by Zoe Chant
Abigail’s stomach flipped over as she wondered briefly if Jasper had seen it one of the nights he’d been here— God, that would have been embarrassing.
She shook herself. As if that matters now. You’re probably never going to see him again.
She pulled her clothes on quickly. The toy should have gone straight in the garbage. She didn’t know what she was thinking, trying to fix it up. She snatched it up and marched back through to the kitchenette.
Abigail paused, holding the kitten plushie over the garbage bin. One bead-eye glittered back at her. Her chest twisted.
“Damn it,” she muttered, and threw the toy onto the countertop. It skidded to stop next to her handbag. “I can’t even throw out a stupid toy? What the hell is wrong with me?”
She checked the clock. Half an hour to opening… if the shop was going to open again. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach.
“What do you mean, the shop isn’t opening today?”
Abigail pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, trying to block out the icy wind that was whipping through the town square. Mr. Bell huffed at her, his white cloud of breath racing away on the air. He gestured up at the shop, where bright DO NOT CROSS streamers had been plastered over the Christmas tinsel.
“Isn’t safe, Abby-babby.” Abigail winced at the nickname, but Mr. Bell chuckled to himself, not noticing. “We’ve been completely banned from setting foot in the place until the builders can get in properly and check it out.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve!”
Mr. Bell laughed again and slapped Abigail on the shoulder. “Would you believe it! My first Christmas Eve off in twenty years.” He sighed happily and patted Abigail on the shoulder again grinning. “All because you were working late, eh? That deserves a bonus! Now, stop sulking, and enjoy your day off!”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked off, whistling. Abigail stared after him. She wasn’t imagining it. Mr. Bell, who in all the time she’d worked for him seemed to only have two emotional settings— “grumpy” and “furious”— was actually whistling. And when he’d smiled at her, she didn’t have the feeling he was holding himself back from biting her head off.
Have I wandered into the Twilight Zone? Abigail wondered, and shivered. Twilight Zone or not, it was still Christmas Eve. And she wasn’t going to wait around for it to get any worse.
Her first stop was the grocery store. What with Jasper— she grimaced— well, what with everything, she hadn’t managed to do her usual prep shopping earlier in the week. If she kept her head down, she didn’t have to see all the shoppers on their last-minute food runs. That didn’t save her from hearing them, though. Parents, grandparents, children— all half-frazzled and half-drunk with the joy of the season.
In the frozen section, Abigail grabbed blindly at ready-meals, not bothering to check what she was piling into her basket. So long as it was food, that was good enough.
There was a big display of red wine at the end of the aisle. The bottles had little packets of mulling spices taped to their necks. Abigail swallowed.
No. I’m not going back to that so-called solution. My Christmas System is best when it doesn’t include getting blind drunk. Anyway… She blinked hard. Mulled wine just made her think of Jasper, now, and going sledding with those adorable dogs. She put her head down and headed for the checkouts.
Voices pressed in on her as she waited in line. She looked down, focusing on the armful of frozen meals in her basket, but couldn’t help overhearing other shoppers’ conversations. She was almost at the front of the queue when the older woman in front of her gave a cry of delight and reached past her to greet someone further back.
“Jeanine! Shopping again?”
Abigail could practically feel the other woman’s smile lasering into the back of her head. “Yes! You know, we had almost given up hope that Jared would be home for Christmas, but guess who turned up this morning?”
“Oh, how lovely! You’ll have the whole family together!”
The shopping basket handle was cutting into Abigail’s fingers.
“I was worried for a while that he wouldn’t come, how silly of me! Jared loves his family far too much to leave us all alone at Christmas. And you should just see the presents he’s brought…”
Abigail felt like her head was in a vice. She glanced up at the front of the queue. “The checkout’s free,” she muttered, hoping the older woman would take the hint and hurry to the counter. Her tongue felt thick and clumsy, and her ears were buzzing.
If I have to listen to another minute of happy families, I’m going to scream, she thought desperately.
“Oh— dear?” Someone tapped her shoulder. “Are you all right? You’re looking a little peaky.”
Abigail looked up. The older woman was staring into her face, looking concerned.
“I’m fine,” Abigail said quickly. Her voice was more of a snarl, and she had to clear her throat. Damn it. This is why I always do my shopping early… “Look, there’s a checkout free up there—”
“You take my space, dear, while I talk to my friend.”
Who does that woman think she is? Abigail fumed to herself as she stalked down the cold streets. Rubbing it in everyone’s faces that, oh, her husband or son or whatever would travel a thousand miles to see her for Christmas— and Mr. Bell? I’ve worked for him for how many years, and he’s—
She came to a stop outside her apartment building, suddenly exhausted. He’s giving me a day off. Which most people would see as a good thing. And that woman at the shop was just excited. And she let you cut ahead in line. Her shoulders slumped. She was just excited. And Mr. Bell was excited, too. He’s worked every Christmas Eve same as you have. He’s probably looking forward to spending it… with his family…
All the events of the last twenty-four hours came crashing down on her like an avalanche, thick and heavy and suffocating. She pushed through the front door and sagged against the inside wall, panting. Was this really what she’d turned into? Someone who saw the worst in people, even when they’d done nothing but be nice to her?
This is why you have the System, she reminded herself, trying to corral her fluttering emotions. The Christmas System. Work, and sleep, and don’t talk to anyone, don’t see anyone, because you’re not worth being around at Christmas.
A hole opened up in her chest, which was stupid, because she knew all of this. Telling it to herself was meant to calm her down. Make her understand she had everything under control. Not make her feel like her body was about to split into a million pieces.
Just keep yourself out of the way. That’s the best option. That way no one gets disappointed.
She took a shaky breath and fumbled with the latch on her mailbox.
You don’t get disappointed when no one shows up for you. And no one else gets disappointed, when they see you.
The mailbox clattered open. Why was she even bothering? She wasn’t expecting anything. She’d cancelled all her subscriptions over the holidays, and it wasn’t like she got any mail that wasn’t someone trying to sell her something. No one wants to put up with you. You don’t deserve anyone.
She paused, her heart pounding her in ears. There was something in her mailbox. A piece of white card.
Probably a message from the landlord, she told herself, but something fluttered in her chest. Before she could stop herself, she reached up.
She was still wearing her gloves. Her fingers shouldn’t have tingled as she picked up the card, not unless she was in the early stages of frostbite. But they did. And when she saw what it was, her breath caught in her throat.
Jasper’s Christmas card.
A troupe of huskies grinned up at her from the front of the card, cheery Christmas-cracker hats perched on their heads. Merry Christmas! was scrawled in tinsel underneath them, and behind them, the mountains went on forever.
Her fingers tightened. She didn’t want to turn it over. No. She did, and she didn’t. Her hand trembled with tension.
Just
read it. What’s the worst that can happen?
Before she could answer her own question, she flipped the card over and all the breath left her body.
Dear Abigail,
I know you don’t like Christmas. But I’m hoping that by the time this arrives, I’ve managed to bring you around. And that I’m watching you read this, waiting for you to scowl at me, with that little smile that means you’re not really mad. Merry Christmas.
All my love,
Jasper
The rest of the world disappeared. Abigail read the postcard again, frantically, half-expecting the words to disappear if she looked at them too closely. But they didn’t. This wasn’t a dream. It was real.
And even though it wasn’t a dream, she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder. Jasper wasn’t there, of course. He wasn’t watching her read his card, like he’d wanted to be. Abigail’s chest twisted.
I really fucked that up, huh?
She groaned and banged her head against the rack of mailboxes. She knew she shouldn’t have read the card. It was just another reminder of how everything she touched went wrong.
The metal mailboxes were cool against her forehead. She closed her eyes. I’m hoping that by the time this arrives, I’ve managed to bring you around… And, the truth was, he almost had. All those perfect dates. The terrible egg-nog. Ice-skating under the stars. And the dogsledding, that magical adventure in the glittering midnight forest. Mulled wine and stew in front of a frozen lake.
She frowned. Perfect dates? They’d all turned out well, but… that egg-nog had been revolting. And she’d fallen asleep on the sled-ride. She couldn’t imagine that had been part of Jasper’s plan.
Just like discovering the roof about to fall in wasn’t part of yours.
Abigail’s chest went tight. She’d let that one discovery set off an avalanche in her mind, turning a setback into a disaster. As though— she winced.
Admit it. You’ve been waiting for something to go wrong the whole week, and the moment it did, you ran with it. It was almost a relief, wasn’t it? You saw the worst possible outcome, and you kicked it off. You set off that avalanche.
But it didn’t feel like relief, now. She didn’t feel like she’d escaped disaster, like she’d found a way to protect herself from being hurt. She felt empty.
Abigail looked down at the postcard in her hand. Jasper’s first few attempts to reach out to her hadn’t been flawless, but he hadn’t let that frighten him off. So even though her first attempt to reach back had gone so wrong, maybe… just maybe…
Her skin flushed hot and cold. She couldn’t do this. A lifetime of experience couldn’t be wrong, could it? It was pointless to hope that anyone wanted her at Christmas. She could reach out all she wanted, and be left to fall alone.
She gripped the postcard so hard it bent in her fingers. Biting her lip, Abigail carefully smoothed it out.
She had spent the last ten years making sure she didn’t have to reach out to anybody. She looked after herself, and didn’t need anyone else.
She survived, but that was all. And Jasper had shown her there was more to life than just surviving.
14
Jasper
The dragon had been flying all night, until its wings ached with the cold. As dawn rose pink and gold over the mountains, it turned back. Back towards its—
Home? No. It wasn’t home anymore.
The knowledge ripped through the dragon’s body. It was unmoored. Unanchored. Even the golden song of its hoard, deep in the mountains, didn’t steady it. What use was a hoard, with no mate to share it with?
Abigail.
Somewhere deep inside the dragon, Jasper opened his eyes. He felt as though he had slept for a thousand years, lost in the deep currents of his dragon’s agony. Slowly, piece by piece, he pulled himself to the surface.
How long was I under? He looked out through his dragon’s eyes. The sky was thick with heavy cloud, but night’s darkness was drawing away; in the distance, a smudge of pink-gold hinted at the sun’s arrival. Morning. But what morning? Christmas Eve, or…
Does it matter? The dragon shuddered again. It had its own opinions on the matter, Jasper knew. But as for himself… he wasn’t sure whether he cared one way or another. Before he’d met Abigail, he’d planned to stay human, but now…
He would have his family, either way. Live in the mountains as a dragon. See Cole grow up. Maybe that was best. What was the point of being human, now that Abigail had rejected him?
Abigail. It hurt to think her name. Hurt in a way that was almost pleasure, bright and icy-sharp. His dragon could sense her presence, even from this distance, and that hurt, too. She glittered like a star in the snow, all sharp smiles and pointy edges that he’d almost managed to make his way past. Almost. Not close enough.
The dragon’s wings drooped. It was weary, now, after its broken flight through the darkness. Head heavy, it descended into the thick clouds. Even if it had no home, it still needed to—
The trees came up faster than Jasper or the dragon had expected, black knives lancing up through the cloud. Branches cracked, trunks splintered, and the dragon roared in pain as it crashed to the ground.
Jasper didn’t know where he was. The world spun around him, broken trees and hard snow and low, suffocating cloud. The dragon dropped its head onto the icy ground. Plumes of white vapor streamed from its nostrils.
The dragon could feel the others’ voices searching for it. They must have felt his pain— Opal, Hank, even tiny Cole. Their minds were like jeweled suns, seeking his out.
It closed its mind to them. Deep inside it, Jasper did the same.
He was alone.
15
Abigail
Abigail gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Maybe it was pointless, and hopeless, and reckless and stupid and a terrible idea in so many ways— but she was going to do it. Even if she knocked on his door and he didn’t answer. Even if he sent her away.
She’d had all the chances in the world to change her mind. Putting chains on the tires of her crappy old car had been a mission and a half; at any point, she could have given up. But she hadn’t. Sweaty and greasy, she’d pulled out of the apartment garage with her stomach in knots.
She was going to find Jasper.
The streets were busy. That gave her more chances to back out. Every excruciating inch was another opportunity for her to decide this was all a mistake, that reaching out like this was no better than throwing herself off into thin air with no parachute. She rapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She didn’t want all these chances to change her mind.
Because you’re afraid you might take one of them.
That was why she had decided to go in person, rather than call on the phone. A phone call could be missed; face-to-face, there was no way to hide.
At last, an opening appeared in the traffic. She edged forward, heaving a sigh of relief. No escape now. She was stuck here until the great traffic-beast spat her out on the mountain road a few blocks away. And then she was going to find Jasper. He’d told her where he was staying; one of the private lodges, up one of the private roads. She’d never explored that far into the mountains, but now she had a reason to ignore the Restricted Access signs. And when she got there…
Christmas Eve. Abigail’s heart leapt into her throat. Jasper loved Christmas. And she was going to go up there and beg for him to take her back, empty-handed? What was she thinking?
A shop up ahead caught her eye. It wasn’t the sort of place she usually went, but today— today, it might just be perfect. Horns blaring around her, Abigail inched into a parking space and raced inside.
Half an hour later, she was on the mountain road. The town traffic had dragged at her patience, but out here, it was like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. There were only a few other cars on the road, and they soon disappeared ahead of her. It was like she was alone in the mountains; just her, her crotchety old car, and the parcel bu
rning a hole in her jacket pocket.
The roads had all been cleared since the last snow, but she was still glad of the chains as she drove deeper into the mountains. Her car barely had four-wheel drive, and— now that she came to think of it— she hadn’t actually told anyone she was heading out here…
She checked her phone. One bar of signal.
Stop it. You’re not backing out, remember?
She reminded herself of this again when she pulled to a stop in front of the gate that led onto the Heartwells’ private road. It was closed— but not locked, as she discovered when she trudged out to check it. She drove through, and then stopped to close the gate after her. Her skin prickled.
You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re visiting a, a friend. And it’s not like the gate was locked, or anything.
She looked around, wrapping her arms around herself. It was a gray, dull day. Heavy clouds smothered the peaks. Maybe if it was clear, she would have been able to see up to the Heartwell lodge, but instead she felt like she was standing under a dome of fog. She shivered.
I hope Jasper has a fire going, she thought, and immediately shook her head. If he even wants to see you.
“Well, I’m not going to find out by standing around here,” she said out loud, and turned to trudge back to the car.
A noise stopped her.
Abigail froze, ears pricked. What was that? It wasn’t the creak of ice-bound trees, or the crash of snow falling from an overhand or branch. It had sounded almost like some sort of animal. Like a groan.
Are there bears around here? was her first thought, and then: Should I run?
But she didn’t move. Whatever that noise was… it wasn’t like anything she had ever heard, but she wasn’t afraid. And she wanted to know what had made it.