Page 37 of Fake It for Christmas

“Hey,” I said gently, walking over.

He seemed surprised, turning quickly to see who it was. He lifted the heel of his palm to his cheek as if he was wiping away a tear, but if he’d actually had one, he did a great job of hiding it.

“I love that I can see you from a mile away with those light-up overalls,” he said, smiling softly as he looked me up and down. “So damn cute, Shane.”

“Are you okay, Rowen?” I asked, joining him against the railing of the deck.

I expected the same response as usual from him. Something about not wanting to talk about his past, or refusing to talk about New York.

Instead, he just sighed. I could see his breath in the cold air, and as we looked out toward the distant main street, I watched a traffic light change from red to green and yellow, then back again.

“I don’t miss New York,” he finally said, his voice strangely sad. “I don’t miss it, and that feels wrong.”

I furrowed my brow. “Why?”

He met my eyes, that same hollow sadness making its way to his gaze. “Because it was my dream for so long. My home for so long. I’m supposed to hate it here in Tennessee, but I don’t anymore. I’m loving it here more and more every day, and starting to dread going back to the city.”

I paused for a moment. “I mean, what’s wrong with that?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s… complicated.”

“Nowhere’sthe part where you don’t want to talk about your life.”

“Yes,” he said, his tone sharper than I’d ever heard it.

His eyes were like fire now, burning right into me.

“Sorry, I—”

“I don’t want to talk about my life,” he said just as firmly. He really was upset—much more upset than I’d realized. “I’m never going to want to talk about it, and I can promise you that you are better off not hearing about it, okay, Shane?”

I felt like I’d just been rocked like a ship in a storm.

Pent-up frustration had just exploded out of Rowen like he’d been holding it back for a long time.

And of course, as usual, he wouldn’t tell me what it was even about.

“Fine,” I said. “Never tell me. After the Christmas party we can just go back to being strangers again, anyway.”

He was silent for a long while. With every passing second, my heart ached more, and I just wanted to take back every little thing I’d said.

I didn’t mean that.

I want to know you. So badly.

I never want to be strangers with you again.

But I found myself saying nothing. The quiet sounds of the street filtered up to fill the air, and the ambient music and laughter from the bar sometimes floated past the big glass doors on the patio.

Rowen and I said nothing, though.

He only broke the silence a couple of minutes later, pulling in a long breath. “I need to head home. If you want a ride, I’ll give you one.”

I just stared down at a row of hedges along the side of the building next door. “I’ll walk. It’s not far.”

He waited for a moment. “Are you sure about that? You’re not going to get too cold?”

“I like the cold. And I need the walk. Good night, Rowen.”

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