Page 33 of Christmas With My Mountain Man Landlord
The walk back is silent and tense, our earlier closeness replaced by careful distance. The trail that seemed magical on the way out now feels endless, each step taking us further from the connection we shared just an hour ago.
By the time we reach the house, the sun is setting, casting long shadows across pristine snow. Inside, the warmth that welcomed us this morning now feels stifling, the space too small for our unresolved conflict.
"I think I need some space," Kelsie says, removing her coat with deliberate movements. "I'm going to write for a while."
"Fine." I hang my jacket with more force than necessary. "I have reports to review anyway."
We separate to opposite ends of the house, the distance between us measured in more than just feet. I retreat to my office, staring unseeing at paperwork while replaying our conversation.
Had I overreacted? Possibly. But the thought of Mason discussing me with Kelsie, however obliquely, feels like a violation of trust I wasn't prepared for.
More than that, it reminds me that their connection predates ours. That when this temporary arrangement ends, Kelsie returns to her real life with information about me I can't retract. With stories she could share with her brother, comparing his professional insights with her personal experiences.
The thought makes me physically ill.
Hours pass, the house quiet except for occasional footsteps upstairs. Around eight, I hear Kelsie in the kitchen but make no move to join her. The smell of something cooking wafts under my office door, but hunger is the furthest thing from my mind.
My phone buzzes with a text from Savannah.
Savannah:Just checking that we're still on for Christmas planning this weekend? Colt's excited to hear your ideas for the dinner.
Christmas.Another holiday to endure. Another performance of normalcy for my daughter's sake.
Me: I'll be there.
I reply,though nothing feels certain right now.
Another hour passes before a soft knock interrupts my brooding. I don't answer, but the door opens anyway, revealing Kelsie with a plate in hand.
"I made dinner," she says, her voice carefully neutral. "Thought you might be hungry."
"I'm fine." The coolness in my tone contradicts the statement.
She sets the plate on my desk anyway. "You need to eat."
"I don't need you taking care of me," I snap, immediately regretting the harshness.
Her face closes off completely. "Fine. Starve if that's what you want."
She turns to leave, then pauses at the doorway. "For the record, I've never discussed your therapy with Mason. Not once. And I'm hurt that you would think I'd violate your privacy that way."
"Then why did he tell you to be careful with my heart?" The question still burns, needing an answer.
"Because he's my brother and he cares about both of us." She sighs, shoulders slumping. "And maybe because I've been hurt too, Tom. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe he's worried about us both getting in too deep too fast."
The simple explanation cuts through some of my paranoia, but pride keeps me from acknowledging it. "Whatever helps you sleep tonight."
Her eyes flash with renewed anger. "You know what? I think I'll sleep in the guest room tonight. Give us both some space to cool off."
The prospect of sleeping alone after experiencing the comfort of her presence hits harder than expected. "If that's what you want."
"It's not about what I want." Her voice catches. "It's about what we both seem to need right now. Some distance to figure out if this is worth pursuing or if we're just setting ourselves up for more pain."
Silence settles between us, neither willing to be the first to offer reassurance. Finally, she speaks again, her voice quieter.
"I've spent three years being made to feel like I couldn't be trusted. Like my words and intentions were always suspect. I won't go back to that, Tom. Not even for you."
She closes the door before I can respond, her footsteps retreating upstairs. I sit motionless, her words echoing in my mind.
