Page 29 of Falling

“Did Steve manage to get the place locked up? Are the rest of my things safe?”

“Yeah. Someone’s dropping a new key round later—did you want to go back?”

My stomach turns over at the loneliness the trashed place represents and how hiding in Dylan’s high security world appeals to my need for safety. “Is it okay for me to sleep here for another night or two..."

Dylan laughs. “Sure, this place is slightly bigger than the last one we were forced to share.”

“Just a bit.”

“Besides, I’m not letting you spend Christmas on your own.”

“I keep forgetting it’s almost Christmas.”

“Weird day yesterday.”

“Weird few months.” He bites his lip and looks away, so I hastily add, “Did you have Christmas plans? I’ll get out of here before then. I don’t want to be in the way.”

Dylan flips his phone over in his hands. “I hate Christmas. I’m a total Scrooge. Or have been since I was about twelve. Besides, I don’t have any family to visit and Christmas is for families, right?”

No family—at twenty-four he should have family around. I doubt this is something he wants to talk about from his distant expression.

“And kids—and you’re a big kid.”

Dylan pouts and I fight back a smile. “True. But Christmas still sucks.”

I point at the huge Christmas tree in one corner, small gifts underneath, tastefully decorated. “Why do you have a tree then?”

“Myf. She wanted me to spend Christmas with her and Miles, but I’m not interested.”

“Have a non-Christmas.”

“Christmas is just another day to me, but I think it means more to you?” asks Dylan.

“I think the Christmas thing is the reinforcement of how everything is different now. How life has changed this year.”

Dylan studies me and we both know I’m referring to Grant too. “You know what happens after Christmas?”

“Stomach-aches and crash diets?”

“Funny, Sky. I missed your humour. No, New Year. A new year for you. For… me.”

He corrects himself sharply and I realise he was going to say us.

“We both have a lot we need to face,” I tell him.

He reaches across and curls his fingers around my hand. "One day at a time? How about we start today and do something together?”

I start at his touch, relishing the warmth of his protective hand around mine. "We can't look for shells on the beach or go to tacky tourist shops so what do we do?"

"A proper date?" he suggests, watching me warily. "But somewhere nicer than a fish and chip shop."

A chance to reconnect and see how we go—where we go from here.

“Where?”

“I know a nice restaurant or two?” he suggests.

“Define ‘nice’.” I picture expensive and definitely not me.

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