Page 30 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“A friend,” Rowan says. He looks at me, and I half hope he’ll put his arm around me again, like he did inside. What does it say about me that Iwantto be treated like a strumpet?

“I’m Kennedy,” I tell Jay, reaching for a handshake. Rowan scowls at me, and I can definitely feel Harry frowning at me from a distance, but I doubt Rowan’s stepfather is on Nana Mayberry’s speed dial, and he doesn’t strike me as a particularly gossip-hungry man. He’s not going to slap photos of me up on the internet.

“Pleased to meet you, Kennedy,” he says, shaking hands. His face contorts slightly as we shake, and I can’t help but wonder if something’s wrong with his arm. I feel a wash of concern for him. Was he injured? Should he really be picking up an ax right now? I don’t like the idea of him going into the woods by himself if a handshake makes him wince…

“Maybe Rowan should help you with your tree,” I blurt.

Rowan shoots me an accusatory look. It occurs to me that I might be stepping on toes without realizing it. Rowan sounded nothing but fond of Jay, but there might be underlying family dynamics I don’t understand. Or maybe he’s reached his tree-chopping quota for the day. Still, he doesn’t hesitate to nod to his stepfather. “Yeah, of course I’ll help you, Jay.”

“How’d you two meet?” Jay asks, ignoring the tree offer.

“Through friends,” I say with a smile.

Rowan looks uncomfortable.

I canfeelHarry’s growing discomfort. If a look could reach across a short distance and shake a person, this one would.

Oliver hustles up as if to pop the discomfort bubble, giving everyone the kind of friendly smile Rowan only seems capable of in stolen moments. “Good to see you, Jay. It’s been a hot minute.”

Jay grins at him. “I was just saying so to your buddy here. He’s gotten too busy to answer my calls, I guess, not that I blamehim. The last thing kids your age want to do is hang out with an old man.”

Oliver laughs heartily. “Rowan’s never been a kid. I’m pretty sure he darns his socks at night by candlelight.”

“Very funny,” Rowan says, but he seems relieved by the interruption, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with Jay before Oliver came up.

Harry hustles up to me and takes my arm. He smells of tree sap and apple cider. It’s pleasant, and I’m hit with a pang of sadness. When we leave, we’ll have to leave Christmas behind too. Labelle Manor is all sharp edges and strange embellishments, from the huge ceramic goat in the eastern corridor to the princess bed in my room. It’s not the kind of place you can curl up in and feel peaceful.

“We need to leave,” he whispers. “Now.”

“I know,” I say. And I do. But I don’t move toward the car or wave in farewell. I’m just…not quite ready. Rowan revealed his vulnerable side, and I don’t want to look away. Not yet.

Harry frowns at me, and I’m sure he’s about to say something about the show. Then he leans down, showing me his head.

“Did that squirrel leave marks on my scalp?”

There are a few little scrapes, as if made by tiny claws, and I’m about to say something when Oliver says “Oh, shit,” his voice full of panic, and there’s a muted thump. I look over at them, alarmed, and see that Jay’s sitting on the ground, Rowan crouched over him.

“Did he fall?” I ask, feeling stupid even as the words leave my lips.

“Rowan caught him,” Oliver says. “We need an ambulance.”

“Call the guys,” Rowan says, handing his phone to Oliver. His face is expressionless, but his eyes are fathomless depths of worry and fear, and the look in them pierces all the way down to my soul. For some reason, they seek me out, and I find myselfremoving the sunglasses and stowing them in my pocket so that our gazes can lock, nothing in between us. A second passes before he looks back down at Jay. “I think he’s having a heart attack.”

I don’t even think. I practically leap across the few steps separating us, the urge inside me undeniable:Go to him. Go to him.

Olive’s grandmother died in front of us when we were little girls. She was there one minute, gone the next, so the first thing I do is look in Jay’s eyes. He’s still there. Even though he looks groggy and woozy, he’s conscious. He’s alive.

“I’m okay,” he croaks as Rowan unzips his coat and loosens the collar of his shirt.

“No, you’re not fucking okay,” Rowan says. “But you’re going to be. You’regoing to be.”

There’s ferocity behind the words. The promise that Rowan Mayberry will chase down the Grim Reaper himself if he dares to take this man. Maybe that’s why Jay has a slight smile despite the lines of pain surrounding his eyes.

My heart is in knots.

I barely register Oliver making a call. Suddenly, though, he’s crouched near us. Then he’s saying, “They’re coming with an ambulance, Rowan. A few minutes.”

Rowan nods, but his eyes are on his stepfather. “Come on, Jay. You’ve got to hold on. Just a little while. They’re gonna be here.”

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