Page 83 of A Siren Song for Christmas

Malachi nodded. But he wanted to open his mouth and cry out. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout to the skies.

Of course, he should want Trent to move on. But the idea of never seeing Trent again hurt so much that he couldn’t move. He placed a hand on his throat, feeling the muscles spasm beneath. His vocal cords tingled.

Grady stared at him, as if expecting some response.

Finally, Malachi pulled himself together to speak. “He really is wonderful.”

“I know.”

“And I’m sure he’ll find someone who will love him as he deserves.” Malachi dropped his gaze to the counter. He pressed his webbed fingers against the dark wood. “He is lovely inside and out. And our time together…” He trailed off as the images of what he’d never have again washed over him.

“Your time together?” Grady prompted.

“He is a delight.” Malachi closed his eyes, feeling the ache and joy of each and every memory. “Just sitting and eating, making Christmas decorations by the fire, or talking by the lake, he lightens all spaces even on the darkest winter nights. And in bed—” He cut himself off and opened his eyes. No doubt that would not be appropriate to talk about with Trent’s older brother.

“He makes everything better. He made my life better. I am glad to have known him, even if only briefly. I will miss him greatly.” Malachi forced himself to say the next bit. “I’m sure he will meet someone and they will make Trent as happy as he deserves.”

Grady’s eyes narrowed. He looked away. “Cauldrons and clusterfucks!”

“What?”

“I really want to be fucking pissed at you. I want to hate you. You broke my baby brother’s heart!”

Malachi flinched.

Grady exhaled. “Can I ask, what is the difference between friends who are fucking and people who are in love?”

Malachi blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Just then, when you were talking about Trent, you lit up like a fucking Christmas tree!” Grady snapped. “What you described to me sounds a fuckton like love. So here I am, and I’m trying to understand what makes that not love.”

Malachi’s mouth moved. But no words formed. His swollen throat clenched.

“You clearly care about him. You clearly miss him. And look at you.” Grady gestured to Malachi.

“What about how I look?” Malachi stammered.

“You’re miserable. You look heartbroken. Like him. So tell me why isn’t this thing with Trent love?”

“It’s…different,” Malachi said, dumbfounded.

“How? How is it different?” Grady leaned towards him.

“It just is.” Malachi’s mind scrambled. He thought of Forathia. Of hearing his song for the first time. That instant shock of bone-deep love.

Then he thought of Trent. Of his shy smiles. His blushes. The sweet, soft kisses in the aftermath of their sated desires. Their whispered voices as they’d opened up to each other, cocooned beneath the blankets. The gentle stroking of hands and tentacles over skin. The lovemaking. The affection that had been slowly building inside Malachi.

And the wrenching loss of having that all gone in an instant.

“I don’t know,” Malachi rasped.

But there was something different. Wasn’t there?

“Well.” Grady huffed, clearly exasperated. “As long as you know what it is.” He stared at Malachi for several seconds.

Malachi said nothing. He could not think of anything to say. How could he when his mind whirled?

Grady shook his head. “Well, have a good day, Malachi. I hope you know what you’re doing.”