Chapter 33 #2
The closer it got to midnight, the louder the feast got. Seamus Gallagher who sang along to his guitar barely took a break, and would have kept going if Maddie hadn’t forced him to stop.
“Here, Puppy.” Lew handed me a glass of the Oaken Storm, Lone Fox’s signature whisky. “They’ll light the bonfire in a minute. Want to watch from here or shall we get outside?”
I checked my watch. Midnight was a little over half an hour away.
It was below freezing outside but ….
You’re a Scotsman, Bright!
“Let’s go outside. I want to see the bonfire and the fireworks.”
“Good.” Lew guided me through the crowd with his usual hand on the small of my back.
We bundled up in our coats, hats, and scarves and stepped outside.
There was snow in the air, and we huddled around one of the burning fire baskets by the stillhouse.
Duncan and a huge Minotaur lit a small mountain of lumber with torches.
They stood shoulder to shoulder and stared mesmerised at the rapidly spreading flames before throwing their torches into the fire.
More and more people filed out, among them Skye followed by AEgir, who had a sleeping Bylgja strapped to his chest, SweetPea who had an arm around Clara, and Grace, Lone Fox’s wedding planner who joined Syrad’s side.
Fitz’s physiotherapist had spent a lot of time here to help with the Christmas market.
He was part of the Lone Fox family too, and it warmed my heart how everyone here showed up for each other.
Mirren, Maddie’s step mum, smiled as she stepped up to where her husband stood. She waited for him to play the first chords of Auld Lang Syne on his battered guitar.
I had known it would come, but nothing had prepared me for his smoky voice joining hers. The way I felt the song in my chest, Seamus Gallagher might as well have plucked at my heartstrings.
Tears trickled down my cheeks and froze in the icy night air. Then an arm slipped around my shoulders, and I was pulled into a huge body. The warmth seeped through Lewis’ clothes, my coat, and right under my skin where it spread and soothed the ache and old hurts.
I’m home.
I knew I should have told him then.
“You do not carry last year’s mess into the new one, Noah.” That was what my grandfather used to say.
“TEN, NINE, EIGHT …”
“Lew, I—” I struggled for words.
“SEVEN, SIX, FIVE …”
He pulled me into the shadow of a building until my back was up against a heavy wooden door.
“FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE!”
The words that wouldn’t come were drowned in shouting and cheering from the hugging crowd behind us.
“Happy New Year, Noah,” Lew whispered before he kissed me with his entire body.
“Happy New Year, Lewis,” I gasped when he backed away again.
Holy shit.
Lew bit his lip, clearly pleased with how thoroughly he’d stolen my breath.
We joined the others for more hugs and well wishes before groups broke off the crowd to visit the warehouse, the office, the cooperage, and the hotel. Bread, salt, candles, and whisky was carried between the spaces and laughter echoed off the rough stone buildings.
“Happy New Year, Noah,” Maddie said as she hugged me and kissed my cheek. “It’s so good that you’re here with us.”
Ollie eventually found me, too. He looked upset and like he’d cried, but I didn’t want to lay into him.
“Happy New Year, Noah,” he said next to my ear as he squeezed me to him, then he sniffed.
“Happy New Year, Ollie.” I tried to put what I couldn’t say into the hug and held him for a long time. Tears still swam in his eyes when we let go. He nodded and pressed his lips together as if he willed the tears not to fall. Then he turned and walked away.
“Kat and Roy just called,” Lew murmured in my ear. “They wish us a Happy New Year.” I hadn’t even noticed he’d been on his phone but squeezed his forearm.
“Thank you.” Maybe we could go see them once I’d plucked up the courage to tell him that I was staying.
The night slowed as SweetPea, who’d been chosen to be the first foot, made his way around the estate to carry gifts and blessings over each threshold.
“Come on, let’s head back to my apartment and wait for him there.”
We walked back to the staff house in silence, our breaths mingling in the cold night air.
In Lew’s apartment, we stood facing the door.
SweetPea opened the door without knocking, with his curls for once not tied back into the high bun but floating around his face.
It made him look ten years younger and even more attractive.
He beamed as he crossed the threshold with a bottle of whisky tucked under his arm.
“There you go,” SweetPea said, and he set the bottle down on Lew’s kitchen counter. “First foot’s in. Mind ye make good use of it.” With a wink and a little wave, he left.
“Right.” Lewis took two tumblers off a high shelf and poured two healthy measures of amber liquid out for us. No ice, no water, just pure Scottish burn. We always took our whisky neat.
“To you,” he said as we clinked the glasses’ heavy bottoms together.
“No. To us,” I corrected him, and we both downed our drinks in one. The alcohol seared in my throat and warmed my belly.
“To us,” Lew repeated. He put both our glasses next to the bottle, closed the distance between us, and hoisted me up into his arms. “Lets get you out of this kilt, Puppy.” Lew growled, nipping the side of my neck playfully.
“I’ve been dreaming of having you spread out for me like this all night,” he said as he placed me gently on top of his mattress.
Afterwards, when we lay in his bed, the world seemed soft and close, yet a million miles away. The words sat right on my tongue, but I still couldn’t say them.
The right moment would present itself. I knew that, but dammit. I really wished Lew wasn’t too noble to tell me that he wanted me to stay.