The distance between us felt insurmountable, and I had no idea how to bridge it.

“More coffee?” I blurted out, needing to do something, anything, to break this unbearable tension.

Ellery looked up, those beautiful blue eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. “Nah, I’m good.”

Three words. That was all I got. I swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to cry or scream or beg him to let me stay. Instead, I nodded and returned to staring at my plate, wishing I could disappear into the floor.

I risked another glance at Ellery, drinking in the sight of his salt-and-pepper beard, the strong line of his jaw. Memorizing every detail to replay later when I was alone again in my crappy LA apartment.

He met my gaze, and I quickly looked away, face flushing. God, I was so obvious. He had to know how I felt. And if he’d felt the same way, he would’ve never sent me away.

So he didn’t. And I didn’t have the courage to ask him if he’d fallen for me as hard as I had for him. So I sat there in aching silence, my heart breaking with every tick of the clock that brought me closer to leaving.

My mind raced, replaying every moment we’d shared. The warmth of his embrace, the tenderness in his touch, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at my jokes. How could all of that mean nothing? I felt like I was drowning, gasping for air in a sea of what-ifs and maybes.

The hours crawled by, each minute stretching into an eternity. I busied myself packing, my hands shaking as I folded clothes and tucked away mementos of our time together. All the while, my heart screamed at me to unpack, to plant my feet and refuse to leave. But I couldn’t. Not when Ellery wanted me gone.

Finally, as the afternoon sun began to dip, I knew I couldn’t delay any longer. My voice sounded hollow and foreign to my own ears as I called out, “I’m heading out.”

There was a brief pause, heavy with possibility. For one wild moment, I thought he might ask me to stay. Instead, he stood, his face an unreadable mask. “Alright.”

I blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. Was this how it was going to end?

I steeled myself as Ellery approached, my heart hammering against my ribs. When he leaned in for a goodbye kiss, my resolve crumbled. His lips met mine, and I poured everything I had into that kiss—all my longing, my desire, my desperate need for him to understand what he meant to me.

The familiar warmth of his mouth, the scratch of his beard against my skin, the solid strength of his body—I tried to memorize it all. My fingers clutched at his shirt, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

As we parted, I searched his eyes for any sign, any hint that he felt the same storm of emotions I did. But they remained impassive, giving nothing away.

“I…” The words stuck in my throat. What could I say? That I loved him? That I wanted to stay? That I was terrified of walking away? Instead, I mumbled, “Thanks for everything, Ellery.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

Kid. The word stung, reminding me of the age gap between us, of all the reasons this might never work. I forced a smile and turned away, afraid he’d see the tears threatening to spill over.

“I’ll text you if I’m ever back in Forestville,” I said without looking back.

“Please do.”

Each step toward my car felt like I was wading through molasses. My bag seemed to weigh a ton, dragging me down as surely as the ache in my chest. I wanted to run back, throw myself into Ellery’s arms and beg him to give us a chance. But I kept moving forward, one leaden foot in front of the other.

As I reached for the car door, I hesitated, glancing back at the cabin. Ellery stood in the doorway, watching me. For a moment, our eyes locked, and I saw a flicker of something—Regret? Longing?—cross his face. But then he turned and disappeared inside, leaving me alone with the weight of my decision.

I peeled out of Ellery’s driveway, gravel crunching under my tires as I accelerated too fast. The snow-covered pines blurred past my windows, but I barely saw them. My vision swam, tears threatening to spill over at any moment.

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