ChristmasInHisHeart (12 page)

Encouraged that he was able to redirect Dermot’s attention, Xander decided to kick it up a notch.

“You know…” Without a worry in the world about onlookers, all Xander wanted was to bring some happy to what was quickly becoming the most important face in his life. So he started singing. “It might sound crazy but it ain’t no lie, baby, bye bye bye…” To go with his pitchy vocals, he continued the dance moves, punching his fist in the air three times before hopping to face the other way.

“Please stop that.”

Dermot’s plea for an ending to Xander’s impromptu show was softened with a slight smirk and low chuckle.

Shawna screamed from the other room, and without thinking, the two of them ran to her. The generator smoked and sparks flew from it. The Christmas bulbs were still flickering, but for some reason the breaks in between them lighting seemed more ominous now than it did mere minutes ago.

“Okay, party’s over, everyone out,” Xander yelled over the multitude of fierce whispering. “Sprocket, get away from the generator. Head on outside with everyone else.”

Smoke billowed through the room as if it decided to follow them outside. Dermot seemed unnaturally quiet as he kept a death grip on Xander’s hand. Not missing a step, Xander leaned over and pecked him on his cheek.

A soft meow came from that blasted corridor right before soft sirens gained in volume. Good, someone had the right frame of mind to call for help. It may be a small thing that the firemen would probably state they didn’t need their help with, but better to err on the side of caution.

Dermot, Shawna, and Xander were the last ones in the building. They wanted to make sure everyone else was out before they exited. The three of them headed to the open front door when another meow echoed through the corridor, this one more piercing and frantic.

Xander stopped, not crossing the threshold and joining the others in the safety of the outdoors. Slinky was stuck somewhere in this place, and if someone didn’t get her soon, she’d die of smoke inhalation. Her little lungs wouldn’t stand a chance.

Dermot loved that stupid cat. A part of him would die if anything happened to her.

Xander glanced back through the archway where the smoke billowed out. It would take him maybe a minute or two to find Slinky and get outside. He doubted the firemen would allow anyone to re-enter the building once they got there, especially not for an alley cat.

Making up his mind, he disengaged his hand from Dermot’s tight grip. “I’ll be right out.”

Without waiting for a reply, Xander turned left and quickly ran down the hall, staying in a crouch and calling the cat’s name, wondering if the cat even knew her name.

Just like he suspected, within a few moments the cat was not happily held in his arms. Thank god she wasn’t using her claws, though. He turned and made his way back from where he came. He saw the open front door at the end of the hallway, not too far away.

Outside the wind howled as if beckoning him to hurry. He planned to obey that command when a loud ear shattering boom drove him deaf and the walls rattled.

Falling to his knees from the shock, he managed to keep hold of a terrified Slinky…cringing when the claws finally came out.

Chapter Twelve

One minute he was there, a comforting, strong, grounding presence at Dermot’s side, then he was gone. Just like that. Gone.

And Dermot was alone, just as he’d always been. Only this time, he was alone in a crowd of loud voices and clouds of acrid smoke and obnoxious sirens. Alone with his panic and agony.

“Xander?” he asked a soot-faced Shawna who just shook her head. “He was right here.”

“I haven’t seen him since we got out here.” She bit her lip and hovered. “I’m… This isn’t easy to say, and I’ve wanted to say it all week. I told him you weren’t worth pursuing, that you weren’t the man for him.”

That startled his attention away from the thick plumes of black smoke choking the air, choking him with memories. “You did what?” He couldn’t believe it. He and Shawna had been neighbors…work wise at least, for years. “Why the hell would you do that?”

She shrugged and nibbled her thumbnail. “I knew you. You’re not a happy person and he is. I’m not a real believer in the whole opposites attract theory being a foundation on which to build your life. But that’s not the point.” Her eyes widened over his shoulder.

Dermot turned to see what had frightened her, wondering with a pang to his heart if maybe Xander had been carted out of the building by firefighters or something. Instead, all he saw was a mountain of a man in yellow fireproof, approaching at break-neck speed, a dark scowl on his bearded face. All the man’s malignant energy seemed focused on Shawna, to Dermot’s relief. He stepped away, distancing himself a bit, but she grabbed his arm.

“Wait. I can see why you’d want to run, but…I want you to know that I was wrong. I’m glad for once that Xander didn’t listen to me.” She glanced over his shoulder again and squeaked, face paling. “I don’t suppose you’d like to do me a favor…”

He stared at her blankly.

“Never mind. I… See you later.” She tore off through the crowd just as the Neanderthal bellowed behind them, so close his voice made Dermot’s skin crawl.

“Shawnawhatthefuck!” The man mountain pushed past Dermot without apology and barreled into the crown in pursuit of his quarry.

With Shawna gone, Dermot’s mind went automatically back to Xander and searching for him in the crowd. At the back of his mind was the thought that this wasn’t so bad.

It wasn’t his first experience of fire since his brother’s death, of course. He’d been to bonfires and barbecues, seen plenty of fire pits and even cooked on open flame at a Renaissance festival one summer. The smoke was awful, and the noise was bad…but no one seemed hurt, and if he could only find Xander, he could probably go home, curl up in bed with the man, and sleep the sleep of the innocent.

He skimmed the crowd again, spotting the strange, pierced, tattooed store clerk from Craft Time who went by the unlikely name of Sprocket. “Hey!” Dermot called out, waving frantically to get the man’s attention. Sprocket glanced back over his shoulder but his attention was immediately reclaimed by… What the hell?

“Chaz?” Irritated that Chaz had apparently abandoned the restaurant to rubberneck at the fire, Dermot headed in their direction. “Chaz!”

“Yes, boss?” The blue-eyed man turned to him, and Dermot’s gaze fell to where his hand was clasped tightly with Sprockets, before rising to his sous chef’s face again.

“You left the restaurant?” He couldn't believe it, but even as he asked, his attention was wandering again, searching the faces of the men around them, looking for a man who stood a head over everyone else…

“They made me.” Chaz gestured to the fire safety personnel. “Said something about precautions and evacuating area businesses.”

Oh, yeah… “Makes sense. Either of you seen Xander out here? He was right with me then…”

Sprocket scowled. “He was with you and Shawna…”

“I know that…but when I got to the greenbelt, he was gone.”

“You don’t think?”

“What?” Dermot’s anxiety rose. Xander had to be safe, didn’t he? The fire was minor, mostly smoke. The fact remained though, that the last time he’d
seen
Xander, they’d been on the other side of that screen of smoke and heat. Beads of sweat, icy cold and stinging his conscience broke out on his upper lip. He didn't waste time excusing himself, just took off at a dead run for the building, screaming Xander’s name in between curses.

“Xander! You son of a bitch! Xander! God damn you! Where the fuck!” A burly man jumped between Dermot and the building, holding him back.

“Stay back, sir. The structure isn’t stable.”

Dermot pushed the arm away and rose on tiptoe to see over the man’s shoulder. “Xander didn’t come out. He was right behind me, but I can’t find him now.”

“Someone’s in the building still?” The man kept his grip on Dermot’s shoulder and reached for his radio with his other hand. “Charlie? We got a problem… Seems there might be someone left in the building after all.”

The words hammered Dermot, accusing.
You left him in there to die. What the fuck is wrong with you? You are poison to the people you love…

The explosion rocked them, knocking them both to their knees. When the rumbling walls settled and a deafening silence surrounded them…Dermot blinked and stared.

The perfect arched brickwork doorway to the structure still stood, and poised in that opening, smudged head to toe in soot and ash, surrounded by the debris of the collapse, stood the man he’d spent the last ten minutes searching frantically for.

“Xander.” Whether he couldn't hear himself or his voice truly made no sound, he couldn't say. “Xander!” he yelled loudly, and the noble head turned, a joyful smile lit the man’s face beneath the debris, and Dermot’s heart began to beat again. Every beat was a horribly painful throb, driving agony through his being, but it was all proof wasn’t it, that he was alive?

He took a pained step forward, and the fireman let him this time. Xander came toward him, swift strides eating up the space between them. The man was grace all over, surefooted in the rubble and deft at sidestepping the people around them.

Dermot was off balance, so afraid that he was going to stumble and fall, that it was all some crazy delusion, that he came to a halt and just stared as Xander moved closer and closer. He stood there, waiting, drinking in the sight of Xander, his smile, his eyes…the way he just glowed with life and happiness and realized that Shawna was right. He wasn’t the man for Xander.

And loving the man as he did, that made it a hell of a thing to realize. He was going to tell him tonight, but now…

“Dermot!” The man himself stepped into Dermot’s space. “I saved her! Here.”

Dermot blinked, confused by Xander’s words as much as the heat his presence generated and the myriad emotions he’d been battling. “What?” He reached out to blindly accept what Xander was shoving at him, realizing only as sharp claws dug into his arms that he’d been handed an armful of angry cat. He glanced down in surprise. “Slinky?”

Xander wrapped an arm around Dermot’s shoulders and leaned into him. “Yeah. I saw her head off down a hallway, and I figured she’d have a harder time breathing in there than we would. I followed her. I know how much you love that cat.”

“You went back for the cat?”

Xander scratched the cat under the chin. “She was so scared, weren’t you, pretty?”

From the confusing welter of emotions battling for eminence in Dermot’s psyche there emerged a victor, ready to spew itself into the void and take command of Dermot’s shattered heart and soul. “You went back for the cat.” He’d been out here, scared witless, searching the crowd while Xander, the idiot, was retrieving an alley cat from a burning building?

“I heard her purring.” Xander smiled charmingly at him.

For once that smile and the charm did nothing for Dermot. “You went into a burning building to get the cat.”

“I just said so, didn’t I?” Xander’s gaze roamed the crowd. “Have you seen Shawna and the others?”

Dermot seized on the words with a vengeance. “Oh yes, I saw your friend. She very kindly informed me that she thought you and I would be a horrible couple, because the fact is that opposites might attract but they don't stay together forever.”

“She said what?” Xander’s voice sharpened and his gaze narrowed. “She had no right to say that to you. When I see her again, I’ll give her a piece of my mind!”

Deliberately cold, Dermot shook his head. “Don’t bother. From what I’ve seen tonight, you can’t really spare any, and you know what?”

Xander’s mouth gaped as he comprehended Dermot’s juvenile insult. “Huh? Did you just…”

“What kind of idiot goes into a burning building after an alley cat?” Dermot’s stomach was tight and sore, his head pounding from the smoke and tension. “Especially… You
know
how I feel about fire and why, Xander. That’s what I don’t understand. Somehow, knowing that I’d lost my brother to a holiday house fire, you still thought it would be a good idea to run back into a burning building, one you’d never been in before.” He caught his breath, realizing that he’d been shouting. Xander stared at him, white-faced and open-mouthed. “Here.” He shoved the cat back at Xander who took her automatically. “Since she’s so important to you, you can keep her.”

It wasn’t fair, and he was the one acting like an idiot. He knew that, even as rage made his vision red and his heart pound. He reveled in the horrified look on Xander’s face, and even though the sane part of him knew that he’d inflicted as much pain on himself as he had on Xander, that he’d probably have a million regrets for the words he was saying and the delicate blooming thing between them he was ruthlessly killing, he didn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop the lies and the bitter words from escaping his mouth and burying themselves in their target.

“Your friend was right. I’m not the man for you, and you sure as hell aren’t the man for me.” He spun on his heel, head held high and breath steaming the air in front of him and stalked away. The greenbelt was a few hundred feet from the alley, and all he had to do was make it down the alley to the back door of the restaurant. He hoped that Xander wouldn’t follow, that the man would remain true to his words of the other day, when he told Dermot that he wasn’t running after any man.

Because rage had burnt itself out in that appalling scene, pride was keeping his spine straight now, and self-protective logic told him he’d done the right thing, but hurt and love and loneliness were staking their claim on his heart, and if he had to look at Xander right now, he’d burst into tears and beg for the security of the man’s embrace.

Chapter Thirteen

Xander yanked his underwear drawer open and grabbed two handfuls. “You overstepped every fucking best friend boundary ever created,” he growled at Shawna as he turned and threw the assortment of boxers and bikinis into his smaller suitcase. His cartoonish boxers with Rudolph begging Santa to whip him harder landed on top of the pile. He hooked his finger in the waistband and held them up, sighing sadly. “Guess I can wear these again, ain’t got a boyfriend to tell me no to holiday-themed clothes.”