Just Home for the Holidays - Deborah Cooke Page 0,43

to face him, refusing to soften that he looked so wary. “We could be friends, with benefits or without. We could ride this out and see where it goes. There’s nothing saying we’d part badly in the end, or that one of us would want more than the other.”

“Everything says that. You are how you are and I am how I am. We’re different.”

“You’re scared to live your life,” Chloe retorted. “You’re refusing to acknowledge the future and you’re right—that makes us different. I’ve been planning too much and am learning, thanks to you, to go with the flow. This could be about both of us finding a better balance.”

“No.” He shook his head, resolute.

Chloe exhaled. She surveyed the apartment. “When you decide to take a chance on something that matters, Hunter, give me a call. Maybe I’ll still be interested. Maybe it’ll be too late.” She put on her shoes and reached for her jacket and purse.

“I don’t need anyone, Chloe,” he said, his tone harsh. “Don’t volunteer.”

“Everyone needs someone, Hunter,” she replied, her tone just as tough. “Don’t think you’re that special.”

Hunter opened his mouth to argue but Chloe just walked to the door.

“Don’t worry about calling me a cab,” she said. “I’ll get my own.”

And then she left Hunter there, fuming as she marched down the hall to the elevator. The only possible upside was that she’d given him something to think about.

Chloe wasn’t going to hold her breath on that.

The weird thing was that Hunter felt better.

It made no sense. He’d told Chloe the secret he didn’t share with anyone, and she hadn’t concluded that he didn’t deserve to live.

Instead, she’d offered him a hug.

She didn’t need to know how much he’d wanted to accept.

And she’d only told him off when he’d refused to take a chance on her, and on them. He told himself it was because he knew his limitations, but what if she was right?

What if he was chicken-shit?

Hunter had to think about that.

He made sure to be engrossed the next day at F5F at the rock climbing wall when Cassie and Reid’s brunch began. He also made sure he didn’t have time to attend. He halfway expected Chloe to come and chew him out about their images on the shipping board, but he only caught a single glimpse of her. She was cuddling Martin and laughing at something Cassie said, as if she’d forgotten all about Hunter.

He wondered whether he’d ever forget about her.

He didn’t have his nightmare Sunday night, which was the strangest thing. It was purely a coincidence that he kept checking Chloe’s schedule of events, and had nothing to do with anything that he read her serial emails again. It certainly didn’t matter that he couldn’t bring himself to delete them, or that he barely responded to the cute new member who’d complimented him on his dancing the night before.

On Monday, he went back to the Bryant Park holiday market and found a cute stuffie for Evie for Christmas. He remembered that Tyler’s sister, Katelyn, had a stall, and bought a silver bracelet for Char from her. It was exactly Char’s style, bold and wide with a few big pieces of amethyst. He got some locally roasted coffee for Char’s husband and a mug with a cartoon on it. He found himself whistling as he waited in line for their wrapping service and smiled when someone gave him a candy cane.

He bought a ticket to the Rockettes show that night, even though it wouldn’t be anywhere near Chloe’s seats. The only singles left were practically in the rafters and partly obstructed views. He couldn’t even spot Chloe, but she was right—he enjoyed the show. It was easy to imagine Cassie in the line of dancers, which she’d done one year before F5F. All those high-kicking legs should have gotten him thinking, but instead, he was thinking about Chloe in those stockings.

He pulled out his phone to call her a dozen times, but put it away each time.

He didn’t have his nightmare Monday night either.

He wondered if it actually was possible to banish the past. He hadn’t absolved himself from blame, but Hunter couldn’t help feeling that he’d surrendered a weight that he’d gotten used to carrying. He felt lighter. He felt a little more festive. He found himself humming along with the carols playing in the F5F lobby and not changing the words of Jingle Bells to “Santa smells ninety miles away”.

He still had to get through Christmas, though,