Page 62 of Santa of the Creek
“You are the best thing I’ve seen all day,” I call out as I lope toward him. He’s so cute, dressed in the Santa suit under his long coat for his last gig at the Bash, the red hat on his head.
I grin at him as he looks up, and I hold out my arms. “I’m free! I don’t know how long I’ll stay awake, but I’m all yours.”
Dean stays where he is, not returning my smile. I falter, letting my arms drop to my side. Why does he look so upset?
“I’m sorry,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I go still, watching him carefully. “You’re sorry?”
He nods, and he won’t meet my gaze.
“What are you sorry for?” I keep my tone gentle though I want to yell at him.
“I can’t do this,” he bursts out.
“Do what?”
He turns away from me, his shoulders slumped. “Us. I can’t do us.”
“Why not?” What happened between me leaving for work and now? Something has spooked him, it’s plain to see. But what the heck has scared him so much? He’s like the nervous, unhappy man I first met. I thought we’d gotten past that stage. “Dean, talk to me.”
“Marty.”
I hold back a sigh. “What about Marty?”
He licks his lips nervously. “I don’t deserve to be happy.”
I blink at that. What the hell? “Of course you deserve to be happy, honey. Everyone deserves to be happy.”
“I had my happiness. It should be enough.”
I press my lips together. “We need to talk.”
He shakes his head. “I need to get back to the grotto.”
“I’m coming with you. I don’t care what happens with us…” Liar, of course I care. But getting this stupid idea out of his head is more important. “But I’m your friend and I have your back.”
Dean looks up, regarding me for the first time, his expression startled. “You still want to be friends, even though we just broke up?”
It’s a sharp reminder that where love is concerned, the man has the emotional maturity of the eighteen-year-old he’d been when Marty died.
I shiver, the cold wind sweeping around the parking lot cutting through me. “When do you need to be at the grotto?”
“Four. I did an early shift, but they need me again.”
Dammit, no time to take him home and talk.
“Let’s walk, hon.”
“You want to walk back to the Bash?”
I need a clear head and time to handle this conversation, but I’m not going to tell him that. I nod, and he falls into step next to me.
I walk for a while before I speak. “Tell me what happened today, Dean.”
He takes so long to speak I think he’s going to deny anything happened.
“Marty’s parents brought their granddaughter to the grotto.”
