Kyle listened to music and read the thriller on his Kindle app, trying to give his brain a break from thinking. But despite his best efforts his mind kept wandering from the words on the page and coming back to Patrick and what had happened earlier. His attempt to provoke a little jealousy had backfired horribly, resulting in a rift between them that Kyle wasn’t even sure he wanted to fix.

Patrick’s apology was a start, but it wasn’t enough.

For the first time in years, Kyle had allowed himself to be vulnerable. He’d given up control in every possible way, physically, but also emotionally. Because he’d allowed himself to care about Patrick in a way that he hadn’t with any other guy since Chris.

After letting his guard down, Patrick’s readiness to believe the worst about Kyle cut deep. He knew they hadn’t always got along, and he’d be the first to admit that he could be annoying—deliberately sometimes. But to have Patrick think badly of him about something he hadn’t done, and would never do, made Kyle question why Patrick had ever got involved with him. All that talk about wanting respect and connection had made Kyle start to hope that their tentative foray into a physical relationship might start to mean something.

It clearly meant shit if Patrick was capable of believing that Kyle was a heartless wanker who was happy to sleep around and not care about who might be hurt as a result. Patrick was obviously a giant hypocrite. He was led by his dick as much as the next guy while trying to cling onto the moral high ground.

Respect and connection my arse.

Leaning back on the uncomfortable upright wooden chair, Kyle yawned, wiped out by the emotional roller coaster that Christmas Day had been. He was longing for his own bed at home, wanting to hide under the covers and let sleep give him a break from thinking. But when he had to share a bed with Patrick sleep would be hard to come by. Deciding that if he got a head start he might manage to doze off before Patrick joined him, Kyle went to brush his teeth.

That done, he paused the music, and took one earbud out. As he passed Patrick, he said, “I’m knackered. I’m going to bed.”

“I could sleep on the sofa… if you like?” Patrick offered in the tone of one who was hoping his suggestion would be refused.

“That would be great. Thanks. You can have the blanket.” Kyle put his earbud back in, pressed play, and climbed the ladder without looking back. He chucked the blanket over the edge so it landed on the floor and pulled the duvet up around his ears. Eyes closed, music playing, he shut out Patrick and the rest of the world, waiting for sleep to roll in and bless him with sweet oblivion for a while.

Monday 26th of December—Boxing Day

Kyle woke properly after a restless night to the sound of the kettle coming to the boil and the clink of a teaspoon in a mug. Patrick was trying to be quiet, but in a small space like this it was impossible to get up and move around without disturbing the other person. Warm and relaxed, Kyle rolled over, and stretched his arm across the mattress.

For a brief moment, Kyle was confused about why the bed beside him was cold. Then he remembered their row the night before and his stomach turned over. Suddenly wide awake the hurt and anger of yesterday flooded back, not quite as strong as at the time but the echo was still unpleasant.

Not in the mood to face Patrick, Kyle rolled back to face the wall and lay still, wishing he could fall asleep again. But unhappy and unsettled, it wasn’t going to happen. Instead he listened to the sounds of Patrick moving about until the smell of toast and the lure of tea was too much. They were stuck together for another day at least, so he’d have to get this over with sometime.

Easing himself out from under the covers, Kyle descended the ladder, and picked up his jeans to pull on. “Morning,” he said, voice rough from sleep. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Patrick.

“Good morning.” Patrick’s tone was muted. “Did you sleep okay?”

Kyle finally glanced over at him and noticed dark circles under his eyes. He looked rough, but the sight of him still made Kyle’s chest tighten with longing. “Yes, great thanks.” It could have been worse, considering. “You?”

“Not the best. This sofa’s not really designed for a full-grown man to sleep on.” He rolled his shoulders.

“Yeah. I guess not.”

Patrick wouldn’t have been able to stretch out on it, but that wasn’t Kyle’s problem. It had been Patrick’s idea to sleep there, so Kyle wasn’t going to apologise. He went into the bathroom and had a piss, and then put the kettle on. Normally he’d have asked Patrick if he wanted more tea, but he didn’t bother this morning. After a couple of pieces of toast, Kyle felt slightly better. Still gutted about what had happened, he resolved to keep busy today, and make the best of things.

“I’m going to go over and see Mrs Wilcox soon,” he said. “See if she needs me to take Dex out.”

“Do you want company?” Patrick asked hopefully. “I’d like a walk too. It looks nice out today, sunny and clear.”

“No. I’d rather go alone.” Not ready to accept Patrick’s tentative olive branch, Kyle needed to protect himself, like a snail retreating into its shell. Perhaps he’d feel differently later but he wanted time to lick his wounds. He was afraid that if he spent time with Patrick he’d forgive him for the wrong reasons. The pull of desire, a constant tug in the pit of his belly, might make him weaken.

“Oh. Okay.” Patrick didn’t try to hide his disappointment. “Kyle, I already said I’m sorry. Maybe I should’ve—”

“I get it. I know you’re sorry. But that doesn’t take away the fact that it happened.”

“But I want to explain why I acted like I did.”

At the sight of Patrick’s stricken face, Kyle relented slightly. “Not now. I need some time away from you to get some perspective. I can’t think straight when I’m around you.” He flushed at the admission, but it was true.

Patrick’s eyes opened wider and their gazes locked for a few seconds that seemed to last forever.

“Right.” Kyle turned away and started putting on his outdoor clothes. “I’m going in a minute. Are you going to stay here? Should I take the key?”

“I think I’m going to go out for a walk. Don’t worry,” Patrick added quickly. “I’ll go farther afield so our paths won’t cross. This area is on the map I used for my walk the other day so I can plan a route. I’ll stay out for a few hours to give both of us some space. The door locks itself so you can take the key and if you’re not here when I get back I’ll come and find you—I assume the only other place you’re likely to be is with Mrs Wilcox?”

“Yes,” Kyle replied. He wasn’t in the mood to go and sit in a pub on his own. If Mrs W got fed up of his company, or ran out of jobs for him, he’d come back here. He paused, remembering the last time Patrick had gone for a walk alone. “Shouldn’t you let me know your route? Just in case?” It must be harder to navigate in snow.

“Good thinking. I’ll leave a note here telling you where I’m going, and I’ll aim to be back here by three to allow some leeway before it gets dark.”

“Okay.” Patrick might be a judgemental prick, but Kyle didn’t want him freezing to death on a snowy hilltop. “See you later then.”

As he knocked on Mrs Wilcox’s door, Kyle realised it might be a little early to visit. But as Dex started barking inside it was too late to back out. She didn’t take long to answer the door.

“Good morning, Mrs W. I hope I didn’t get you out of bed?”

“No, dear. I’ve been up for a while. I’ve always been an early riser. Come in.” She ushered him inside. “No Patrick today?”

“He’s going for a hike. I thought I’d come over and get on with chopping some more wood for you. And will Dex want a walk soon?”

At the sound of the word “walk” Dex pricked up his ears and trotted over to Kyle, wagging his tail. Mrs Wilcox laughed. “I think that’s a yes.”

“Okay, perhaps a walk before the wood chopping.”

“But let me make you a cup of tea first.” She was already making her way to the kitchen, so Kyle followed. He might have just had a cup, but he could always drink more tea.

Kyle took Dex on their usual route.

There was a change in the weather today. The bitter cold of the last couple of days had passed and the air was more gentle on Kyle’s lungs as he breathed it in. The sky was mostly clear and as the sun climbed higher, Kyle could feel the warmth of it on his cheeks. This time, like on the first walk, he headed through the woods. The snow was softer beneath his feet, the icy crispness gone, and patches of earth and dead leaves were just beginning to emerge where it was thawing. Icicles had formed on the tree branches, and the drips from them made tiny holes in the snow.

As Kyle entered into the field beyond the woods, the sight of the mistletoe-laden tree in the centre sent a spike of wistfulness through him. That kiss had been the turning point, the moment when the connection between them became more than purely sexual. It had felt that way to Kyle at least. Something had shifted the moment their lips met that day.

He huffed in frustration. Anger and hurt flaring up again and threatening to overwhelm him.

Hurrying past the tree, Kyle continued to the next stile, and followed his nose. There was no visible path, but a gate on the opposite side seemed like a good place to head for. He was walking fast up a slope now and was soon warm from the exertion. He carried on through the gate and out onto a steep hillside with no more walls to mark out fields, just empty space with the occasional bush or small, twisted tree to break up the monotony.

Dex romped along, obviously enjoying the chance to burn off some energy on the longer walk. He’d run ahead a little, but would always look back to check Kyle was still there and kept coming back every few minutes, as though to make sure he didn’t fall behind. Sweat prickled on Kyle’s back and at his temples, so he unzipped the fleece he was wearing—Patrick’s—and took his hat off and shoved it in the pocket. Breathless, he carried on up the hill until he reached a rocky outcrop. There he turned and looked back the way he’d come, blown away by the beauty of the scene.

His single line of footsteps marked the snow, with Dex’s trail circling around them like a crazy doodle on a piece of paper. Morning sun dazzled him where it reflected off the white, and the sky was a deep blue, so vivid that if it had been in a photograph on Instagram Kyle would have suspected a filter. Far below, the houses of Langbeck nestled, tucked safely in the snowy valley like breakables laid in tissue paper. The spire of the church rose tall and smoke curled upwards from chimneys.

Lost in the pleasure of the view and the satisfaction of his climb, Kyle experienced a lifting of his spirits. He’d never been much of a one for country walks, but maybe he’d reassess that now. If nothing else, perhaps he’d take this away from his little interlude with Patrick—an appreciation for the beauty of the countryside and the enjoyment of exploring it.

When he got back to Mrs Wilcox’s cottage, Kyle declined another cup of tea and went straight into chopping wood for her log burner. They’d got through quite a lot yesterday and he wanted to be sure she had plenty to keep her going until her son could visit again. He got into a rhythm of log splitting, the heavy drop and thwack of the axe incredibly satisfying. As he swung the axe, muscles straining, his residual anger from last night gradually dissipated until he felt calm and centred again. Pausing just once to strip his T-shirt off, Kyle worked until his arms were tired and his shoulders were aching. Mopping his brow with his balled up T-shirt, Kyle surveyed the stack of wood he’d amassed, reckoning it would be enough to keep her going for a couple of weeks at least.

Dressed in his sweaty T-shirt again, Kyle went back into the house and found Mrs Wilcox standing at the cooker. Leaning on her stick she was stirring a pan with her free hand. Hearing him enter, she looked around and said, “Hello, dear.”

“Hi.” Kyle smiled. “Something smells good.”

“It’s just some tinned soup—chicken and veg, I hope that’s okay? I thought you’d be ready for food. You haven’t stopped all morning.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Kyle’s stomach growled. He hadn’t noticed how hungry he was till he smelt cooking. “Can I help with anything?”

“No. Just go and wash your hands. It’ll be ready soon.”

Sure enough, by the time Kyle returned from the bathroom she had put two bowls of steaming soup on the table, along with a loaf of bread, the butter dish, and some cheese left over from Christmas Day. Seeing the Stilton reminded Kyle of Patrick, and he wondered whether he was enjoying his walk. With a pang, he thought how nice it would have been to have gone together if things had been different.

It was as though Mrs Wilcox was a mind reader, because as soon as they’d settled down to eat she said, “I assume things are still difficult between you and Patrick?”

“What?” Kyle froze, spoon halfway to his mouth as he stared at her in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Patrick mentioned it last night. He didn’t go into details; just said you’d fallen out. Is that why he’s not here today?”

“Yeah.” Kyle cast his gaze down as he ate his spoonful of soup, hoping she’d change the subject. He liked Mrs Wilcox, but he didn’t want to discuss this with her.

No such luck.

“Is he avoiding you?” She frowned.

Kyle snorted. “No. It’s the other way around. I told him I was coming here to walk Dex and made it clear he wasn’t welcome to join me.”

Mrs Wilcox shook her head. “You need to talk to him. That’s the only way to sort things out.”

“We talked last night. Well, I yelled at him. But he deserved it.”

“Did he apologise?”

“Yeah. But….” Kyle sighed heavily. “I wasn’t ready to hear it. Saying sorry doesn’t magically make the bad stuff go away. I needed time to cool off.”

“Have you had enough time now?”

Taking another spoonful of soup to give himself time to think, Kyle eventually said, “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Well. I don’t know what he did… and I’m not going to ask because that’s not my business.” Her expression was troubled. “But I do know what two people who care about each other look like. Patrick seems like a good man, and I’ve seen how you look at him. So if you want my opinion, you should think twice before throwing away a chance at something special.” The fervour in her tone made Kyle meet her eyes, and the conviction there only gave more strength to her words. “Not everyone finds that in life. You shouldn’t waste it.”

Remembering that she’d lost the person she’d had that with, Kyle swallowed down a lump in his throat. “Yeah, you might be right.” His voice came out a little husky. “Thanks for the advice.”

“It’s free.” Her serious expression melted into a grin. “Well, you can take it as payment for all the wood chopping. You were out there ages.”

“It’s good for the soul.” Kyle smiled back. “And a great way of working off anger.”

“So you’re ready to give him another chance?”

“I’m ready to listen to what else he has to say.”

“Well, that’s a start.” Seemingly satisfied, she carried on eating.

Kyle ate too, the warm feeling in his belly only partly down to the hot soup. Mrs Wilcox’s faith in both of them gave him hope that they could find a way through this and at least be friends, if nothing else.

After lunch, Kyle sent Mrs Wilcox to sit by the fire with a cup of tea while he did the washing up. Then he wiped down the kitchen surfaces, moving things to clean behind where it was a bit grimy in places. Still feeling restless and not in the mood for relaxation, he decided to dry the dishes and put them away but got sidetracked by her dusty cupboards. He ended up emptying the cupboards and started to give them a good clean.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Kyle jumped at the sound of Mrs Wilcox’s voice, banging his head on the inside of the low cupboard. Crawling backwards he said, “Cleaning. What does it look like?” Then standing to face her, he added sheepishly, “Sorry. I got a bit carried away.”

“So I can see.” Her lips twitched, and then she chuckled. “I don’t mind. Feel free. It’s hard for me to get to them these days, especially the low ones. My back doesn’t appreciate it.”

“I should have asked though.”

“Don’t worry. As long as you put everything away where you found it.”

“Are you sure? Because I thought it might make more sense to put your plates and bowls up here and move—”

“I like things where they are,” she said firmly.

“Okay.” Thwarted in his plans to reorganise, Kyle admitted defeat.

“But if you feel the urge to do more cleaning, the bathroom could do with a once-over, and the hallway needs sweeping.”

Kyle grinned. “Consider it done.”

By the time Kyle finished all his jobs, he was tired, and even his twenty-three-year-old back was aching. As he emptied the dustpan into the kitchen bin for the final time, he noticed the light outside the window was beginning to fade. A check of his phone showed him it was almost four o’clock.

Patrick should be back by now.

A frisson of anxiety rippled through him.

Kyle peered out of the window and saw that the sky was clear. At least there hadn’t been any more snow. But even if Patrick hadn’t got caught in a blizzard there were plenty of other things that could have gone wrong on a solo hike. He could have slipped and hurt an ankle, taken a wrong turning, been attacked by sheep—okay maybe not that.

He was probably fine. Patrick was an experienced hiker and he knew what he was doing. Chances were the walk had just taken a little longer than anticipated. Wanting reassurance, Kyle went to see Mrs Wilcox in the living room.

“Patrick’s a bit later than he said he’d be. Do you think we need to worry?”

“Does he have a map?”

“Yes. And he does a lot of hiking.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Just taking his time.”

“But it’s going to be dark soon.”

“Mmm.” She frowned. “Can you call him? See if he’s okay?”

“Not from here. But if I go up the road a bit I can get a signal. Maybe I’ll do that.”

Kyle quickly put on his outdoor layers and hurried up the lane. As soon as he had signal he called Patrick’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail.

“Damn it!” His anxiety spiked a little higher, a cold hand squeezing his heart. Suddenly their row the night before seemed less important; Kyle just wanted Patrick back safely. They would work the rest of it out somehow.

He turned and hurried back to the flat to look for the details Patrick said he’d leave, when he heard a voice behind him call, “Kyle! Is that you?”