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The rooms felt warm and stuffy, and the garbage pail was starting to smell. He turned down the thermostat. If he was staying with Clark and Fleur (washe staying with Clark and Fleur?Really?Wasn’t it going to be a tad awkward after he accused Fleur of being a jewel smuggler?), he didn’t need to run up Uncle C.’s utility bills. He packed the things he would need for a couple of nights. If he decided not to retrieve his electric razor and other sundries from Quinn’s right away, he’d have to replace them.

He hadn’t yet made his mind up either way. The truth was, healreadymissed Quinn.

Why was it so hard for him to let go of the past? To just take Quinn for who he was. To enjoy this little reunion of sorts for as long as it lasted, and then…

But theand thenwas the problem.

Andy wasn’t built for love ’em and leave ’em. He was a collector, a curator, personally as well as professionally. He preserved memories, hung on to relationships—which was probably one reason he had stayed with Marcus long after he knew in his heart that they had reached their expiration date. And Quinn? Quinn had been the crown jewel of Andy’s emotional treasury.

So the idea of letting himself fall for Quinn again, knowing the risk…

In fairness, what were the risks? That Quinn would grow bored with civilian life? That Quinn would grow bored withhim? That one of the most meaningful relationships in Andy’s life was no more than a blip on Quinn’s radar?

If it was this hard to pull back now, how hard would it be if they spent the holidays together? If they spent a few weeks together? He was always going to want more. Months, years, a lifetime. Because he still loved Quinn.

Loved the boy Quinn had been and was falling in love with the man Quinn was now.

And he just couldn’t take that risk. Especially not now, when so much of what he’d built over the past sixteen years was crashing down around him.

But at the same time—a sign of Quinn’s continued bad influence?—he felt a flicker of rebellion at the notion that he needed time, had to play it safe. Sure, he was struggling to make sense of the shocking events of the past week. His emotions veered from shocked disbelief to anger to abject relief to terrorto triumph, excitement to longing and, well, maybe even occasionally a bit of lust. Yes, he was feeling all the things, but one thing in particular he was feeling wasalive.

In fact, he hadn’t realized how emotionally insulated he’d grown until the events of the last few days had shattered that protective shell. All starting with Marcus slamming his head into a wall.

Talk about a wake-up call.

The problem was, he was so used to smothering his feelings, hiding his true thoughts, that once all these complicated, confused emotions began bubbling up, it had taken him a while to recognize them.

For sixteen years, the thing he’d wanted most was to know that Quinn Rafferty was alive and okay. And now that he knew it, knew it and knew Quinn was even interested in exploring the possibility of some kind of future, his response was,Hey,Merry Christmas, see you around!

WTF?

If he hadn’t been afraid to try to make things work with Marcus, why in the world was he so afraid to see what might happen with Quinn? At least Quinn wasn’t a sociopath. In fact, Quinn had been there when Andy needed him most.

No, the answer was, he had never loved Marcus the way he’d loved Quinn. Would probably always love Quinn.

For a moment he stood in Uncle C.’s guest room, gazing down at the array of paint-flecked tin soldiers, forever on guard against a nonexistent enemy.

Maybe it was time to stop focusing on what he was fighting against and start thinking about what was worth fightingfor?

Andy carried his suitcase into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, removed the last sad slab of Mrs. Dubonnet’s dilly zucchini casserole, and dumped it in the trash. He tied shut thetrash bag, washed the dish, and carried the dish, the trash, and his suitcase outside.

As he started down the stairs, Mrs. Dubonnet appeared at the bottom, bundled up in a furry white parka like a small “Eskimo.”

She jumped at the sight of him, but then relief flooded her face. “Andy! You frightened me. I didn’t know you were back.”

“I’m not. I’m going to spend Christmas with Clark and Fleur.”

Her expression fell. “Oh.”

He handed her the freshly washed dish. “Thanks so much for the casserole. That was a lifesaver.”

She brightened. “There’s nothing like a home-cooked meal when you’re feeling blue.”

Andy shared the good news that Uncle C. had regained consciousness, and they continued to chat for a few minutes. He was uneasy about the upcoming confrontation with Fleur. If he was wrong, things were going to go from awkward to untenable, fast. Even so, he couldn’t help noticing that the normally cheery Mrs. Dubonnet didn’t seem quite herself.

She said briskly, finally, “Look at me keeping you here gabbing when you want to be on your way. I’m so glad you’ve patched things up with Clark. No one should be alone on Christmas Eve.”

Oh hell.For the first time in twenty years, good-hearted and loyal Mrs. Dubonnet would be completely alone on Christmas. Even Uncle C. would not be around for their traditional eggnog brunch.