Chapter 2

Yeah, I’m a changed man since the accident, or so Bailey often says. He calls me up and invites me and Aaron around all the time. I think we’re the equivalent of poor cousins, though I’m sure he doesn’t see us that way deliberately. He and Cass have been sharing a small house since last Christmas and they’re sickeningly devoted. Hey, I’m only joking, you know? I enjoy being around them, of course I do. They deserve their happiness.

Saul agrees I look much better too, but there’s a shadow in his expression when he says it. Sometimes I’ve caught him talking to Aaron in a low tone, at a time when he thinks I’m somewhere else. When I appear, Saul greets me cheerfully enough, but he doesn’t stay much longer. Then Aaron is particularly attentive to me for some time after.

And now it’s Christmas time, and I realise it’s starting all over again. That thing where they look at me out of the corners of their eyes, where they’re reluctant to leave me alone for any length of time. I ignore it because I don’t really know what else to do. Because they’re right to be suspicious of my recovery. You see, there are times I want to slip back into my flat, bolt the door behind me, and huddle down into the farthermost corner. I see myself curled into the smallest shape that I can, arms hugged around me to keep anything from spilling out, wishing for the sights and sounds from outside to be silenced for good, like heavy snow falling on top of my footprints, covering them until they’re too deep to remember.

It’s only the thought—and the feel—of Aaron that keeps me out of that corner and shivering in the real world.

* * * *

“I think…” I turn slowly around in the wooden cabin’s bedroom, my case wide open on the bed and a pile of folded underwear in my hand. “I think this may be a bad idea after all.”

Aaron stands in the doorway, looking at me. He’s been unpacking the supplies in the kitchen, though that’s rather a grand word for the tiny cooker and a wooden counter set up in the far corner of the lounge-cum-living area. He’s probably wondering how he’s going to create those great meals of his with just a few pans and the minimum of condiments.

“Do you need more space? I didn’t bring much, so you can have the extra drawers in the dresser.”

“I’m not talking about the damned storage, Aaron. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

I hear him take a long, slow breath. There’s no excuse for my snapping at him, of course. “Dan. I thought we talked this through when Bailey first suggested this trip? You were happy to come up here. Is it because of your leg? Is the pain worse—?”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt.

There’s that slow breath again. “Okay. So is it the socialising? There are no crowds out here by the lake, and there’s no obligation to join in any of the celebrations tonight at the clubhouse. It’s up to us what we do for the holiday—”

“That’s it!” I stare down at the bed as if engrossed in my case’s contents. I don’t want to look at his face because I know only too well how his confusion looks. “It’s the usthing, Aaron. The two of us here. The double room thing.” Now I know the confusion is going to look hurt too, but it’s not like I can help myself. Well, maybe I don’t want to. Now I’mriddled with the confusion thing too.

We’d been invited over this year’s Christmas holiday to ski with Bailey’s family and a small group of friends at a new resort in Scotland. Skiing is something I did once on a school trip and loved, even though I was much younger and fitter then. And now Aaron wanted to try it out too. Everyone was keen to leave the city and the frenetic Christmas celebrations behind us, and come away to somewhere crisp and clean and far more relaxing. A great site up in the hills with all the modern facilities, and because Bailey’s parents were somehow connected with the management we had it all at a special low cost. Couldn’t go wrong, could we?

Well, like they say, it seemed like a great idea at the time.

Aaron walks towards me now but stops a couple of feet away. That’s something he’s learned over the last year—that there’s an exclusion zone around me. Although we’ve been close, I’ve always been very possessive of my own flat, my own space. Aaron understands that, the fact that sometimes I panic when he comes near. But then sometimes I smile and draw him in. And the drawing inhas been plentiful and good. So very, very good. He touches me in a way that’s both careful and hungry. Sometimes when he’s nowhere around and I close my eyes, I can still feel the strength of his arms under my fingertips, still taste his smile on my lips. I never thought I’d feel that way about someone, nor that they’d want me as much in return. But I’ve never stayed overnight at his place nor invited him to sleep over at mine. Sometimes the feeling I have for him just doesn’t seem to be enough.