He caught it easily, grinning wider. “You know, for a guy who claims he doesn’t believe in holiday miracles, you sure are acting like you’re waiting for one.”
I groaned. “Can we not?”
“Nope,” he said, pouring himself a coffee. “We absolutely can.”
He leaned across the bar, lowering his voice in that infuriatingly big-brother way. “So, what’s really going on, huh? You and Mel kiss, she freaks out, you walk away like a martyr, and now you’re both playing the world’s saddest staring contest?”
“Something like that,” I said.
He whistled low. “Yikes.”
“Helpful.”
“I try.”
I slumped onto the stool near the register, running my hands through my hair. “She’s scared, Cal. Of me. Of this. Of… all of it.”
“And that surprises you?”
“I just—” I exhaled, shaking my head. “I thought maybe… I don’t know. That it meant something.”
“It probably did,” he said. “But since when has meaning ever made things easy?”
“Spare me the wisdom, Confucius.”
He grinned. “What can I say? Fatherhood’s making me philosophical.”
“God help us all,” I muttered.
He laughed, topping off my mug. “You know, for someone who swears he doesn’t do feelings, you’re doing a bang-up job of wallowing in them.”
“I’m not wallowing,” I said.
He raised a brow. “You’re literally sitting at our bar sighing into your coffee like a Dickens orphan.”
I glared at him. “You done?”
“Almost,” he said. “But seriously, Drew, you care. That’s not a weakness.”
I stared into my cup, the steam curling up like smoke. “It feels like one.”
“That’s because you’ve spent half your life convincing yourself that the only safe way to care is to keep it casual,” he said, softer now. “But the thing about love, little brother, is it doesn’t give a damn about your rules.”
I didn’t answer.
Because what was there to say? He wasn’t wrong.
Outside, laughter from the festival drifted through the half-open door, along with the faint sound of sleigh bells and someone singing off-key.
“You ever notice,” Callum said after a beat, “that this town gets louder every December?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Like the Christmas plague.”
He chuckled. “You’ve been spending too much time with Mel. She’s rubbing off on you.”
“Maybe,” I said, a reluctant smile tugging at my mouth.
He eyed me for a second, then grinned. “Hey, at least she’s got taste.”
