My eyes cascaded to the bright, blue sky outside the frosted windows. Reality hit me hard and in the gut. A reality that didn't involve Ean Hunter but my fancy job and high-rise apartment.
He stayed quiet, heartache attacking his charming features.
I couldn't form a thought on the subject and most certainly couldn't quell his worries, so I walked to the kitchen and started making breakfast.
His eyes were all over me as I fought to get a glass pan free for a baked scramble. The minutes dragged, only interrupted by the soft crackle of the record player and my mother's dowdy Christmas carols.
I swallowed because I hurt and when I looked up I saw his pain too.
It was Christmas. We were supposed to be happy, weren't we?
We stared at each other and I couldn't take it any longer, I turned away and started cracking eggs into a bowl.
Then he was behind me, his arm wrapping my waist as he nuzzled me into a sedation of sorts.
I began to crack, feeling like two people splitting in half. One that ran a huge company and one that was--
My eyes snapped open and stared at the back splash of his kitchen. The marble tile had been laid in with care and I knew he'd probably done it all himself.
The music broke me further and I pictured my life growing up, my family I hadn't seen in years and my mother in her apron at the kitchen counters. I could have had her happy, seamless life if I chose to be with someone like Ean Hunter, but it had always been everything I hadn't wanted.
He took my elbow and turned me towards him.
“Breakfast--” I tried to protest as he pulled my hips to him and our eyes locked together. His hand holding my cheek as his mouth met mine.
I stood frozen before him as he longingly kissed me. His sadness evident amongst his desperation, but I still could not breach the subject with him.
His hand on my back loosened and his other took mine, stepping back from me, he guided me into a twirl.
“What are you doing?”
He pulled me back into him. “Dance with me, Amy.”
My heart fell from my chest like someone had wrenched it out. The emotion frightened me. I'd never been asked to dance, I'd never been twirled and guided, and lastly, I'd never wanted to dance.
“I can't dance.”
“Everyone can dance.” He started to lead me through it and I stumbled. “Except you,” he laughed.
I looked up at him and he twirled me again, bringing me back even tighter. Our foreheads dropped together as my eyes shut from my pounding heart. I didn't understand what was happening. I felt like I was crumbling; I felt like I was about be nothing.
He held me close as he rocked and I followed with my weak knees and uncertainties, clutching the fabric of his flannel.
His nose rubbed against mine, taking in a ragged breath. “Amy, I--”
My eyes were shut tight, my heart pumping adrenaline as I longed to hear what he tried to say to me. I realized then, at that moment, how I'd given in to him, enjoyed him and let him have feelings for me.
It had been all my fault. I had led him to believe I was someone I wasn't.
I parted from him, slipping my hand out of his roughly.
He stood in front of me like a statue of fear, reaching out as I pushed my hips against the granite away from him.
“You must be hungry. I'll make breakfast.” I turned my back, giving him the message of my problematic feelings. His footsteps were heard as he walked to the fire, as the Christmas music played lightly in the background.
This was my Christmas, this was the reality of it.
The making of breakfast relieved me, the more I accomplished, the better I felt - like at work. I didn't think about Ean directly, only about making the perfect meal for him as he deserved. He had saved me after all and owed him for that.
I walked to the table and started to set it. My eyes falling on him; where he sat on the couch reading a magazine.
I walked back to the oven and checked my masterpiece that was now done as the timer chimed. I clicked it off and removed the food. “Breakfast is ready.”
Cutting into the baked scramble, I revelled in the smell, just like when my mother had made it on Christmas morning and I was surprised I'd pulled it off so well.
He walked over and put his magazine on the granite counters, I glanced at it, a hunting magazine of all things. I stared at the deer on the cover, startled by the appeal of such a thing.
"You read about killing animals?"
He tapped his finger on the photo of the deer. "In all fairness, that deer almost killed you."
I ignored his comment and dished up the food, busying myself away from my thoughts of how freakishly different he was from me.
He waited, calmly and patiently as I loaded him a plate.
“I hope you like it.”
“Looks great.” He took the serving, grazing my hand in the transfer.
I shivered at the touch and pick up my plate to get away from him.
He walked ahead of me to the table and I followed, sitting down across from each other. I crossed my legs and picked up my fork, needing to fill my stomach.
With nothing said between us, we finished our meal in record time. Then I didn't know what else to do, so I asked the most pressing of questions, “Ean, did you... try the radio?”
He stood abruptly and took our plates to the kitchen. “Not yet. It's in the shop.”
“Well,” I started, “Maybe you can see if someone can get a hold of Elizabeth.”
“I'll see if I can.” He put the dishes in the washer and slammed the door.
I stared at him as I got up out of my chair. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“No nothing.” He headed to the front door and my heart started to race.
“Ean,” I called, but my words fell on deaf ears as he shoved his arms into his coat.
“You don't--”
He turned to me suddenly, stopping me mid sentence. “I'll go plough the driveway and get you out of here.”
Stunned by his harsh words to me, my mouth gaped.
“I'm not into keeping people hostage as much as I want to.” He left the house and slammed the door.
My heart stopped. I took in no air. Not one breath.
My mind raced. I hadn't told him I wanted to leave, it was like he knew - like he'd felt my thoughts. However, I did want to go home, I couldn't deny that it just hurt to think about leaving him in the process.
I went about cleaning his kitchen; more like excavating it with cleanliness, but what did it matter? It kept all my thoughts away from him.
The door of the cabin opened and I shot up from the counters where I'd been soaping them.
He took off his jacket, looking cold and flushed, but he had been outside for almost two hours. “We can go when you want.”
“Oh, you got ahold of someone?” I wrung the rag out and hung it over the tap.
“Yeah, I'll get you to the resort.”
It's like he wanted me gone as soon as possible, I didn't get it!
“Ean, what's wrong?” I walked to him as he moved towards the fire, avoiding me.
“Why didn't you put any wood on?”
I hadn't thought of it; that was why.
He threw three logs on haphazardly. “You can borrow some of my pants. Top drawer of my dresser.”
I started to get annoyed. “Ean.”
“Just go get some pants on, Amy!” His eyes met mine and I felt his anger.
I couldn't believe him, couldn't believe he was angry with me! Having enough of our conversation, I stormed to his room and slammed the door.
What an idiot he was!
I ripped apart his dresser, mind set on getting out of there. I had been so stupid to develop feelings for him. I found a pair of sweat pants in the drawer and snatched them out, revealing Claire's photos. It only made me angrier, I put on a pair of pants and decided to deal with him once and for all.
“I don't deserve to be treated like this. I didn't do anything!” I flooded his bedroom with what felt like a gale force wind behind me.
He walked away, but I trailed his steps, getting in his space for an answer. He wasn't going to get off the hook with his bereaved widow eyes.
“Ean!” I snapped.
“You don't need to say a thing!” He shot around to me. “I get it.”
“You're acting like a jerk.”
“Well, Amy,” he growled, “If that's going to make it easier, then it's going to make it easier.”
I fumed from his words of idiocy. “I didn't say I wanted to leave, I told you to radio someone!”
“And I did! They know you're coming.”
“Ean, why are you kicking me out? None of this makes any sense--”
“You want to leave!” he exclaimed. “I can feel it. Your mood just switched, you even stopped looking at me...” he broke. I saw his hurt and it hurt me too.
“Ean,” I breathed.
His eyes snapped to me and he asked coldly, “Are you ready to go?”