by Aria Ford
I’m still good-looking, I guess. But would that be enough?
Even as I thought it, I wanted to kick myself. I shouldn’t care if I looked like the back end of a freight truck. I was not—absolutely not—going to get involved with Amelia Carlyle again. Not for anyone.
“Besides,” I said, “she might not even be there.” Why should she be? She is Brett’s little sister, after all. He’s married, now, with a lovely wife and two small kids. Maybe she’s somewhere else for Christmas. Maybe married too.
That thought made my throat tight and I felt angry about it. The level of the anger surprised me. If I really had moved on, I should have been glad to think she had too, but apparently, I hadn’t.
Come on, Carson! Decide, for pity’s sakes!
I had to send Brett a reply now. I couldn’t spoil his plans by keeping him waiting. I drew in a deep breath and raised my fingers to type. I sent two simple words. Yes. Thanks.
When that was done I leaned back with a big, shaky sigh and looked up at the ceiling. That was surprisingly difficult. Well, I’d done it now. For better or worse, I was going to tie up the loose ends of that part of my past.
I stood and walked through to the kitchen. At that moment, my phone rang. I ran through and grabbed it, tripping over the couch as I did so.
“Carson?”
“Ah…Brett!” I breathed hard through my nose. Falling over had hurt. My shin hit the edge of the table, and it was throbbing badly.
“Hey! Bro! What’s up? You sound rough.”
“Um…nothing, Brett. Just fine! What’s up?” I said through gritted teeth, hissing out as my shin throbbed under my fingers.
“Well, if you say so,” he said, sounding hesitant to believe me. “I just got your message. That’s great! The twenty-first work okay for you, man?”
“Uh…that’s tomorrow, right?” I asked. My heart did a flip.
“Yes.” Brett paused. “Are you sure that everything’s okay, Carson?” He sounded concerned.
“I’m fine!” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to lose my temper with him. That’s one of the problems with me—I have a short fuse at the moment. My doctor tells me it’s from the trauma. I try not to believe him.
“Whoa, Carson. I’m sorry, man.”
I sighed. “It’s not your fault, Brett. I’m just stressing right now. I’m really sorry.”
“No problem, bro. Just glad you’ll make it.”
“Sure, I will.”
“Good,” he said. “I should go—gotta get the kids from school.”
“Okay,” I said, relieved I would be able to express the agony of my sore shin when he went off. And maybe put some baked beans on it or something. “Looking forward to seeing you!”
“Great! Amelia will be so pleased to see you. Bye!”
“Brett…wait!” I said. But he had already hung up. I leaned back on the sofa.
Maybe he meant to say Reese. But no, Brett wasn’t the kind of guy to get mixed up between his sister and his wife, and he’d said it. Amelia. I closed my eyes.
Amelia is going to be there? Alone? Single?
“Brett,” I said aloud, not sure whether it was the sore shin or something else that made me feel so completely defeated. “What are you doing to me?”
I absolutely did not need to see Amelia, but now it seemed I was going to. On Christmas Day. Was this a Christmas miracle or disaster waiting to happen?
Funnily enough, as I limped through to the kitchen and held a pack of cold peas on my shin-bone, I couldn’t help but feel excited about seeing her again.
I wonder how she’s changed?
I recalled her as a beautiful, lively seventeen-year-old. At twenty-seven, what would she be like? I formed a picture in my head, or tried to, from memory and imagination. She was tall, fair-haired with those soft blue eyes and a smile that could melt hearts at fifty paces. I had loved her at first sight. I still had feelings for her.
Amelia Carlyle. Beautiful, funny and irresistible.
I chuckled. “Carson, be a good boy.”
I couldn’t believe what my imagination was doing to my body. It wasn’t like I’d been celibate in the last ten years, but just the thought of the girl I had loved sent shivers through me, making my dick stiff. I bit my lip, shaking my head.
Grunting, I put my foot on the tiles again. It had been on the kitchen chair, so I could reach the shin more easily, and I limped upstairs. Packing had become second nature during my years in the military, but a visit to an old buddy is different to moving camp. I supposed I had to get presents too.
The next morning, at five am I left my apartment in Boulder, Colorado, and started driving. It would take me twelve hours to get to LA, but at such short notice, driving was much better than flying. I guessed I would arrive by suppertime.
I enjoy driving. With my new secondhand BMW convertible, it’s even more fun. Smooth and relaxing. On the long, winding roads, my brain took wing. My thoughts were of Amelia.
“And I’m coming ho-ome…” I sang along with the radio. When I caught myself doing it, I blinked, surprised.
Hell, Carson! You’re excited, man.
It surprised me. I knew why I was singing and smiling. It was because I was going to see her—Amelia. I had never realized how much I loved her. How much breaking up with her had actually cut me up. But apparently it had—I never sing, and smiling doesn’t come too easily either. I wished Pete were here.
My army buddy, shot in Iraq, I often talk to Pete when I face something that confuses me. He was always wise and laid-back about everything.
“Pete, man? Am I being dumb?” I asked.
I sighed. If Pete were here, he’d be laughing at me. I looked out of the window, feeling my throat tighten with sadness. I blinked at a billboard by the roadside. It read: “Follow your instincts”.
It was an ad for perfume or something; I don’t even know. But it could have been Pete’s reply. It sounded like something he’d say. Don’t worry about it, man. Just trust your instincts. That would have been his advice.
“Okay, Pete,” I said, sighing. “I’ll do my best. Sounds like a plan.”
I put my foot on the gas, wincing as the sore spot in my right leg stretched out, and sped ahead.
After twelve hours of driving, I reached the outskirts of LA. It was dark, the lights blinking from the tall buildings in the distance.
“Okay, Carson. Be cool.”
I pulled over and switched on the GPS and let it guide me to Brett’s house in the suburbs. After half an hour of traffic and remembering why I don’t like large cities, I found it.
I realized, with some surprise, that I was trembling when I stopped at the gate. I drew in long, even breaths through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to steady myself.
Hell, Carson! You’d think you were running unarmed into heavy fire here, not visiting a friend for Christmas. Calm down, for pity’s sakes!
I got my breathing under control, got out of the car and headed through the gate. I rang the bell.
“Hello?” A voice called through the wood. My heart stopped and the door opened.
I was looking straight into the face of Amelia.
CHAPTER THREE
Amelia
I looked into his eyes. My heart stopped.
He was ten years older than the last time I saw him, with his hair touched with the barest threads of white, his eyes were gentler, perhaps, the wrinkle at his mouth deeper. He was wearing a cream-colored t-shirt with a casual jacket and navy jeans, his tall form leaned on the door-frame.
“Hello.”
I tensed as his voice washed through me, making my heart ache. It was Carson. He hadn’t changed a bit and I would have known him anywhere. He even smelled the same. He was still the strong, handsome man with the high cheekbones and deep brown eyes I recalled from my teenage years. He still smelled of musk and cologne. And he still made my heart do peculiar things.
Breathe, Amelia.
I breathed. It didn’t help very much. I l
ooked into his eyes, and he looked into mine. I saw his pupils widen and then narrow, the way that they had all those years ago when he saw me, right before he kissed me and lifted me up in those strong arms…
“Hello,” I whispered softly.
He smiled. His lips lifted at the corners, in that slow, shy way I recalled from the day I met him. The way that was surprisingly childlike and so, so sexy at once. My heart clenched tight. This was absolutely not how I’d imagined our first meeting. I had thought we would be angry with each other; aloof, hesitant. The last thing I’d expected was for everything to be just as it had been.
“Are you…”
“How long…”
We spoke at the same time, a habit that spanned a decade. I felt my throat close up, and I smiled, my eyes damp. How long had it been? Yet nothing had changed. The years had washed away the wounds he had made on me, and it seemed they had washed away his intention in saying them.
If he wanted me out of his life, it seemed as if he hadn’t stuck to that plan—his eyes, the small smile, they said the opposite. My body was suddenly on fire and my throat closed up with feeling.
“I heard you’d be here,” I said.
“I was…” he began.
“Mel?” Another voice interrupted it.
I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth as Brett’s voice called out. Whatever Carson had been about to say remained silent as Carson turned in the doorway to face my brother. I sighed.
“Yes, bro?” I asked.
“Who is it? Is it…Oh!”
Brett appeared in the hallway beside me, a tall, fair-haired bundle of enthusiasm and grins. He stared a moment then reached out a hand to Carson, shaking his hand as his other arm wrapped his shoulder.
“Carson! Bro!” He grinned up at him. It was as if nothing had changed, I thought, looking at the two of them; as if they were still in college together and we were all young and invincible with the world before us. Brett was laughing, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Then he turned to me. “Sorry, Mel. I’m being rude again. Carson, look! It’s my sister.”
I closed my eyes. If I had been alone with Brett, I probably would have hit him. At least I would have wanted to, but I didn’t. He surely remembered how much Carson meant to me? How could he be so callous? I opened them again, becoming aware of the silence around me.
“Yes. We said that when I opened the door,” I said carefully. “Hi, Carson.”
“Amelia.”
His voice made my throat tight as I held out my hand, taking his. His eyes met mine. He smiled. He looked, I was surprised to note, nervous. The little grin he gave me seemed to ask a question. Seek approval.
Come on, Amelia. Stop being imaginative. It’s probably tiredness. He’s been driving today.
“Kids?” Brett called to the kitchen. “Look who’s here!”
I heard trainers clattering on the tiles behind me and was relieved to feel Cayley’s hand on my leg. At ten years old, just leaving childhood for the uncertain waters of tweenage, she was a gold-locked angel who stole my heart every time I looked into her eyes. She peered up at Carson.
“Who is it, Daddy?”
Brett chuckled. “Who is it? It’s uncle Carson!”
I laughed as Cayley giggled. “Oh! That’s who! Hello, Uncle Carson.”
We all laughed and I let out a deep sigh. Kids have a wonderful way of easing the tension. And Cayley and Josh are especially good at it. I heard Josh run up to join us, all eager.
“Hello?” he said, pausing in the doorway beside his sister, looking up at the newcomer.
Carson surprised me. He bent down so he was hunkering down to Josh’s level, and shook his hand.
“Hi, Josh. Hi, Cayley,” he said to the kids. “Nice to meet you again.”
Cayley blushed and wrung her hands in her nylon skirt. Josh looked fascinated with him.
“We met you a year ago, uncle Carson,” Cayley reminded him. She still seemed shy.
“So you did,” Carson observed. I was surprised. If Brett had invited Carson here, then he hadn’t told me after he returned from the army.
Looking from Carson to the kids and back again, a small frown on his brow, though he still grinned amiably, Brett chuckled. “Well, come on, guys. Carson! You must be finished after such a long ride here. You want to lie down for a bit? I’ve put you in Josh and Cayley’s room. Amelia was already in the spare room.”
“Oh. Great,” Carson said. He sounded tired in ways he didn’t look. I instantly felt worried for him. I looked at Brett, frowning. He should have a chance to rest: Ideally, he should lie down now. I had almost forgotten what Brett had told me earlier, that he lived in Colorado now. He must have been driving for the whole day. It didn’t show in his appearance, but it was audible in his voice.
“We’ll wait for a while before dinner if you like, Carson?” he said, catching my look.
“No, no. I’ll come down. I’m starved, actually.” He chuckled weakly. I smiled at him.
When he and Brett had gone upstairs, I stood in the hallway. Closed my eyes. I felt awkward and confused, strangely shy.
What am I going to do with myself?
His arrival had shown me something: I couldn’t help it—I still had feelings for him. I had really tried to pretend otherwise. I had, when I arrived at Brett’s home a few hours ago, almost convinced myself that I was indifferent. That seeing him wouldn’t affect me, that I didn’t care. But apparently, I still did. My heart thumped and my face glowed.
He looked like he still has feelings for me.
I shook my head, mad at myself. Stop it, Amelia! I ran my fingers through my loose curls impatiently, fighting them back into a messy bun, and followed the retreating footsteps of Josh and Cayley back to the kitchen.
“Amelia?” Reese, my tall, sophisticated sister-in-law, raised a manicured brow at me from behind the counter. “Was that Carson?”
“Yes,” I replied neutrally.
“Oh! Brett took him up?” she continued, bending back over her work-surface where she was preparing shrimp for the salad.
“He did.”
Reese eyed me curiously as I sank into a chair at the kitchen table, closing my eyes a moment. She seemed to sense I didn’t want to talk, because she ignored me with her own brand of peaceable ease, turning back to her task. I should have offered to help, but my heart was racing and I was sure I wouldn’t concentrate enough not to mess them up.
“Mummy!” Cayley broke the silence, steps loud on the kitchen floor as she walked in. “Can Barbie come for a bath with me?”
Reese laughed and turned imploring eyes at me. “Can you help?” I nodded.
“Come on, Cayley!” I said cheerfully. “Let’s go bath!”
“Hurray!”
We charged up the stairs and straight into Carson, coming down. I blushed. Cayley, oblivious of my embarrassment, surged on ahead. I was left alone, facing Carson silently.
“Sorry,” I murmured, flushing scarlet.
“No,” he said. His voice sounded thick, as if he was speaking through treacle. “I should’ve looked.”
I felt my cheeks flaming. I looked at my hands. We were both standing on the steps, him just a little higher than me. He looked into my eyes. I stared back.
“Carson?” Reese called through the door of the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”
He blinked. “Uh…yeah. Coming. Thanks, Reese.”
He stayed where he was and so did I. The air was thick with unspoken words. After an age, which must really have been a minute or two, he cleared his throat.
“Um, Amelia. I…”
“Auntie!” Cayley insisted, clamoring from the top step. “Aren’t you going to come upstairs?”
I smiled apologetically at Carson. He chuckled. I expected him to say something deprecating, but he said nothing, and his eyes watched me as I went up to join the child the look in them held a deep tenderness that surprised me. I swallowed hard.
“Auntie…why were you waiting so lon
g? I want to have my bath now, so we can go and have dinner and then go to bed! Will you tell us a story?”
I sighed. “Yes, Cayley. I’ll come up later.”
“Whee!”
Twenty minutes later, bubbles, rose-scented fragrance and splashes of water all over the upstairs bathroom, I was leading Cayley back down the stairs again to dinner. We were eating later, because of Carson’s late arrival, and at least if the kids were washed and ready for bed they wouldn’t have to stay up too late.
“Mel?” My brother called to me as I came downstairs. “You want to eat now?”
“Yes, please,” I agreed. I walked through to join everyone at the table, and swallowed hard. There was only one seat open, and that was the one beside Carson.
This is absolutely not fair, I thought crossly. It was as if my brother was trying to make me talk to him. I shot him an acid look across the table, but he wasn’t looking in my direction. He was intent on something he held in one hand, a tube of glue in the other.
“…okay, Josh,” he was saying to his son, as they bent over a plastic truck together, “let’s see if it goes now.”
He bent over and put it on the floor and his small son jumped down from his seat and pushed it around, making enthusiastic engine noises. Brett joined in, getting up from his seat and hunkering down with his son. Together they tested his repair-skills. Watching them together brought a pang of tender emotion to my heart. I looked up and saw Carson watching them too. His eyes were soft and he looked as if he felt the same way I did. I was surprised.
“Okay,” Reese said from opposite me, breaking my peaceful thoughts. “Are we going to start eating?”
“Yes!” Cayley said with enthusiasm. We all laughed.
As dinner was served, Brett and his wife chatted to each other, while I helped Cayley get some salad and Carson sat quietly at the end of the table. He seemed to be watching us, but he had a closed, distant expression on his face that told me he was preoccupied with whatever it was he was thinking of. He had always been like that—aloof and brooding.
I never figured out if it was because he was shy or because he’s snobbish.
Now that I thought about it, I still didn’t know. With him it could be either. The Grant family were a proud lot, with a long history of involvement in the military and much more wealth than they let on. Carson had always had that sheen to him that spoke of a wealthy family, and I had always just assumed that his silence was because he believed everyone else in the room was inferior.
