I bit my lip and nodded, hugging the book tighter to my chest.
He continued, still not looking at me, voice quieter this time. “I want to hear about it. The book, I mean. What you think. How it ends.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, blinking down at the book. “I’ll read it,” I said softly. “A-all of it.”
He finally looked at me then, and for a second, the air shifted. Like the world paused between us, me sitting there holding something so fragile, and him looking like he didn’t know how to let go.
“Good,” he murmured, half a smile tugging at his mouth. “Guess I’ll have to cook again then. So you can tell me while we eat.”
I laughed quietly, shaking my head, pretending not to feel that pull in my chest again, the one that kept reminding me I shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t want him.
But it was Christmas; I didn’t want to think.
I just wanted to stay here a little longer with the book, the lights, Honey curled between us, and Joshua Lockhart pretending that our time wasn’t limited.
I moved from the counter to the living room and sank into the couch, book still in my lap, the warmth of the room wrapping around me like something I didn’t quite deserve.
The faint clatter of dishes came from the kitchen.
I looked up and saw a sight that made me softly smile to myself a bit: Joshua Lockhart, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair falling into his eyes, washing dishes like he wasn’t the same person who once terrified me.
And then there was Honey.
The tiny ball of fur was curled up perfectly in the hood of his hoodie, purring loud enough that I could hear it from here. Every time Joshua leaned forward to rinse a plate, Honey’s little head popped out before sinking back down again, like it was its own small wave.
I couldn’t help smiling more; it was too cute.
He didn’t even notice, too focused on not waking the kitten.
Brooding, cold, mean, sharp-edged Joshua Lockhart… had a kitten sleeping in his hoodie and was washing dishes on Christmas.
It didn’t make sense.
None of this did.
He’d been the cause of so much of my pain, and yet here he was, the only one who made sure I wasn’t alone, who quietly tried to fix what he broke in the only way he knew how.
Honey loved him.
That tiny creature followed him everywhere, trusted him without question, and fell asleep to his heartbeat.
Maybe because, somehow, even under all that frost, he was warm.
I looked down at my book again, pretending to read, but my eyes kept flicking back to him, to the small, ordinary gentleness of it all.
And I thought,maybe Honey’s onto something.
He was still drying the last plate when I finally found the courage to speak.
“H-hey.”
He turned, towel draped over his shoulder, brows furrowing a little as if he expected something serious. “Yeah?”
I hesitated. My fingers toyed with the edge of the book in my lap. Honey lifted her head from her sleep, blinking at me, as if even she wanted to hear what I’d say next.
I swallowed, forcing the words out before I could overthink them. “Are you… busy on the twenty-seventh?”
His brow arched. “The twenty-seventh of this month? Two days from now?”
