Page 28 of Noel Secrets

Neither of them smiled, only stared at each other. Something between them had changed that day. Is this what a life-or-death situation did to people? All she wanted to do was let him hold her again.

The shocking thought caused her to step away, putting space between them.

Then Simon appeared at her side.

“Jayda,” he said as the family began to disperse. “Train’s leaving soon. Want me to walk you back to the station?”

Jayda hesitated. She didn’t dare look at Michael. She couldn’t bear the weight of his eyes on her, not after what had just passed between them.

So she turned to Simon and slid her hand through his looped arm. “Yes,” she said. “I’d like that very much.”

They made their way to the exit while Christmas music followed them out, bright and merry, but it felt like a mockery to how she was feeling—like a traitor.

Michael had never been good at pretending, and he wasn’t about to pretend everything between him and Jayda hadn’t changed today.

For years, their relationship had been built on teasing that went too far. A constant competition to prove who could stand taller in the house his parents had made for both of them. He’d always told himself it was sibling rivalry, nothing more.

But they weren’t siblings. Not really.

And the way his chest had nearly torn apart watching her walk out of the lodge with Simon—this feeling had nothing to do with sibling anything.

The night air bit against his skin as they moved in a cheerful little herd. Ginny linked arms with Ed, the twins skipping ahead, their laughter rising above the jingle of bells from a street performer. Lights sparkled from every lamppost. Holiday music drifted from shop doors as crowds hurried home with packages.

Michael tried to fix his eyes on the normalcy of it all. Pretend the world hadn’t tilted on its axis tonight. Pretend men weren’t hunting them, that Jayda hadn’t nearly been killed in his arms. Pretend his heart wasn’t battering itself against his ribs.

“Michael.”

His mother’s voice cut gently into his thoughts. Ginny had slowed, letting the others walk ahead. She slipped her gloved hand through his arm, her head tilting toward him.

“You’ve been quiet tonight.”

He forced a shrug. “Long day.”

She studied him with her all-knowing mother’s gaze, the kind that never missed a beat. “You and Jayda…something feels different.”

Michael’s heart stuttered. He kept his eyes straight ahead, on the glowing arch of the station entrance. “Different how?”

“I don’t know.” Ginny’s tone was sweet, almost teasing, but edged with intuition. “For years it was bickering, like cats and dogs. Now, tonight, I saw something else. Something friendlier.”

He swallowed hard. He couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t tell her they had been running from men with knives, couldn’t tell her that his pulse had nearly stopped when he thought Jayda might be dead. Couldn’t tell her the truth—that he didn’t know where the line between him and his old foster sister had been moved or maybe even erased.

“Don’t read too much into it,” he managed. “Jayda and I…we’ve both grown up. That’s all.”

Ginny gave him a knowing smile, but she didn’t press. She never did when he wasn’t ready. Instead, she patted his arm and said, “It does a mother’s heart well to see her children getting along.” Then she hurried forward to catch up with the twins, who were already darting up the marble steps of Union Station.

Michael exhaled with relief while keeping a lookout for any unwanted passengers. The train was warm with no sign of themen. Michael kept close behind his family as they found their seats. The twins immediately began whispering about Santa finding them even on a train. Ginny spread a blanket across their laps. Ed disappeared in search of coffee.

But Jayda wasn’t with them.

Michael scanned the next car, his pulse already climbing. He spotted her at last—sitting in the dining car with Simon.

They leaned close across the table, their heads nearly touching. Jayda’s hands were folded in front of her, her expression guarded, but her attention fixed on Simon. And Simon looked every bit the confident, smooth-talking man Michael had always distrusted.

Michael crossed over to the next train before he could stop himself. His boots thudded against the floor, his breath tight in his chest.

As soon as he reached them, Jayda and Simon fell quiet.

Simon leaned back in his seat, his mouth tugging in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Relax, Mike. Jayda’s filled me in on what went down.”