Page 24 of His Christmas Love Song

Ryan can’t do anything but nod tightly. Then Hank’s gone, and Jesse’s standing there, his face tight and unreadable.

He knows he’s supposed to do something. To say something. To play something? He’s got his guitar in his hand. But the song’s not quite right, not yet. But before he can do anything, Jesse’s talking.

“You were playing for Hank?” It’s not an accusation, but there’s still a note of hurt in Jesse’s voice.

“Uh. Yeah. Sort of.”

“Didn’t recognize the song.”

“It’s a new one,” Ryan says, feeling strangely defensive. This isn’t going the way it’s supposed to. “Needed to get a second opinion.”

“Oh.” And now Jesse sounds…sad? “I—are you all right?”

“Huh? I’m fine. I’m glad you’re here.” There, that’s a statement that resembles a conversation opener.

“You are?” Jesse says faintly. “I’ve been out walking around the woods.”

“You want to come in, sit down for a minute?” Look at him, being a grown up.

Jesse peels the beanie off his head, leaving behind a bird’s nest of dark hair. He runs a hand through it in a futile attempt to smooth it down, then comes all the way into the room. “Sure, of course. We need to talk.”

“Yes!” Ryan’s so relieved they seem to be on the same page, he can’t help his smile. But as Jesse shrugs out of his jacket, Ryan suddenly realizes how thirsty he is. He sets down his guitar, retreats to the kitchenette and fills a glass with water from the tap.

“Want anything?” he calls.

“Nah,” Jesse answers, sounding distracted.

He drinks down half the glass, vaguely wishing it wasn’t the middle of the day so he could pour himself something stronger. Then again, even alcohol probably wouldn’t give him the courage he needs to get through this conversation. When he turns back to the living room, his blood goes cold. Jesse’s bent over the armchair, peering at Ryan’s notebook, which he’d left open on the page with his lyrics for Jesse’s song.

He crosses the room quickly, putting his hand over the pages and shutting the notebook. “That’s—the song’s not ready yet.”

“Okay. Sorry for looking. You’ve never minded me—never mind.” Jesse slumps down onto the couch, shoulders rounded in.

“It’s okay.” Ryan should probably use this as an opening. He could say yeah, I’m working on a love song. For you. Because I’m in love with you. How do you feel about me? That’s probably the kind of mature, clear communication Hank had in mind.

Unfortunately, Ryan is still Ryan. “So, how was your walk?” He cringes at the banal question, but Jesse doesn’t seem to be paying attention anyway.

“Look, Ryan. I’m sorry for looking at your lyrics. And I’m sorry for last night. Really, truly, I can’t believe I did that without asking you. I was drunk. And not thinking clearly. So I’m sorry. I really hope you can forgive me, and we can stay friends.”

“Stay friends?” Jesus. Ryan’s suddenly not sure he can do this. Jesse’s worried about them staying friends over an impromptu kiss. What will he say if Ryan tells him he wants to do a lot more than that?

Jesse drops forward off the couch and onto his knees. He looks terrible, bloodshot eyes and hands clasped in front of him as if he’s praying, or begging. Ryan sinks down in the armchair, so the height difference between them isn’t so apparent. His heart is racing, his body not able to process the conflicting emotional inputs.

“I am so sorry,” Jesse says again. “Your friendship is so important to me, Ryan. You have no idea how important. I wouldn’t mess it up for anything, and reading those words, what you were singing to Hank—you have to know I wouldn’t do anything to get in the way of you and Hank. Please tell me we’re going to be okay.”

Jesse looks so wretched; Ryan just wants to say whatever’s going to take the look of anguish off his face. But one part doesn’t make sense. “Get in the way of me and Hank?”

“Was it a love at first sight kind of thing? I get it—the beard’s pretty sexy.” Jesse’s clearly trying for his usual insouciance but failing miserably.

Ryan’s had about enough of this talking in circles. Didn’t Jesse just say their friendship was important to him? He had to believe it could survive Ryan’s love confession. “I’m not in love with Hank,” he says firmly. “And the song isn’t for him. It’s for—”

That’s the moment a sharp rap comes on the cabin door. Jesse’s gaze flies to the door, then back to Ryan, who shrugs. Housekeeping? He gets up to answer the door. But instead of a uniformed employee with a cart, he comes face to face with someone else.

“Cameron?”

TWELVE

Jesse scrambles to his feet. Did he hear Ryan say Cameron?