Page 54 of Must Love Christmas

Alone in his room, Simon checked the small jotter beside the vivarium, the one where he kept his Poppy-related notes and schedules. Garen had documented her shedding process, which had just completed yesterday. He’d also noted when he’d fed her a frozen-thawed mouse, writing “YUM!” in the comments column. Simon was relieved Poppy hadn’t gone off food in his absence.

He longed to hold his beloved python, but not only would his shaky hands alarm her, he’d risk picking up a salmonella infection.

It didn’t matter, he reminded himself, as he made his way to the bed. Snakes didn’t fancy being touched—handling them was more for the purpose of taming and human enjoyment. So she wouldn’t exactly be pining for Simon’s loving arms.

Still, it would’ve been nice…

His walking frame bumped the bed, and Simon realized he’d forgotten to turn round so he could sit. He was still mastering the side step, which he now needed to get outside the frame and onto the bed.

Okay, focus.He flipped the locks on the frame’s wheels to stabilize it. In the kitchen, the kettle dinged.

Simon leaned over and put a hand on the bedside table to steady himself, mentally reciting an abbreviated version of his physio’s instructions:

1. Right knee up, enough to keep the toes from dragging.

2. Right foot forward—no,back—but not too far.

3. Foot down.

4. Shift weight.

5. Repeat on the—

Simon wobbled. He’d leaned back too far when he’d shifted his weight. A shot of panic ripped through him. He was spinning, falling…

“What sort of tea do you—whoa! Got you.” Garen was behind him, supporting Simon with his own body. He fumbled for a moment, his hands first on Simon’s waist, then his hips. “Where do you want to go?”

“Bed.”

“Good.”

They tipped over to land together, much more awkwardly than they’d once done on Garen’s bed…had it been more than six weeks ago already? How diminished Simon’s body felt today compared to that night.

But Garen had yet to let go of him. In fact, he was gazing at Simon, his eyes twinkling in the faerie lights. “It’s good to have you here at last,” he whispered.

“It’s good…” Simon felt his voice tremble in his throat. “It’s good to be home.”

Home.Was this the first time he’d used that word to describe this flat? Though he’d slept beneath a different ceiling for the last month, this one finally felt like his own, all because of the man lying beside him.

As Garen started to roll toward Simon, the sound of crumpling paper came from his jacket pocket. “Oh!” The noise seemed to jerk him out of an enchanted state. “I almost forgot.” He tried to tug his arm free, but it was stuck under Simon’s shoulders.

“Sorry.” Simon pushed himself to sit up on the edge of the bed, shifting away from Garen at the same time.

Garen pulled out a green paper flyer and unfolded it. “Something for you to work towards.”

Simon took the flyer and read the bewildering contents. “A 5K race?”

“Not just any 5K—the Santa Dash. It’s a tradition here in Glasgow. People dress like Santa for the race and raise money for a cancer charity. My mates and I did it last year, and it was a belter, so we’re doing it again.” He retrieved his phone from the other jacket pocket. “I’ll show you a video.”

“Garen, I can’t run five meters, much less five kilometers.”

“But I bet you couldrollfive kilometers. Loads of wheelchair users do the Santa Dash.”

Simon wasn’t sure his arms would last that long. The thought of failing to finish such a short race…

He looked at the date. “This is in six days. I doubt I’ll be ready.”

“Tell you what: Ask your physio if it’s okay. If she says yes, then we’ll make a plan. You tell me how far you think you can wheel yourself, then we’ll go over the route—see where there’s hills and all—and work out which parts I’ll be pushing you, so you can finish on your own.” He bumped his shoulder against Simon’s. “The most important thing in a race is to finish, right? Finish strong?”

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