Page 75 of A Siren Song for Christmas

This is over.

A sob rose in his throat, and he snapped his mouth shut, trying to stop it from escaping. He wiped at his tears as the reality of the situation settled over him.

This was over. They were over. Their friendship was done. He had to leave. And he couldn’t come back. He’d destroyed their friendship with his declaration of love and his desperate pleading.

Now he just had to leave.

But instead he stood, staring at the floor.

I don’t want to go. I don’t want this to be over.

He walked over to Kelby’s terrarium. He stared down at Kelby. She stared up at him.

“Bye, Kelby,” he whispered. “I’ll miss you.” Because he supposed he’d never see her again either. Trent took a deep, painful breath. His ribs squeezed.

Now he just had to say goodbye to Malachi. He wanted to flee. But if he didn’t look back, he wouldn’t get one last look at the siren.

Slowly, Trent turned.

Malachi’s face twisted with pain. He sucked in a breath, taking in Trent’s tear-stained cheeks. “Trent.” He stepped forward and reached out his hand. Then he seemed to think better of it and halted, dropping his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

But Trent didn’t want Malachi to be sorry. He wanted Malachi to love him.

“It’s not your fault. You told me. You were honest. I’m the one who fucked up. I just had to go and fall in love with you.” Trent let out a sniffly laugh. He wiped his wet cheeks.

He took in Malachi’s long naked limbs, his tentacles, and his pained expression. Trent wished his last memory of Malachi would be of him smiling. But that was just one more disappointment from this night. And honestly it was rather a minor one in comparison to the others.

“Bye, Malachi.” Then Trent turned and left.

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

Malachi stood, barely able to move as Trent’s footsteps pounded on the stairs below. A moment later he heard the front door to the emporium open and shut.

He is gone. Trent is gone.

Malachi stared blankly ahead. The room didn’t change an inch. The fire still burned brightly, casting its golden glow. Wreaths, ornaments, and garlands still hung. Paper stars of varying colours still decorated his room.

But with Trent’s departure, a darkness had descended.

After several minutes, Malachi forced himself to move. He pulled on a robe, went down into the emporium, and walked to the front door. He opened it and stepped out, bare feet sinking into the snow. The wind bit, cutting through the fabric of his robe and stealing all the warmth that remained in his body.

He looked down the street. There was no sign of Trent.

And even if he was still there, what would Malachi say?

Trent loved him.

Malachi couldn’t deal with that.

He closed his eyes. Trent—beautiful, vibrant, smiling Trent—should not love Malachi. Malachi didn’t deserve it. But thatdidn’t change the fact that Trent loved him and that Malachi had broken his heart. He let out a shaky breath.

Still, Malachi couldn’t change who he was and what he’d been through. He’d lost his mate. How could he recover and move on from that?

He re-entered the shop, closed the door, and locked it. Unsure what else to do, he walked around the emporium in a daze, footsteps heavy and slow.

He should eat. He should sleep.