Neither had he promised anything now, Seb realized. Not that it mattered because this time Seb was the one unable to commit to any sort of future. Perhaps that wouldn’t bother Matty. But he knew himself, and he couldn’t handle that again. His heart was already involved, and the only way to save himself was to be the one to pull the brakes first this time.
From downstairs Matty called up, “Almost done. Don’t get started without me.”
If there had been a way to leap from the window and not guarantee any broken bones, Seb would have done so. Instead, he shoved the toiletry case back into his duffel and headed downstairs to nearly mow Matty down at the bottom step. The smile melted off Matty’s face as he spotted the duffel clutched like a lifeline in Seb’s fingers.
“Baz? What’s wrong?”
He wouldn’t meet Matty’s eyes, he couldn’t. Staring toward the hallway and the door beyond, he pointed toward it with the bag. “I… I’m really sorry. But I can’t stay.”
“What? Why?” Matty sounded short-breathed from shock. “Is something wrong at home?”
“No. I… I just. I’m sorry, but this can’t work. I made a mistake. It’s not a good idea. I mean, I’ll be leaving again soon and—”
Grabbing his arm Matty said, “Baz… I don’t understand—”
Seb grounded himself and stiffened his back. “Matty, I’m sorry for leading you on. I wasn’t thinking. I mean, I thought I could do this. Casual. Like our first time around, you know. But the truth is, I can’t go through that again.”
Color rose up Matty’s neck, shading his face. He dropped Seb’s arm and wrapped his own tightly around himself. Voice rough, he stammered, “But… we’re not teenagers anymore. Why would you automatically assume it was the same?”
Of all the responses that was not what Seb expected, and he didn’t know what to do about it. The job deadline was like a blinking beacon flashing behind his eyes. He needed to think, needed space.
Matty tilted his head. “Hey… what do you mean ‘go through that again’?”
It wasn’t surprising that Matty didn’t know how devastated he’d been ten years ago—Seb had never said anything. He’d been too embarrassed at having been the only one to feel so much. Not that shame made up for the pain he’d felt.
“I really am sorry. Can we… let’s talk tomorrow. I just need a little time. Please. Okay?”
There wasn’t much Matty could do but acquiesce as Seb gave him a weak reassuring smile and let himself out. He had no idea what he’d say the next day when Matty would undoubtedly expect an explanation. What was there to say? He hadn’t said the words ten years ago, and the fact that this was happening again made him feel as pathetic as a fly stuck between windowpanes. Except he’d flown in knowing full well the likelihood that he’d be sucked into the same trap. One that was of his own goddamn making.
Chapter Eight
Matthew
FOR several moments after the low thud of the door shutting, Matt stayed frozen in the same spot. When he did manage to move, he twitched in place, fingers mussing his hair and scratching along his scruffy chin. He opened his mouth to say something and then remembered he was alone.
Without thought he walked to the door and opened it. Not surprisingly Baz’s car—really Cheryl’s Volvo—was no longer in the circular driveway. He stepped onto the porch, eyeing the quiet street. The Starr house looked down on neighbors dotting the landscape on all sides. He could see Christmas lights on many of the houses and the Christmas tree in the living room of the neighbors across the street, along with the soft blue flicker of their television.
He sat on the rocker in the corner of the porch and concentrated on matching his breathing to the slow back-and-forth of the chair. Despite these attempts his mind raced—like back in high school on days he’d left his pills at home. Over the years, he’d not felt the effects of his ADHD as severely as when he was younger. But that distinction seemed moot because right now he couldn’t think. His brain was running to catch up to something so far ahead as to be in a different place altogether. He called into the darkness, “What the hell just happened?”
His outburst boomeranged around the wide porch. A soft hoot of a hidden owl was his reply.
Why the one-eighty? They’d had a great dinner and they’d been getting cozy and that kissing didn’t feel like let’s step on the brakes. No way. Matt had been worrying about whether Baz was still feeling odd about Matt’s relationship with Steph and his mom but he’d thanked him for being good with the girls. Why say that if it was some sort of barrier to their being together? His head spun because everything came back to what the hell.
A car passed and Matt’s heart leaped, thinking maybe Baz was returning before realizing that it didn’t slow down. He shuddered and glanced down in confusion at his coatless state. The winter bite sliced like a knife against his cheeks. His fingertips tingled where they gripped the wood of the seat like claws. Staring expectantly at the dark road for several more moments, Matt realized there was no point to sitting in the cold and he went back inside. The room was the same. Throw pillows mussed, one on the floor where they’d kicked it over in their eagerness to get closer. Two empty beer bottles on the square coffee table. On the TV, the Netflix menu flickered. He’d been about to clear the beers and turn off the television when he’d called up to Baz. Nothing could have readied him for Baz’s pressing the pause button like he had.
Except, despite the minimal amount of words exchanged—one thing was coming through clear. Baz cared for him. Likely as much as he cared for Baz. Yet he was acting as if it was one-sided. Did Baz not see how deep Matt’s feelings toward him ran? How different it was from when they were kids?
Sure, Matt knew Baz was leaving soon. It’s not like that was news. Matt was well aware that Baz lived in New York City. It had never even been a thought that the situation was changing immediately regarding that. He knew Baz loved his job. Matt was not a clingy person, never had been. But this thing between them felt different and he had thought that perhaps in time…. He’d want to be family with me. He clicked off the TV and then walked mechanically into the kitchen to drain the bottles and drop them into the recycle bin.
His phone buzzed in his back pocket and Matt’s heart thumped, hoping it was Baz saying he was coming back, that he’d made a mistake leaving.
“Before you ask… I don’t know.” Stephanie’s voice was subdued, like she was trying not to be overheard.
“He’s back?” Even as the words left Matt’s lips he knew they were dumb. Where else would Baz go? Although given the weird way he’d left, it wouldn’t have shocked him to learn he’d driven home to New York City. He was relieved to hear that he hadn’t run out on everyone.
“Yeah, stormed in a few minutes ago. Tossed his jacket on the sofa instead of hanging it up. I knew right away something was up but he put his hand out in that way that stops everyone cold. Even Mom and Dad knew to stay away at that gesture.”
“Steph… I didn’t do anything, I swear.” He scooted his hand through his hair and dropped down upon a counter stool only to immediately rise again to pace the kitchen in a circular motion. “We had dinner. Then we were going to watch a movie. We, um, kissed, and then he called a time-out. Said… well reminded me he was leaving after the holidays.”
She was quiet a moment and then said, “Hmm.”
“Did he say anything? I thought things were good. But I know that he was upset.”
“He said nothing to me. Slow down. What exactly did he say to you?”
“That he’d be leaving soon. Something about it not working because he was leaving back for New York soon. But we all know that. It’s just that I thought…. It’s not the same as when we were kids. Does he think that?” Matt adjusted a crooked drawing of Rowen’s on his refrigerator.
“Matt, I really don’t know.”
“He asked for time. I suppose calling him tonight would serve no purpose?”
“I wouldn’t. I’ll try talking to him tomorrow and fi
nd out. Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, I know I tossed you two together. But that didn’t mean it was a good idea.”
Irritation flared because now it seemed the entire Chesnut clan decided to kill this before it really took off. “First of all, I wasn’t tossed into anything. I’m not a goddamn salad. And second, we’re not horny teenagers anymore. We’re adults. And I know for sure it wasn’t only—” He sucked in air to calm himself because the last thing he wanted was to fight with his best friend on top of whatever happened with her brother. “Look, Baz is free to do anything he wants. Or not do anything in this case.” He couldn’t help the thought that if it were anyone else, he’d write it off as mixed signals and be done with it. “But he’s your brother and I want it to be okay with us.”
The risk clarified like someone wiping the fog off a window. If Baz disliked him for some reason he hadn’t yet expressed—the promised continued conversation—then Matt wouldn’t be able to be around the Chesnuts for the rest of the holiday season. Cold shot up his spine as he imagined Christmas alone in this big house. He’d gotten so used to Cheryl’s constant welcome, the girls’ giggles and tickle matches and squeezing his hand as they listened to the weekly carolers. Steph’s husky laugh and teasing manner.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Steph reassured, but her voice was measured, careful, and Matt felt the tension tighten in a band around his gut.
Sebastian
SEB woke to the squawk of blackbirds outside his window and sat up with a start. He’d been dreaming of sitting on a plane, the one that was going to take him to London to start his new job, his new life. But it wouldn’t take off. There was announcement after announcement. Ice on the wings and too many birds and stars falling from the sky. He recalled something about a flat tire and remembered thinking, planes get flats?
He listened but didn’t hear any signs of life in the house. His heart thudded until he remembered the girls were on their sleepover. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he shuffled to the bathroom and washed efficiently before making his way downstairs. The aroma of coffee wafted from a waiting pot. Next to it was a note.
Seb—
Thought we’d let you sleep. I’m picking up the girls and dropping them off with Matt. He’s taking them for the day—said Jackson could help as well. So you are free! Hope you enjoy your quiet day.
—Steph
Setting the note aside he poured himself coffee, adding cream and two precise scoops of sugar, and reveled in a lingering sip before reading it again. Who or what was Jackson?
The bottom line was that he had the day to himself. It was stunning how he missed the girls and their tenacious questions, melodic laughter, and inadvertently funny comments. Seb had always prized his alone time. That was why Steph had done this, made sure he could regroup. She didn’t know what was wrong, although by now she must have spoken to Matty. He wondered what Matty told her. He knew he owed him a full explanation. But he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t ready to discuss the job with his family, not until he worked it out in his mind. And telling Matty was the same as telling everyone.
Moving room to room, he straightened out the house, making beds and disposing of clothes left lying about into their appropriate hampers. Sighing, he snatched the dirty wineglasses from the countertop and neatened up a stack of bills in the kitchen office nook. After a quick shower, he ran the dishwasher and stood staring at a stunning bowl on a high shelf in the kitchen. He’d spotted it before but hadn’t given it enough attention. Now all he could see was Matty’s workmanship, the blended glazes, hues that burst like light through a stained glass window.
Deciding he was done with his alone time, he figured he’d go visit his mother and Stephanie in the shop. He recalled how Matty said he’d sometimes bring his mother and sister lunch from Tate’s and thought he’d do the same. After a frantic search, he found his leather jacket folded on the arm of the sofa. He snorted to himself because if he was attempting to escape Matty, then going to the shop was a masochistic move.
FRANKLIN Tate smiled broadly as he packed the chicken salad sandwiches and small containers of homemade potato salad. “Anything to drink? Wednesday special is hot apple cider.”
Shaking his head, Seb said, “Nope, just the sandwiches. Thanks.”
After heading up the street, Seb stopped at Beanies where Gertie was working the counter alone. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail, with stray wiry strands floating around her face. When her eyes fell upon the Tate’s bag, she smiled and said, “Usual for the ladies?”
Seb returned the smile. “Sure.” Well that was easy, as he’d been wondering what they’d prefer. Beanie’s offered so many choices and he knew Stephanie, at least, liked more than one.
At the last moment, he tacked on a cappuccino for himself and made his way out of the café and back to his car. The wind burned his cheeks, sky too gray for snow, with a silver edge surrounding the flat, low clouds. He drove slowly so as to not knock over the coffee cups in their cardboard tray. Pulling into the small alley to the side of the shop, he acknowledged the simple pleasure of bringing his mother and sister a warm drink and fresh sandwich in the middle of their busy day.
Matthew
IN his Jeep with Jackson and the girls, Matt drove everyone back to his house. Jackson bubbled beside Matt about having had the honor to assist during the past semester’s RISD Drawing Marathon, an intense course where students spent twelve-hour days drawing, painting, and sculpting in various mediums and styles, culminating with their individual series projects. Matt had taken the class as an undergrad and had found the experience transcendental in the way he learned to evaluate space and appreciate the breadth of storytelling through art.
“How’s Rina? The same?” Matt recalled the enthusiastic, articulate professor, who bounded around the students with energy siphoned from the art as if the motion in the drawings was infused into her veins.
“Yep,” Jackson said, jumping out of the car and helping Matt wrangle the girls inside. “She treats each student like they are the only human in the universe. That tunneled attention. Given the million things going on at once, it’s special, you know.”
“I remember,” Matt said, a fond smile spreading his lips.
Heading into the living room, Chance broke open the Christmas-themed coloring book, a collection of vintage holiday images, and fresh box of kid-friendly Crayola coloring pencils Jackson had brought. Jackson had three younger siblings and it showed. He’d insinuated himself in the Chesnut family as if he’d been around much more than the few times a year they saw him.
Jackson had also contributed his own painting to the charity auction and helped Matt get his large sculpture completed in time each year. Jackson had met Cameron for the first time the previous year and Matt recognized sparks when he saw them, even though they were such different temperaments as to be almost comical. This turn of thought reminded him of Baz and he frowned.
Since arriving in town two days earlier, the usually open art student seemed reticent to share much, and Matt didn’t know if he was staying with Cam as a friend or something more. But unlike Steph, pushing wasn’t Matt’s style. Jackson would talk about what was going on in his own time if he wished.
After serving lunch, he herded everyone back into the Jeep to visit Cheryl and Stephanie at work. Pulling up in front of the shop, Matt got out and unlocked the girls’ seat belts. He and Jackson each took one small hand into their own and proceeded into the store. Chance and Rowen pulled away and ran ahead of them, causing Matt and Jackson to meet each other’s eyes with a shared fond smile.
“Not so fast,” he called after them, but it was hopeless.
Stephanie spotted them first and ran from around the counter to squash her daughters in a three-way hug. “Hey guys, what a neat surprise.”
Rowen held up the coloring book. “Jack gave us,” she said.
Stephanie appreciated the vintage art as Matt knew she would. Her expression was glowing with admiration. “It’s fantastic. You always
find the coolest things. Thank you, Jackson.”
“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.”
“You too.” Steph met Matt’s eyes and gestured toward the back room. “Seb’s in the office.”
Flinching, Matt nodded. Then a stubborn twinge made him square his jaw. So what? I belong as much as he does. He asked instead, “Is Ma here?”
“With Seb.” She looked down at Chance and Rowen. “Why don’t you two go say hi to Grandma and Uncle Seb and then you can color in the office for a while.”
Once the girls scrambled away, Stephanie took care of a customer before returning her attention to Matt and Jackson. “You okay?” she asked Matt.
Lying to her was not something Matt did, but he didn’t want to get into it in front of Jackson. He shrugged and met her eyes. It was enough. She switched her attention to Jackson.
“How’s Cam?”
Jackson blushed and said, “He’s good. Helping folks around town with projects they want done before the holidays. He said—”
Before Jackson could finish whatever message Cameron had wanted him to relay, Baz walked out of the back room, eyes landing first on Stephanie and then Jackson with a curious look. The one place his gaze never landed was on Matt, and the obvious avoidance was like being gut punched.
Chapter Nine
SENSING movement, Matt caught Jackson looking Baz over. He had to be intrigued by the proverbial prodigal son who he’d heard about from Steph and Cheryl. Baz did not disappoint. He stood rigid, dark hair spiked with product and stubble darkening his sharp jaw like a shadow. Wearing a soft dove-gray V-neck sweater with a white T-shirt underneath, he blinked once before shoving his hands hard in his black jeans. The strain of so pointedly avoiding looking at Matt made a vein on his neck twitch.
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