Page 27 of His Christmas Love Song

“Well, it turns out I’m a little late to this party, but I’d really like to do it again. Properly, this time.”

Ryan freezes. “What?”

“Can I kiss you, Ryan?”

“Why?” It’s said so softly Jesse’s lip reading more than hearing the word come out of Ryan’s mouth.

Uncertainty creeps into Jesse’s chest and makes him drop his hands to his knees. Ryan said in love—but maybe he didn’t mean in love, like, wanting to kiss in love? He bites his lip, not sure how to respond. “Uh. Because you’re really hot? But we don’t have to.” As long as Ryan doesn’t leave, Jesse thinks they can figure this out.

Ryan stands up, and Jesse’s hope ebbs. “I can’t—this is why—” He sighs, sounding exasperated. “No, Jesse.”

No. Well. Okay then. Jesse stands up, too, shoving his hands in his jean pockets so he won’t be tempted to touch Ryan again. “Okay, that’s fine. No kissing. Whatever you want, Ryan.”

Ryan laughs without humor. “We’re really messed up, you know? Can you untangle yourself from what you think I want for five seconds? I just told you I’m in love with you and your reaction was to have a panic attack and then try to kiss me. That’s why I better get a flight home. There’s probably one out of Boston tonight.” Ryan pulls out his phone, as if he can’t wait to get as far away from Jesse as possible.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” Jesse says, knowing he sounds like a whiny toddler.

“Sorry, Jess. Sometimes you don’t get what you want,” Ryan says. Then he goes into his bedroom and shuts the door.

THIRTEEN

There’s no red eye to Nashville, but Ryan grabs a ticket on the first flight out tomorrow. That’ll give him time to pack and find a ride to Boston. He probably needs to talk to Cameron, too. And Hank. He opens his closet door and looks at the few things hanging inside. His mind is blank, his heart feels frozen. If he can just make it back home without breaking down, he’ll be doing okay.

He has a detached, floating kind of sensation. It sort of reminds him of when he joined the Peace Corps. The decision is made—he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not it’s the right one.

He fills his bag with clothes, realizes he left his notebook and his phone charger in the living room. He only hesitates a minute before opening the door to the common area. He’d expected Jesse to have moved but he’s still there, as if Ryan’s last words had turned him to stone.

He keeps his head down and grabs his notebook, his guitar, the charger, and oh, his water bottle and—

“Ryan.”

He hums noncommittally, arms full. Did he have this much stuff when he left Nashville for the tour?

“I know I messed up. Again.” Jesse’s voice sounds choked. “And I’m sorry.”

Ryan falters. He’s always been a sucker for Jesse, always wanting to give him what he wants. If he’s hurting, Ryan wants to help make him feel better. Then he remembers that they’re dealing with something more serious than a bad review or an uncooperative melody.

“I just—please tell me we’re going to be okay,” Jesse says.

Ryan doesn’t know how to promise that when everything seems so upside down. But as much as it hurts to be around Jesse right now, it would hurt more to keep away from him forever. He has to believe they’ll find a way back to some kind of friendship.

He forces himself to look at Jesse. His face is an odd collection of angles and slopes, sharp edges and soft curves. Ryan knows every plane of Jesse’s face better than he knows his own. He still remembers opening his eyes after the explosion, his entire field of vision filled by Jesse. He remembers thinking that if he was about to die, there were a lot worse final things to see than a good-looking guy gazing down on him with concern and relief.

He didn’t die that day. He was reborn when Jesse wormed his way into his life. Ryan doesn’t know how to be a whole person apart from Jesse. Even if Jesse loved him back the way Ryan so desperately loves him, maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to get involved when so much of Ryan’s identity has been wrapped up in Jesse for so long.

He takes a deep breath. Jesse looks like he’s holding his. “I want us to be okay. That’s all I can promise, Jess.” He holds Jesse’s gaze for another beat, then turns around and goes back to his room.

The next time he comes out, Jesse is gone.

* * *

Jesse trudges slowly down the main path with no real aim in mind. He’d gone up in the woods earlier and it hadn’t helped much, either. He can’t remember being this tangled up since the days before he joined the Corps, when he didn’t know how to make his music career happen and he didn’t know if he was cut out to do anything else. The Peace Corps had given him such lovely clarity—just do the thing right in front of him, help the most people he could. Spend his nights writing lyrics for some unknowable fantasy future.

Well, Ryan’s right—he’s living the future he always dreamed of. He has a music career. People all over the country sing along to lyrics that he wrote when they hear his songs on the radio.

But none of it means anything if Ryan isn’t in his life.

He’s cold from the tip of his nose to the bones inside his stupid body. Ryan’s leaving. Because Jesse’s been too unaware to see what his best friend has been dealing with for a while, it sounds like. And whatever Jesse tries to do to make it better seems to blow up in his face.