Chloe paced around the waiting room.

She felt restless. Agitated. Like she had consumed twenty cups of coffee, which — come to think of it — she probably had. They had only been at the hospital for an hour, but Chloe had made a significant dent in the coffee dispenser. It was almost impressive.

Across the room, Rowan raised her head.

"You should sit, Chloe," she murmured. "Rest for a bit."

"I'm fine."

"She's right, you know," Logan chimed in. "You're driving us all mad."

Chloe glared at him. "I'm still not speaking to you."

"You just did."

Chloe's fingers twitched. She could strangle him. In fact, there was no better place to do it — dozens of doctors were right next door.

Nevertheless, Chloe threw herself into an empty seat, crossing her arms. The hospital television was blaring a Christmas baking show. One of the contestants was constructing an elaborate snowman cake with a levitating hat. Laura and Richard were both watching it blankly, their eyes more glazed over than the cake.

Rowan took her hand.

"He'll be fine," she said quietly.

"I just can't believe..." Chloe swallowed hard. "I gave him that cookie, Row. It's my fault that he's in here."

"You didn't know."

"Still."

Rowan squeezed her hand. Chloe rested her head on her shoulder, staring at a piece of limp tinsel. It was almost the same golden yellow as the one Logan — no, Jack — had accidentally set on fire in the Alps.

God, she was an idiot.

How had she not known?

Chloe swallowed. It was so obvious in retrospect; Jack's shocking performance on University Challenge, Logan's terrible skiing, their sudden changes in personality...

She had always prided herself on her ability to tell them apart. And, okay, they had switched their eyebrows, but so what? She should have known.

For god's sake, she had kissed Jack. Three times.

And worse, she had liked it.

Chloe curled her fingers around the armrest. What was wrong with her? Jack was her mate. Her best mate, more to the point. He was strictly off limits. She couldn't risk torching their friendship like that. Not for anything.

But she also couldn't forget kissing him.

Or what Jack's warm hands felt like on her back. Or the way he murmured her name. Or a whole host of other rather inappropriate thoughts that Chloe really shouldn't be having in front of his parents.

She swallowed hard.

What the hell was she going to do?

"Winters?" A nurse stuck her head into the room. "Family of Jack Winters?"

Laura shot to her feet. Her elegant chignon was coming loose, and blonde hair curled around her face. A cup of coffee was clutched in her hand.

"Yes?"

"He's awake," the nurse said.

"Oh, thank god," Laura murmured. "Here, darling." She shoved the coffee into her husband's hands. "Can you hold this?"

"Wait!"

Logan hopped to his feet. His mother turned to stare at him.

"What?"

"Chloe should go first," Logan said.

"Chloe?" Laura blinked dazedly, as if she had forgotten that other people were even in the waiting room. "But I..."

"It's okay," Chloe said quickly. "I don't mind waiting."

She did, actually. She was practically itching to see Jack. But Laura should obviously take priority, considering she gave birth to the boy.

Logan, however, stood his ground.

"No offense, Mum," Logan said, "but Jack won't want to see you." He winked at Chloe. "At least, not until he sees someone else."

Richard cleared his throat. "He's right, love."

Laura hesitated. Then she sighed, taking her coffee back. "You go on, Chloe, darling." She sunk into her chair. "Let us know when you're done."

"Are you sure?"

Laura smiled. "Absolutely."

Chloe squeezed Rowan's hand. Then she trailed the nurse down the corridor, stopping at the heart of a white labyrinth of rooms. She sucked in a breath. Jack was propped up in bed, an IV tube snaking from his hand to a bag of fluid. He smiled sheepishly.

"Medicine," he explained. "To take down the swelling."

"I'm so sorry," she blurted.

"For what?"

Chloe stared at him. "For the cookie."

Obviously. God, he was an idiot, sometimes.

She heard the click of the door. The nurse must have left them alone. Which was a mistake, really, considering that the last time they were alone, Chloe had handed him a present designed to murder him.

"Come here," Jack murmured.

She drifted closer to his bedside. To her surprise, Jack tugged Chloe on to the bed, and she sat, careful to avoid the mess of tubes.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like shit." He gave her the ghost of a smile. "And you?"

"I'm still mad at you," she whispered.

"I know."

"I don't know how to be around you." She swallowed, staring hard at the white wall. "Every time I look at you, I think..."

"What?"

Chloe nibbled her lip. That she wanted to hit Jack until he begged her to stop. That she wanted to kiss Jack until he begged her to stop. Both, most of the time.

But did Jack feel the same?

She didn't know. Jack certainly hadn't responded well to Chloe repeatedly trying to jump him, so all signs pointed to "no." Maybe he only kissed her because of the stupid article. Maybe he didn't have any feelings for her at all.

He probably didn't.

Anyways, it wasn't worth risking their friendship. Chloe kissed Jack when she thought it was Logan, after all. She had no idea it was Jack.

Chloe sighed. "I need some time away from you. Not forever," she added quickly, seeing his alarmed expression, "but a few days, at least. Just to get my head straight before the Christmas party."

"But you'll come back?"

"Yes."

And she would.

She just needed some time to switch her feelings off, first.

Jack quickly realized that almost dying didn't exempt him from chores — particularly where Laura Winters was concerned.

"Not like that," she snapped. "You'll singe it, Jack!"

He sighed, raising his iron. The burgundy cloth napkin on the washboard was smoking slightly, to be fair to his mother. It was hardly on fire though. She didn't need to be so dramatic. This wasn't Shakespeare.

"Can't we just send them to a cleaners?" he asked hopefully.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because this builds character, Jack, lovey." His mother's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Or should I say, Logan."

Jack flinched. Oh, dear. Laura Winters had not taken kindly to the fact that her twin sons had pulled the wool over her eyes; so far, Jack had been forced to do all of the Christmas wrapping, write the band an apology note for wasting their time, and even race around London in a desperate attempt to find sweet apple chutney for the turkey.

And Jack suspected his punishment was far from over.

As if on cue, Logan staggered into the flat, weighed down by several large boxes of ornaments and a small faux pine tree. His face was flushed a blotchy red.

"Since when did the decorators stop delivering?" he demanded.

"Oh, they haven't," Laura said airily. "I just asked them not to."

"You what?"

"Don't try me, Logan Winters," she snapped. "You're lucky I didn't make you scrub the entire house clean with a toothbrush."

"Yes, Mum," he said meekly.

Jack shot him a look, and Logan rolled his eyes. He turned back to his burgundy napkins. God, there were a lot of them. One hundred? More? How many guests had his mother invited to their annual Christmas party this year?

He looked down at a napkin morosely.

Jack didn't care how many people would be there. In fact, he only cared that one person was there in particular.

"Have the Cartwrights RSVP'd?" Jack asked casually.

Or maybe not-so-casually, judging by the look on his mother's face.

"Chloe hasn't let me know yet."

"I wasn't only asking about Chloe," Jack said, exasperated.

His mother gave him a long look. "Don't you think we've had enough lies around here lately, darling?"

Jack felt his ears warm. His mother whisked from the room, snatching the faux tree from the top of Logan's stack. His brother set down the boxes, panting slightly.

"How's Chloe?" he asked.

Jack pressed down the iron. "Not speaking to me. How's Kate?"

"Ditto."

The boys stared glumly at the pile of napkins.

"Reckon they'll come round?" Logan asked hopefully.

"Probably not."

"What if we bribe them with chocolate?"

"Definitely not," Jack sighed. "They'll see straight through it."

"Flowers, then?"

Jack gave him a withering look. Honestly. Logan could be denser than their Nan's Christmas fruit cake sometimes, and that thing had the texture of a brick.

Chloe wouldn't be bribed with random trinkets. He was sure of it. No, Jack needed something better. More heartfelt. Something like—

He froze.

The bracelet.

"Can you finish this?" he asked Logan. "I just remembered I have something to do."

Logan snorted. "Like what? Cut open frogs?"

"I don't cut open frogs," Jack said, exasperated. "I told you, Logan, I'm working on a very delicate ecological model, the ramifications of which will change the course of—" He broke off, seeing his brother's eyes glaze over. Oh, screw it. "Look, you owe me still, remember?"

"Do I?"

Jack set down the iron. "Considering you ruined my academic career and may have cost me the love of my life? Yes, I'd say so."

Logan deflated.

"Fine," he growled. "I'll do it." He picked up the iron. "But if I burn any of the napkins, I'm telling Mum it was you."