CHAPTER 11
Abigail
Abigail jiggled her feet as Jasper climbed up the ladder. This was such a stupid idea. God, it was the worst idea she’d ever had. Why was she doing this?
Jasper’s head appeared through the trapdoor, and there was her answer. Because of him. Because he made her feel like no one else ever had before.
Because she was so close to having a happy Christmas, it hurt.
She watched Jasper carefully as he climbed up into the small attic room. This was about to go terribly wrong, she knew it. Her heart thudded in her throat.
Jasper’s ember-like eyes moved around the room. The walls were peeling, cheap old paint flaking off in strips. There was no insulation— she’d left her jacket on for a reason, and now her and Jasper’s breath mingled in white clouds.
No furniture. No carpet or wallpaper. Even the light coming in through the three small, round windows seemed muffled and flat.
Abigail bit her lip, wondering how long it would take Jasper to figure out where he was— and what his reaction would be.
“This is… nice,” he said diplomatically. Abigail bit back a nervous smile as he stepped carefully around the trapdoor and did up her jacket. “It’s…” She watched him hunt for something complimentary to say about the cold, bare attic. “Hang on. Where are we?”
“Above the shop.” Abigail rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.
“But there isn’t anything above the shop. It’s only two levels from the outside. The only thing above that is—” Jasper’s eyes widened. Abigail’s stomach fluttered as he darted to the nearest window. “Abigail, be honest with me… am I staring out at the square through Santa Claus’s stomach?”
“Yes!” Abigail covered her mouth. The word had come out far too excited. Because she was far too excited, about this little, stupid thing. Sneaking up to the shop attic like a couple of teenagers. It was idiotic. So why was her head spinning?
Because you want this to work. Because you think it’s going to work, and that’s the stupidest thing of all.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the nasty, vindictive voice, and bit her lip. When she looked up, Jasper was staring at her, an uncertain look in his eyes.
Jasper stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around the small attic slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. “This isn’t…” He stopped and rubbed his forehead, staring appealingly at Abigail. Then he sighed and gestured around the tiny room. “Is this how you see Christmas? Festive and fun on the outside, barren and cold inside?”
Abigail’s mouth fell open. She snapped it shut, wrapping her arms around her. “No,” she burst out. “No, I just— I wanted to—” She paused and swallowed hard, willing the sudden queasiness in her stomach away. When she spoke again, her voice was small. “I thought you would like it. That you’d think it was… fun.”
And see where that got you.
Jasper thought she’d planned this as some sort of jab at Christmas. At him. She couldn’t even bear to look at him, remembering the stricken look on his face as he looked around the attic. As he looked at her.
What must he think of her? What kind of monster did he think she was?
Her shoulders slumped.
“Abigail—”
She didn’t hear Jasper move, but suddenly his arms were around her, surrounding her with his warmth and strength. She took a deep, ragged breath, burying her face in his chest.
Jasper’s hand landed tentatively on her head, stroking her hair softly. His heart beat against her cheek.
“I think it’s wonderful,” he said softly. “I think you’re wonderful. Thank you for bringing me up here.”
“You’re thanking me for almost getting you decapitated, and then making you think I’m insulting you?”
Abigail squeezed her eyes shut. She kept them shut as Jasper slid one hand up to her chin and tipped her head back.
“My head is still where it’s meant to be, but that didn’t stop me being an idiot. Forgive me?” He kissed the tip of her nose, and then brushed his lips over her eyelids. Her nose twitched as his breath tickled it. “This is the sweetest, sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me,” he whispered, and kissed her.
Abigail melted into the kiss. She didn’t believe him— her idea was ridiculous and stupid and almost ended in disaster, not sweet or sexy. But if her stupid plan made him want to kiss her… well, she could live with that.
Jasper’s lips were soft and every moment they were pressed against hers, her body seemed to become softer, too: the knots in her shoulders dissolved, the tension in her forehead melted away, and even the aches and pains in her feet from running after customers all day faded away.
She ran her hands up Jasper’s chest, fingers pressing into his coat to feel the muscles beneath. A small moan of happiness escaped her lips.
Jasper’s arms tightened around her. His tongue flicked out between her lips and Abigail’s moan turned into a delighted gasp. She pressed against him, fingers tangling in his jacket, going up on tip-toes as their kiss became more passionate.
Jasper grabbed her around the waist and took advantage of her unstable position to tip her back, pushing her against the attic wall. Abigail nipped his lower lip, making him groan. They were pressed close enough together that she felt him go hard. She rolled his hips against him, excitement shivering inside her. How was it that this man she’d only met a few days ago could make her feel so good, at the worst time of the year?
She slid her hand up over his collarbone, worming her fingers in under his scarf to brush against his neck. Her fingertips scratched up against the stubble under his jaw and his pulse pounded against her touch, fast and urgent.
Jasper murmured something that she couldn’t hear, but she felt the reverberation through her fingers.
“Hmm?” she asked wordlessly, and he groaned in response. He stepped forward, one hand pressing against the wall as he—
“Ugh!” Abigail flinched forward as icy water cascaded down the back of her neck. It dripped down her back, like frigid fingers clawing at her skin. Shuddering, Abigail tried to wipe the water away, twisting her spine to stop the icy fingers reaching further. She overbalanced and her foot slipped.
Jasper’s arms were around her at once. He pulled her to him. Abigail hissed as he crushed her now-clammy tunic against her back.
“Ugh— What the hell? Where did that come from?”
Jasper let her go, but kept one hand on her waist. He held up the hand he had rested on the wall and shook it, sending droplets flying.
“The wall’s soaking wet,” he muttered. “Are you— look out!”
Abigail had turned around to look at the wall. As she moved her feet a floorboard groaned under her. Jasper swept her backwards, setting her down closer to the trapdoor.
Jasper knelt quickly and rapped on the floor. “We’re over a strut here, I think— it should be sturdier.”
“Thanks,” Abigail gasped. She stared at the floorboards. They looked fine— but they had felt, just for a moment, like they were collapsing under her. What the hell was going on?
Abigail wiped the back of her neck, trying to swipe away as much of the water as she could. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket down her back. But where had that much water come from?
She fumbled her phone out of her bag, wiping her hands dry on her jacket before she turned on the flashlight app. The harsh LED illuminated what the light filtering in from the square hadn’t shown.
The walls and ceiling of the attic space were glistening with water. What Abigail had thought was the stickiness of an unwashed floor was more water, soaking through the floorboards. “Hell,” she muttered.
“It looks worst in that corner.” Jasper pointed. He frowned, swearing under his breath. “I’d guess the roof’s been damaged—”
“—But no one’s noticed, because the Santa mannequin’s covering it up. Heat rises through the shop, melts the snow on the roof display… and it drips straight through.” Abigail bit the inside of her cheek. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. How long has it been like this?”
Jasper knelt down and reached one hand out to the floor. He gave a particularly dark patch an experimental thud. It sounded like a rotten squash. “Long enough for this wood to be spongy.”
“If we’d been standing half a foot farther left, we might have fallen through,” Abigail whispered. Her stomach went tight and cold.
“Abigail—” Jasper stood up carefully and put his arm around her waist. “I think we should go down now.”
He made her go down first. Abigail ran her hands along a few of the rungs as she hurried down. She’d thought the aluminum ladder was cold, when she was climbing it earlier— now she noticed the droplets of water. Not condensation. Melted snow.
She clenched her fists as she stepped off the ladder, and glanced up. Jasper was following her, but she couldn’t wait for him. She had to check the other rooms.
“Shit.”
By the time Jasper found her she was standing on the desk in Mr. Bell’s office, testing the ceiling. Plaster came away in damp clumps at her touch. She met his eyes.
“It’s not just the attic.” Abigail groaned as she clambered down from the desk. “The display must be too heavy for the roof. Maybe the tiles have cracked, or someone hammered nails into something they shouldn’t have, but… the whole ceiling’s soaking. How the hell did no one notice this?”
Guilt twisted inside her faster than she could push it back. You should have noticed something. You know Mr. Bell doesn’t pay attention to regulations. You have to look after yourself. You, you, you—
Abigail pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the voice to go away. “We should go outside,” she muttered. “I don’t feel safe here, knowing the roof’s holding that much water.”
She put her head down and hurried through the door, past Jasper. He put his hand on her lower back and kept pace with her as they descended the stairs to the ground floor. Abigail tried not to flinch. She knew he meant it as a comfort, but the discovery of the leaking roof had left her wound so tight she thought she might crack.
And it was Christmas Eve tomorrow. And if the roof was really bad, if Mr. Bell had to shut the shop…
She squeezed her eyes shut as she pushed through the external door into the alleyway. Cold air bit at her face. If the shop’s shut… what the hell am I meant to do tomorrow?
Jasper turned her around to face him. She tried to get her face under control— God knew all her time in retail meant she could do that, at least— but he must have sensed her distress. Concern flooded his ember-warm eyes.
“It’s not your fault, Abigail. You can’t be blamed for not noticing it until now— none of your colleagues did either, right? And if you’re worried about what your boss might say about you poking around after hours, hell, he must know it’s a good thing we found the leak. Better now than when the shop’s full of customers.”
Abigail shook her head. “I’m not worried about that. I—” She wrapped her arms around herself as the cold night air bit into her, and began to gnaw on the inside of her cheek again. Now that she’d had a few minutes to think, she wasn’t worried about Mr. Bell being angry at no one noticing the leak until now. The shop was so crazy this time of year, no one had time to breathe, let alone look up. And even if they had noticed any random drips, they probably would have assumed it was just customers tracking snowmelt into the store and flinging it around.
No. That wasn’t the problem.
She groaned, biting down on her cheek. “It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. I’m meant to work all day. But this…”
“Hey.” Jasper cupped her face in his hands. He tapped her cheek with his thumb until she stopped biting it. “So you might have a day off. Would it really be that bad?”
Yes. Abigail clenched her jaw shut before the word could get out.
Jasper was amazing, but tomorrow was Christmas Eve. He’d want to spend it with his family, not her. And she couldn’t wait around at home all day, with nothing to do. She couldn’t.
She took a deep breath. Best case scenario, the shop was fine. They would open in the morning as usual. Double shift, no time off. Maybe she could even put in some extra hours cleaning up the upper floor.
Worst case scenario…
“I need to call my boss,” she said stiffly, shoulders knotting. Jasper was holding her still, but his touch wasn’t relaxing her like it did before. Instead, she could feel herself prickling. And every time she thought about tomorrow, it got worse.
Jasper’s voice interrupted her crackling, unhappy thoughts. “Tell me what I can do.”
He stared deep into her eyes. There wasn’t any subterfuge in his gaze. He wasn’t fidgeting to leave, or hiding impatience at their make-out session being interrupted by a flooded roof-space.
Which made what Abigail had to say even harder. “I need you to leave.” She choked the words out.
Jasper moved his hands to her shoulders. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then he tightened his grip. A muscle in his jaw tensed. “I’m not going to leave you to deal with this by yourself.”
“Well, too bad. You have to.” An icy wind whistled down the alleyway. Abigail pulled away from Jasper, buttoning her jacket up higher around her neck. “This— this was a bad idea. All of it. And I can’t deal with you being here right now, on top of everything else. Please.”
Jasper reached out to her— and then closed his fist, and thrust both hands into his jacket pockets. Was it her imagination, or was he shaking?
He was cold. That must be it. They were both freezing out here, wet from the attic and chilled by the wind.
“You should go home,” she said. The words came out harsher than she meant, and she winced. She should be growling at herself, not him. She didn’t really want him to go. Or, since he had to, she wished he would go to her apartment, and be waiting for her when she got home.
She opened her mouth and her throat went dry. She couldn’t say it. Not now, not with everything else that was happening.
“You want me to go.” Jasper’s voice was hollow.
Abigail couldn’t speak. She nodded, her neck stiff and Jasper let out a sharp breath. For a moment, he looked as though he was about to say something else— then he shuddered and strode past her, stumbling slightly on the rubbish-strewn ground.
Abigail wished the ground would swallow her. She turned after Jasper as he marched away, like a flower turning hopelessly towards the sun. “Jasper, I—”
At the end of the alleyway, Jasper stumbled, steadied himself on the nearest wall— and didn’t look back. In the space between one heartbeat and another, he was gone.
She watched the space where he had been, ice forming around her heart. Her vision swam.
He left.
Her breath caught and suddenly she couldn’t hear anything but her pulse, pounding like a drum in her ears. She covered her face with her hands and forced herself to breath slowly.
She had to call Mr. Bell. That was the important thing, here. Call Mr. Bell, and hope like hell the shop would be open tomorrow.
That was the most important thing. Wasn’t it?