Chapter 24
Gavin
The sun was starting to set, but I didn’t bother to flip on any lights.
The glow from the Christmas tree lights and my laptop was enough.
The house was quiet except for the low hum of the heater, and I had the blanket I’d basically claimed as mine wrapped around me.
I was two chapters in for the day, and with a newly poured coffee next to me, I was ready to bust out some more.
Zach and Nico were dancing around admitting the full extent of their feelings for each other. Both were scared to admit they were falling for the other, but deep down, the two of them knew what they shared was the real thing.
My fingers continued flying over the keys, the push and pull between the characters playing out clear as day, when headlights lit up the front windows before turning off. A minute later, the door opened.
“Hey,” Cole said, kicking off his boots. His voice was lower than usual. Maybe it’d been a rough day at the B&B.
“Hey,” I replied, my eyes still on the screen until I finished the sentence I was writing.
When I looked at him, I saw a slight frown marring his face. He paused by the arm of the couch and glanced at the laptop. “You still working?”
“Yeah.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Sorry I didn’t start dinner. This scene was speaking to me.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to cook for me. I’m able to feed myself.”
“Good.” I chuckled. “Because some days are like this. If I stop, the words might disappear, and I’ll be stuck again.”
His gaze didn’t leave my face. “We wouldn’t want that.”
“Right?” My finger ran along the trackpad, and I scrolled through what I had written. “I think I broke three thousand words again today.”
“What’s the scene?”
I liked that he showed an interest in my work. “The main characters were finally truthful about how deep their feelings for each other ran.”
“Truthful, huh?” The way he said those two words had me glancing up. He looked casual with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders relaxed, but it was impossible to miss the tightness of his jaw and the way his eyes narrowed a bit. “You know, Allie and Ryan came by the inn today.”
“Did Allie go on and on about her design plans? If she’s interrupting your work, I can chat with her,” I said, wondering if that was why he was on edge. I knew he’d been worried about falling behind.
“She wanted to look around, but it wasn’t a big deal.”
I smiled. “I know she can talk a lot when she’s excited.”
“She was definitely excited. She told me something else when Ryan left the room to take a call.”
I closed my laptop. “What’d she say?”
“She called me your muse.” He didn’t look away, and my stomach twisted. “That you’re writing our story. Nights at my place. Dinners together. The Christmas tree.” He pointed at it. “She claims I gave you your words back.”
I took a deep breath. If he hadn’t been acting odd from the moment he’d stepped inside, I might have thought he wasn’t bothered by that revelation based on the casual way he threw it out there.
But suddenly, it felt as though everything he’d said or done in the last few minutes had been building up to this moment.
“She shouldn’t have told you that. It’s not finished, and I’m not ready—”
“Ready for what?” His voice remained calm despite his questioning. “For me to know?”
“For anyone to read it,” I retorted. “It needs work first.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Is it us?”
A part of me wanted to deny it, but I wasn’t a liar. “It’s based on what has happened between us,” I explained carefully. “But I’ve changed some things.”
“Like what?”
“Nico doesn’t own an inn. He inherited a hardware store. Totally different business.” I aimed for some humor, but it fell flat.
“Gavin.” Cole sighed.
“I changed other stuff,” I added quickly. “The timeline, backstories, and names. The book is inspired by us. It’s not a memoir.”
“Inspired by,” he repeated. “If people in this town read it, would they know it’s me?”
The twist in my gut tightened. “I probably won’t publish until next November. Who knows what either of us will be doing by then.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not what I asked.”
I exhaled. “If someone wanted to, they could probably figure it out, but it would all just be speculation.”
His mouth pressed into a line. “You know how fast rumors fly around here.”
I stood and faced him. “It’s not like it’s going to be on a billboard in Times Square. I doubt anyone in Brookhaven is rushing to preorder a queer romance. Lynann’s Bookstore probably won’t even carry a single copy.”
“I can guarantee if your name is on the cover, they’ll buy it.” I could hear the anger simmering under the surface.
It wasn’t okay for me to reduce the entire town to a cliché and insinuate bigotry would play a role in their reading selection, and I felt like crap for even voicing the thought. “You’re right. At the very least, they’d probably be curious to see what the story is about.”
He ran a hand over his face. “So, you understand why I’m not thrilled with the idea of people reading it. I hate being the topic of conversation and now you’re forcing me to address something I’m not sure I’m ready for.”
I understood, but that didn’t change what the story meant to me. “I’ve been stuck for months, Cole. I’m not trying to upset you, but it’s my story to tell. I wanted—no, I needed—to write something I could genuinely connect with. Something real.”
He dropped into the chair next to the couch. “You know what felt real to me? That this”—he gestured between us—“would stay private. You led me to believe you were okay with that.”
“I was.” I swallowed hard and sat back on the couch. “I am okay with it, but writing is how I make sense of things. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us, and I’m still not. This story is helping me figure stuff out.”
“But it’s not just you.” He sounded defeated. “You put me in there, and then didn’t tell me.”
“No one has read it,” I argued.
“Except they will.”
We stared at each other silently for a long while. I wanted to reach for him, to pull him into my arms and kiss him until neither of us remembered what we were upset about. Still, I kept my hands to myself.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” I whispered. “Tell me how to fix this.”
“I don’t know how you can.” His words pierced through me. “It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to stop writing. I also can’t pretend I’m okay with my relationship playing out on the pages of a book when I’m not even sure what this relationship is and what I want from it.”
Cole had never promised me anything, but somewhere along the line I’d let myself believe that we could have more than a secret behind closed doors. That we were building something that went beyond broken water heaters, snow days, and late-night dinners.
Maybe it was just the romance writer in me who was desperate to believe in love, and wanted something to look forward to.
Not just someone to warm my bed, but someone to share the small moments with.
Sure, I had Allie, and our friendship meant the world to me, but I still desired that romantic connection with someone.
Maybe I wanted it too much and ignored all the signs telling me Cole wasn’t the one to fill that role. Perhaps he and I were never supposed to be more than a fleeting, opposites-attract holiday hookup I could one day look back on.
“What if I shifted the setting, changed their occupations, and made it less recognizable?” I hesitated a beat. “Would that take away some of your worry?”
He shrugged. “Maybe, but it doesn’t help me get past the fact that you didn’t even tell me. You kept writing about us without asking if I wanted to be a part of the story. For someone who was adamant about consent, you didn’t consider it here.”
Fuck.
Hearing him word it in such simple terms made me realize how badly I’d screwed up.
“I’m sorry.” Those two words didn’t feel like nearly enough. “I’m proud of the story so far, but you’re right. Not giving you a choice wasn’t okay.”
He nodded but stayed silent.
“So, how do we move on from here?”
He leaned back against the cushion. “I still plan on finishing the work at the inn. That part doesn’t change.
” It felt as though the room was closing in on me.
I knew what was coming, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“But I don’t think I can keep doing this.
At least not without wondering if something I do is going to end up in your next chapter. ”
I wanted to drop to my knees and beg for him to understand that I wouldn’t do that again, but whatever trust he had in me had been shattered, and for two people who were only starting to get to know one another, it would be difficult to get back.
I stood again. “Got it. Give me a few minutes to pack up, and then I’ll be out of your way.”
“It’s dark out there, and you still have no water at the inn or electricity. You can stay here tonight and figure out something tomorrow.”
After hearing him say he didn’t think he could continue things with me, staying under the same roof while not being beside him would be nothing short of torture. “I’ve driven in worse.”
He got up as well. “Where are you going?”
“Back to New York.” I cleared my throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed there. “We can keep things professional. Just text or email me about the B&B. Send me invoices, notes, whatever you need.”
He didn’t argue, and that was all the confirmation I needed that things were truly over between us.
It didn’t take me long to gather my belongings. When I returned to the living room, he was still standing in the same place, staring at the floor.
“Cole.” He looked up. “I promise I won’t write anything that makes you feel exposed ever again. I’m sorry I already did.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond before I slipped out the front door and into the blistering cold. Climbing into the driver’s seat, I went to place my phone in the holder when I saw two text notifications from Allie on the locked screen:
I’m so sorry
I thought he knew. Please call me
Checking the time stamp, I realized she’d sent the messages before Cole had come home. I’d had my phone on silent while working and hadn’t heard them come through.
I typed out a response:
It’s not your fault. I should have told him
I’m at Ryan’s but I can come to you if you don’t want to be alone
Did she know I wouldn’t be staying at Cole’s tonight? Had he been so mad when she’d told him that she knew he’d want me to leave?
I didn’t have the energy to think about any of it. Instead, I sent:
It’s okay. Heading to the city tonight. I’ll call you when I get in
Her reply was fast:
Do you want me to ride with you?
Stay. We’ll talk tomorrow
I set my phone in the holder and put my car into gear. At the end of the driveway, I turned onto Aspen Street, leading away from Brookhaven.
I wrote happily ever afters for a living, but tonight mine was slipping away.