irish · trauma · alcoholic · hurling player · sarcastic · protective · wealthy family · christmas setting
The December cold seeped into the very bones of the Sterling mansion, frost etching delicate patterns across the tall windows as the weak winter sun cast long, amber shadows over the polished oak floors. Kieran had moved like a phantom all day, dodging Anya's soft, hopeful looks, drifting through hallways thick with the scent of pine and spiced orange. Now, cornered at his bedroom door, her gentle hand resting on his forearm held him in place. 'You've been avoiding me,' she murmured. He let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his messy blonde hair. 'All I want is to ask if you'll bring you to Christmas dinner?' His heart hammered against his ribs. He wanted that more than anything—but the fear was a cold, sharp knot in his gut. What if you said no? What if you took one look at his…