“You’d have to ask him that.” Bhodi’s still studying me like a hawk on a fence post. “Are you…friends?”
The way he says it makes me feel like he can see every thought and emotion coursing through me. And I’m not used to that from my kind-hearted brother-in-law. He never hassles me about anything ever. He’s just fucking kind. He’s being kindnow, but I’ve tied myself in too many knots to unpick.
So I die quietly instead. Story of my life. And it fucking shouldn’t be. Not anymore.
Bhodi’s safe.
My brother’s safe.
I could tell them I’d murdered Father Christmas and they’d help me bury the body. If there’s anywhere I could take a breath and explain the current mess in my soul out loud, it’s with them. But every time the words snake past the rock in my throat, I hear Charmaine’s voice, glass-sharp and scathing, turning something that felt like an awakening into another symptom of broken weakness.
And I can’t un-hear it.
Can’t separate the way my chest tightens when I think of being with a bloke from the way it used to itch when I craved a line.
That’s her, not you.
I know that. As much as I know she tangled me up on purpose, pushing me into dirty water instead of letting me breathe. But knowledge isn’t always power. Sometimes it’s inaction and regret, and I miss my moment with Bhodi.
He lets it go.
At least, I think he has until he grabs my arm six feet from the fudge stall, tugging me back to where he’s rolled to a stop by a candlemaker who’s got the air smelling more like pinewood and fir than the actual giant Christmas tree outside.
“You know you can talk to me, right? I wouldn’t tell Tam anything unless you were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“Sab.” Bhodi gives me that look again. “Come on. I see you talking to blokes all the time—I seeGalentalking to blokes all the time, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he was looking at you back there.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that then?”
“Like you have his full attention.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and my gut twists like the tinsel around the huge tree behind Bhodi. “He’s just being nice.”
A beat passes. A heavy clod of air where Tam might’ve pushed me harder. Backed me into a corner where there’s no escape but a truth I’m still figuring out.
Bhodi, though. He just gives me a hug. “Galenisnice,” he whispers. “All the A&E nurses love him.”
Good for them.
Good forGalen.
Knowing he’s charming to other people does nothing to quiet the blaring noise in my head as I trail Bhodi to where Tam and Esme are eating fudge by Santa’s grotto. She’s already clutching a present from the first time I took her in when we got here this morning. Tam’s tied the ribbon from her lunchtime visit into a sparkly bow in her soft dark hair. Because I’m shit at the intricate stuff.
All those years ago, though, when my brother came off his bike, so was he.
But things change.
People change.
And maybe so do I.
Days go by. A week, maybe.
I lose track.
I’m crazy busy at work, fitting kitchens for everyone who wants them done by the big day. I do my Christmas shopping and take Esme to get a tiny real tree for our living room, though we both prefer the one in the garden that’s probably confusing passing aircraft with the amount of lights she’s talked me into stringing around it. I even talk to my parents. But it’s a conversation that’s a whole lot of nothing. I love them. They loveme. But we’re not that close. They’re more interested in Esme than me and I’m okay with that.
