Page 5 of The Crush of Christmas Past
It started with kindness. Morphed into mentorship. Then, without warning, slipped into something deeper. A friendship that crawled under my skin and tattooed itself across my soul.
He’d seen me at my most vulnerable and chose to stay.
Until…he didn’t.
The odds were stacked against me from the start. At twenty-eight, Theo was brilliant and accomplished, already building an intimidating reputation at an elite advertising agency. I was a grief-stricken nineteen-year-old with nothing to my name but ghosts and a guest room under his parents’ roof.
His future burned bright. Mine was reduced to ashes by one bastard’s selfish choice to drive drunk. He was thriving while I fought for survival.
I knew better. Was well-aware I’d never measure up.
But I threw my whole heart at him anyway. Gave him everything I had.
Back then, I believed he was worth it.
The rejection struck. And stuck.
If nothing else, it cured me of my naive crush.
My feelings are now filed away in a folder labeledFailed Pitches and Other Disasters, stamped with a big, bold:Do Not Resuscitate.
“Isla,” Theo greets as he steps back to let us into the foyer.
“Theo.” I force my voice into cool, calm, collected territory.
Now if only my stupid heart would fall in line.
A beat of silence lags.
Nonchalance personified, he folds his arms across his chest with a calm authority that crackles through the room. The motion disturbs the air between us, sending a faint pulse of his scent my way.
Sharp pine. Crisp mint.
Warning swathed in want.
It ghosts over my skin, dragging old memories out of their graves.
Pressing my lips together, I hold my breath hostage, bracing against the sucker punch of déjà vu.
“Whoa. You’re here!” Asher shakes his head, voice hitching mid-exclamation like his brain is buffering the shock of his older brother’s presence. “Great. You can be the first to hear the exciting announcement.” His arm snakes around my waist—a second too late and a lot too tight.
If the move throws Theo, he doesn’t let on. He lifts a single eyebrow, wordlessly signalling Asher to keep going.
My golden retriever of a friend has many qualities. Subtlety isn’t one of them. The grin he flashes is as piercing as aBreaking Newsbanner. “Isla and I are dating!”
Theo’s eyes storm the spot where Asher’s fingers dig into my hip bone. “Dating.” The word is flat, but there is a hint of an edge under it.
He drags his gaze up, bypassing Asher with a slow blink, before leveling me with an achingly intimate glare.
The shudder that rocks through me is instant and entirely involuntary. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as heat and history ripple down my spine.
Steeling myself, I square my shoulders and compose my features into something that hopefully resembles mild disinterest.
His jaw ticks. My pulse trips.
Neither of us looks away.
We’re stuck in a silent stand-off until Asher’s loud, jarring hand clap snaps me out of the spell.
