You for Christmas Page 5

  Felix noticed her stare from the doorway, followed it. His expression roughened. “They making you uncomfortable?”

  “Just being morons.”

  “Want me to go over there?” The scowl on his face betrayed he would.

  “I can take care of myself,” she muttered, tugging up the thin straps of her singlet.

  “I don’t doubt it.” He held the door open and as she passed, a gentle roll of clean masculine scent engulfed her. She almost closed her eyes, but settled for holding the breath in. “But surely it’d be nice to have back up.”

  It was an offhand comment, followed instantly by a complaint about the heat, but Regan didn’t answer. The emotion that suddenly gripped her throat was too tight.

  She’d never had backup. Never felt a net of support beneath her. Since she’d run away, it had been Regan versus The World, for she’d known the repugnant things the world did to the unsuspecting.

  She’d let no one close enough to help her in fear they’d hurt her instead. Obligingly, they steered clear of her flat stares and difficult conversation. The same stares and backchat she’d used on Felix—and he’d offered her backup without a second thought.

  Regan trailed a half-step behind him as they headed back to his apartment. Swallowing was like pushing down a clenched fist. So this was how it felt to have his guiding hand on her back, steering her away from harm. Not overprotective or possessive, just...there.

  Stevie was one lucky woman.

  Alarm filled her at the thought that this might be her one and only brush with being supported. Yes, she had a plan. She’d found Felix and he’d allowed her to stay. In just a few hours, he’d treated her with more ease, more concern, than anyone had in a long time. He made smiling feel safe. But even if spending time with him went some way towards letting her guard down, there was no guarantee that it would result in a fuller life.

  The better version of herself might still be the kind of woman that no one could love.

  Chapter Three

  Back at the apartment, Regan’s bad mood was palpable. It pushed at Felix like a palm to the chest, warning him to keep clear. Her shoulders were rigid, her lips tight, and her glance refused to swing his way. It wasn’t that she’d been particularly open since she’d arrived, but he’d glimpsed warmth through the cracks of her smile, the amused flash of her eyes. Now he suspected jetlag had finally jumped her and she just needed space.

  He granted it. When she stalked into the kitchen, boiling the kettle and making coffee, Felix booted up his computer. When she heaved the kumquat pot from the living area to the balcony, watering it from a large saucepan and plucking off aging leaves, he let her be. When she returned inside, taking the graphic novel from the bookshelf and curling up on the couch, he slid on his headphones and met her turned back with his.

  Felix knew good moods were fickle. That some people needed to recharge in silence. He vaguely wondered why she didn’t just go to bed, but said nothing as she ignored him for the better part of an hour. It was only when she threw his book across the room, muttering under her breath, that irritation had him hauling off his earphones and spinning to face her.

  “Hey,” he said, voice level. “That’s a favorite.”

  She sat glowering, arms folded and legs tucked beneath her. “I don’t see why. It’s damn depressing.”

  “So you needed to throw it?”

  “He’s so lonely.” She spat the last word like a curse.

  Felix got that. The comic was hardly uplifting. It followed the life of a homeless youth who slept in the abandoned ballroom above Flinders Street Station. The character was acutely alone, even if he did help ghosts move on to the next life. It had an eerie, unsettling atmosphere, the color-drained sketches capturing his sunken face and rundown setting. Jed had been a bit like that. Before he’d been reunited with the love of his life, he’d spent his days adrift like the youth he illustrated.

  “He helps ghosts,” Felix offered.

  “Oh.” Her lips curved. “That makes it much less depressing.”

  Her derision fed his irritation. “Do you damage everything that displeases you?”

  “Yes.”

  “No doubt that extends to people.”

  She pulled back, features pinching. She didn’t answer.

  Felix inhaled deep and tugged at the back of his neck. Then he reversed out of the altercation. “Sorry,” he said. “You okay? You seem out of sorts.”

  “Never been in sorts,” she muttered.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  He ostensibly changed the topic in an attempt to pinpoint the problem. Leaning back, he asked, “Where will you go when you leave here?”

  She raised a shoulder, attention fixed on the coffee table.

  “You got plans for a new job?” She’d quit the ice roads after all.

  The shoulder lifted again.

  Felix flexed his jaw. “Heading back to Canada or kicking around Melbourne?”

  She straight out ignored him that time, running a hand over her face and resuming her stare at the table.

  “I’m just trying to make conversation.”

  “And I’m trying not to.”

  “So the plan is to tell me nothing.” Frustration set hard down his spine. “You travel across the world just to stay here for a few days. After eight years of silence. As if two nights in a spare bedroom is the equivalent to ten grand. And I don’t get an explanation.”

  Her silence agreed with his final statement.

  “Makes me wonder why not,” he said coolly. “Makes me think you won’t stay long enough to see Stevie. Makes me think you don’t want her to know anything more about you than she knows now. And that’s cruel, Regan. It really is.”

  Regan shifted, but she didn’t look up.

  “It took a year before Stevie didn’t cry every time your name came up.”

  No comment.

  “We thought you might have been dead. Did I tell you that?”

  Her chin jutted. Reserving the right to remain silent.

  “You can’t have expected to turn up and not offer an explanation.”

  Evidently, she had.

  God, he hated being in this position. Not knowing what she was doing here. Not knowing whether she’d disappear again. He couldn’t even read the look she flashed at him. Resentment, unease, wariness. Who knew? All emotion seemed to be delivered through narrowed eyes and it was getting on his nerves.

  “I don’t know who you are, Regan,” he said in exasperation.

  “Join the club.”

  “I’ve given you space. I’ve given you time to settle in. It’s time you talked.”

  “I don’t talk.”

  “Yeah?” He nodded, mouth twisted darkly. “Then maybe you should leave.”

  That wiped the glare clean off her face. She stared at him, eyes wide, uncertain.

  “I’m not going to tell Stevie that her dearest sister stayed with me for two days and I didn’t get a word out of her.”

  “You’d prefer to tell her that you kicked me out?”

  “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, yeah. She’d understand.” Eventually.

  Felix didn’t let his gaze waver. If she called his bluff, well, then they’d both find out whether he had it in him.

  “No,” she whispered, and shook her head.

  “It’s not up to you.” Regret wrapped around his throat as he said, “You asked for a place to stay, to rest, and sure, I can give you that. But you’re not just a friend passing through town. You disappeared, Regan. There are questions that need answers here.”

  She stared at him, cracked lips pulled thin. Rallying a sharp comeback, a scathing deflection. Felix braced himself, expecting the worst—and got it when tears pushed from her eyes. She covered her mouth, looking down.

  “I’m not asking for every detail,” he said, softer now. “But you’ve gotta give me something.”

  “I don’t know how, okay?” When she raised her head,
her eyes blazed with anger and the heat of unshed tears. “It’s not like I’ve had close company all these years. I haven’t even had ghosts to talk to,” she said, gesturing sharply towards the fallen novel.

  Felix’s inhale caught painfully.

  “You want me to give you something?” Anguish battled for control of her features, but her anger seemed to put up a strong fight. A tear fell down her cheek. “I’m alone, okay? I have no family, no friends, no one who smiles at me when I walk into the room. I’ve got no one in my life.” Her voice was hoarse, broken. “I don’t know how to talk to people anymore.”

  He waited, heart bleeding.

  “I’m sick of myself.” She ran the back of her hand over her tear-streaked face, rough, impatient. “I don’t want to think about who I am, because I can’t think of anything good. I’m mean, I’m rude. I push people away out of habit and I can’t bear it anymore. I came here to change, to be better, and I’m still just pushing you away.”

  Dismayed, Felix ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that bad.”

  “You’re threatening to kick me out!” More tears fell, spotting her singlet. “I don’t have anyone else who’ll help me. I don’t want to drive trucks anymore and I don’t want to go back to Canada. This was supposed to be a sanctuary. A couple of days with a good person and I’d remember how to act better. But I don’t think it’s going to work. I know you’re reaching out, trying to understand me, but I don’t know how to reach back.”

  Regan was stuck. Inside herself.

  Felix closed his eyes. At least he knew there was someone to save inside; someone who wanted out. “You want to change? Learn how to open up?”

  She nodded, sniffling. Then her chin rose, daring him to notice all the tears she’d shed.

  “Why now?”

  Her mouth tightened. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  Later, then. One step at a time. “You want to become more...approachable?”

  Her eyes were deep, endless, struggling to see clearly. “I think so.”

  “Okay,” he said, trying to get his head around it all.

  He owed her his patience. Because when she’d stuffed ten grand down his pants, she hadn’t only given him money. She’d given him opportunity; a chance to make his life better. And he’d taken it and built the world he wanted.

  He realized now that was the full weight of the debt he owed her. An opportunity to become the person she wanted to be.

  “Okay,” he said again.

  She ran a hand over her nose, not answering.

  “I’m sorry I upset you.” And that the situation had pushed him to it. “But I won’t kick you out. We’re going to need to work together, okay?”

  Another sniffle, followed by a weak, “I’ll try.”

  “If I help you, you have to agree to see Stevie.”

  Her features broke apart again, and her fingers curled around her waist. “I can’t.” Her voice cracked miserably. “I don’t want her to see me like this.”

  To be fair, he wouldn’t want to be reunited in her state either. But she needed support and that meant family. “Not immediately. When you feel up to it, I’ll tell her you’re in town. It’s something you need to do.” For Stevie’s sake as much as her own. “And if you refuse, then you’re not serious about changing and there’s no point in you being here.”

  “I know.” A few seconds pause, then, “Leaving her is my biggest regret.” She smiled wryly, tears shimmering. “Trust me, that’s saying something.”

  Cruel of him to say, “You could have told her you were leaving.” But he’d never been able to understand the way she’d abandoned her own sister.

  “No, I couldn’t.” That was firm. “She’d have asked why.”

  Felix frowned. “It became pretty clear once you left.”

  Could have been the blue light of the computer screen, but the blood seemed to drain from her face. “What?”

  “You’d stolen twenty thousand dollars, Regan. It attracted reasonable attention.”

  She swallowed. “Of course it did.”

  “You can stay here while I’m away.” It was clear that another day or two wasn’t going to help. She would need weeks; time enough to relax and develop a plan for building a better life. “I won’t be back until mid-January, so there’s no rush.”

  “That offer is too big.” She looked torn. “But I really want to say yes.”

  “Then stay. It’s that easy.”

  She gave a nod, followed by a shuddering breath, so big he imagined it released her fears. She pushed her hair back from her face. “God, Christmas is supposed to be full of cheer, not chaos. Sorry.”

  Felix paused as an idea hit him, bright and full of promise. “It’s not too late,” he said. “We could always get into the Christmas spirit.”

  She glanced around his apartment, unconvinced. “You don’t seem to care about Christmas.”

  “Oh, I care.” He leaned forward on the chair, hands clasped between his knees. “I only finished work today. But this apartment block is home to an annual Christmas competition that’s taken very seriously.”

  Her lips twisted in a hesitant smile. “Really?”

  “Best decorated apartment wins the parking space right out front for the next year.” Each competing apartment dweller had to vote for their favorite, excluding their own.

  “You ever won it?”

  He shook his head, holding her gaze. “But I’m determined.”

  “Deadline?”

  “Judging is on Thursday. So we’ve got two days to turn this place into a Christmas wonderland.”

  She inhaled shakily and her hands released their grip on her waist. “Then you’re going to need help.”

  “All the help I can get.” He smiled.

  This could work. A positive task to keep her busy, to give her a chance to relax and remember how to work with someone else.

  And as she helped, she could start to open up. Not a magic fix, but a starting point. He wanted that for her.

  As he held her cautious gaze, a gaze that saw right into his heart, an uncomfortable truth uncurled in his chest. He didn’t only want it because she was Stevie’s sister, or because he owed her.

  He wanted it for her.

  Bravery didn’t have to come with a noble cause. For some people, it was essential for daily life. He’d needed it once, to pursue his passion in the face of his father’s outrage. Felix knew it was bravery that got Regan out of bed every morning; that kept her chin up with no one around to tilt it up for her. Bravery of an epic scale enabled her to drive on the ice roads.

  And she soldiered on alone. No one lent her support. No one eased the weight of her troubles. Regan powered herself, day in, day out, and that was most remarkable of all.

  Determination burned him along with the fresh flare of respect. He had to make this Christmas a good memory to pave her path to betterment. The best, if he could manage it.

  “So are you in?” he asked.

  She smiled back, glorious with hope. “I’m in.”

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Regan woke early. Harsh sunlight streamed through the open curtain and she groaned, rolling over and burying her face into the sheets. She’d left the window unwound, seeking fresh air when she’d come to bed, but now early summer heat thickened the room. A simple room, she thought blurrily, with this brown-sheeted double bed and little chest of drawers beside it, complete with alarm clock and nightlight. Some nerdy poster was stuck to the back of the door and a wicker crate sat beneath the window, home to several folded blankets. She vaguely wondered whether it was common for guys to have a spare bedroom set up like this, but was hardly in a position to guess at what was normal.

  Rubbing her eyes, Regan kicked the sheet off. After Felix had gone to bed, she’d stayed up on the balcony, far from sleep. She’d cried eventually, sharing her tears with her home town. I’m back. And still a wreck. The blessing of Felix’s help was tainted by her shame. He would help her—now
that he knew how messed up she was.

  Questions had raged in his eyes. Why? He’d looked desperate to know. Why are you like this?

  He hadn’t asked.

  And she didn’t intend to enlighten him.

  Regan sat up, dragging her bare legs off the edge of the mattress. Felix had offered her a shirt to wear to bed the night before, his thoughtfulness made sweeter by the selection he’d then carried out from his bedroom. “I’m not sure which one you’d want.” He’d stood back, hands in his pockets. “Unless”—He’d gestured towards his room—“I have others.”

  Smiling, she’d chosen the largest. A loose, blue cotton t-shirt with the soothing scent of a soporific.

  The cool fabric bunched around her hips now as she stared tiredly at the dust flecks floating in the sunlight. Today she was going to be better. No tears, no breakdowns. Just a nice, new Regan.

  Make that a nicer, new Regan.

  Best not get ahead of herself.

  Standing, she replaced the t-shirt with her red singlet and pulled her jeans back on. First task of the day was to sort out the summer clothing issue.

  The apartment was quiet. Felix’s bedroom door was still closed, so she made herself at home in the kitchen. She found bread in the freezer, sausages and eggs in the fridge. She fried enough sausages for two, loaded up a plate, and ate until she had to lie down on the balcony. The morning sun nourished her pale skin, and for a while, she recovered on the in-built wooden bench, eyes closed and body warming.

  By nine, Felix still hadn’t emerged, so she left the sausages in the fridge, a note on the bench, and hoped he’d be home to open the door when she returned.

  Then she hesitated, knowing she owed him her trust.

  She placed his phone beside the note.

  After that, she hit the shops. Ordinarily, Regan wasn’t one for shopping. Crowds pushed, sales assistants pushed—the whole experience grated. Considering the Christmas madness, it should have definitely done her head in, but she scarcely noticed mothers exploiting the bulldozer capacity of their prams and businessmen taking their own disorganization out on shop attendants. It could have been the smells of Melbourne, strange in their familiarity; could have been the buskers playing carols and the horse-drawn carriages clopping down Swanston Street, adorned in red baubles and glittering tinsel. Whatever it was, she swiped her card with a little flourish from one store to the next. Bags gathered on her arms, filled with shorts and t-shirts, singlets and skirts. One swipe put her in possession of new underwear and two sets of summer pajamas, and another made her the proud owner of a cap and flip-flops. She stocked up on groceries, aware that Felix hadn’t planned for her, and even found a citrus fertilizer for his kumquat.