by Maisey Yates
“Obviously not. She was your wife.”
“That isn’t what I mean. What I mean is that she wasn’t the woman who would leave her husband and child when I married her. She became that woman, and I never saw that change coming. She became the woman who didn’t want me to touch her anymore. The woman who didn’t even like to look at me, or at her own child. When I married her, she was beautiful, and happy, and she liked being my wife.”
“What happened with her . . . it doesn’t mean it would happen with me.”
“There are no guarantees in life, and at this point? With Kayla? I need a guarantee.”
She swallowed hard, her heart aching, her throat burning. “I . . . I wish I had a guarantee before I’d told you I loved you, Walker, but the thing of it is that me loving you was more important than your response. The chance that we could have something? It’s so much bigger than the pain I’m feeling right now. It was worth it. It’s still worth it. And if you don’t feel that way about me, then maybe I am better off.”
He stood up, pacing the room, naked, unconcerned.
“You are, Sarah,” he said, every word hitting like a bullet. “Because you want everything, and I’m not willing to give it. You know what I said I wanted. I got it. And for longer than I imagined I might. That’s it. We’re done.”
“Yeah,” she said, anger building in her. “I remember, Walker. You just wanted a fuck.” He drew back like she’d slapped him. “But you know what? You never made me feel that way. You never made me feel like you were using me. Not really. Until now. Until you reverted back to the man you were a few weeks ago, a man I know you’re better than. Until you ran and hid like a coward. You’re so afraid of the past you haven’t dealt with the fact that you have a future. Kayla has a future. And you can have more than this half-life. More than no Christmas tree because you can’t deal with your issues.”
“Listen to you, little girl. You hadn’t had so much as a kiss before I came into your life and you think you can tell me what I should want? What I should do? Everything you know about sex, I taught you. And that’s what you seem to think love is.”
“To quote you, Walker? Bull. Shit. I might have learned about sex from you, but I already knew what love was. I knew it because I didn’t have it. I felt the hole in me where it should have been. Where someone should have loved me. Where I should have loved them. And it’s gone now. Because you filled it. Because I love you. I love Kayla. And I don’t need you to teach me how to do that. I just need you to calm the eff down and let me love you.”
“Sarah—”
“Stop looking at me like that. Like you feel sorry for me. Like you’re so superior because you know things I don’t. You’ve been through stuff, I’m sorry about that. My mother left me with an old woman that never saw me as anything but a living, breathing cautionary tale against fast living, and she made sure I knew it. I know what it’s like to feel like no one wants you. I know what the hard parts of life look like. What they feel like. Sex isn’t the be-all and end-all for life experience. My life didn’t start the night you broke my hymen.”
“I never said that.”
“But it’s what you think! Like I’m Virgin Barbie and you just took me out of my box, all new and unplayed with.”
“You make it sound like I’m being dismissive.”
“You are! You think because I was a virgin, I don’t know my own emotions. You think it’s why I fell in love with you. And you know what? That’s what I was afraid of too. Then I realized that if I didn’t let myself love you just because you were my first then I was being dismissive of myself. I had a list, Walker. Of things I would do. Of the woman I would be. And nowhere on that list did it say ‘marry that dumb angry rancher you picked up in a bar.’ But it’s what I want. And I’m not too afraid to say it. I’m not afraid like you.”
Walker looked away from her and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Baby, you think I’m afraid, but the fact is, I just don’t want forever with you. I never told you different, so don’t go acting surprised now.”
A tear slid down her cheek, and she didn’t bother to brush it away. “Dammit, Walker. Now you’re making me cry.”
“I never wanted to do that. But it’s better if I make you cry now than pretend that it could be something else and make you do it later.”
“I don’t think there’s a better.” She started to collect her clothes, feeling stupid because she’d bought red underwear for him. Feeling stupid because she’d thought it made her different.
She froze while she was putting on the red panties. No, she hadn’t bought these for him. She’d bought them for her. And she hadn’t bought them to make her different, she’d bought them because she was different.
So he was taking himself from her, and that was horrible. Awful. Heartrending and painful. But he couldn’t take this change from her. He could break her heart—and oh, he was—but he couldn’t take away everything he’d given her, everything she’d found out about herself.
She was determined that her grandmother wouldn’t be proven right. Determined to stand behind the choices she’d made.
Because she couldn’t regret Walker. She wouldn’t.
“Do you need me to come back tomorrow?” she asked, when she’d gotten completely dressed. He’d just stood there watching the whole time, and she’d done her best to ignore him.
“No. We’ll manage.”
Just like that. Out of his bed. Out of his life. Out of Kayla’s life. Like she’d never mattered.
“Fine. I’ll . . . I’ll see you sometimes still, Walker. I hope it’s not uncomfortable.”
It couldn’t be anything but, but she was going to pull herself together now. She would fall apart later. She would keep it together now, drive home, then throw herself on the bed and cry for three days straight.
“I can handle it.”
“So can I,” she said.
“Great. I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said, his voice rough.
“Oh, please don’t apologize. Like you have no control over any of this.” One final surge of anger, of adrenaline, shot through her. “Because between you and me? I think you’re lying to yourself. I mean . . . good Lord, Walker. I seduced you in a funeral director’s dress with all the skills of a thirty-year-old woman who’d never been kissed. If that’s not love? I don’t know what to tell you.”
And on that note, she walked out of his bedroom, and out of his life.
Chapter Ten
Bah fricking humbug. That was about the best Walker could do for Christmas Eve. At least on the inside. On the outside he had to smile and make sure he plugged in the damned Christmas tree, because he was doing this holiday for Kayla, and not for himself.
Wasn’t that what Sarah had reminded him of?
Oh, Sarah.
Just thinking about her sent a wave of emotion, of pain, over him. And this pain wasn’t centered in his dick. It wasn’t about sex or desire, or the fact that his bed felt empty and cold and he kept waking up with a hard-on, although that was all true.
No, this pain was mainly centered in his heart. And it was bad.
Not that it really surprised him. Because he’d lied to her. He’d just flat-out lied. He’d told her didn’t love her. He’d told her he wasn’t scared. And none of that was true.
He was petrified. Because she made him care. She made him want. She made him love. She’d torn open the locked doors that had barred off places in his heart and soul that he’d never wanted to visit again. And she’d left them that way, then left him.
Of course, he’d made her leave. With his stupid, angry words. And all that fear. That overwhelming, choking fear.
That she would love him today, and stop tomorrow. That she would decide one day that he wasn’t worth it. That Kayla wasn’t worth it.
She was right; he’d wanted a guarantee. So he’d guaranteed himself a life of sad and horny misery instead of taking the chance on anything else. At least it was a sure thing.
Some consolation.
“We’re going to the tree lighting tonight, right?” Kayla said, her blue eyes huge and pleading.
“I don’t know, squirt. Why don’t we stay home? You can open a present and we can watch Rudolph.”
“But Sarah . . . I mean, Miss Larsen, is leading the kindergarteners in Christmas carols at the lighting and I miss her and I really want to go. We practiced the songs before we left for break and they’re really fun. We have one about Santa on a skateboard.”
“Real traditional, huh?”
“Yeah,” his daughter said, clearly not getting his meaning.
“And Miss Larsen is going to be there?”
“Yeah. I miss her. Don’t you miss her?”
He missed her like he would miss air if he were pushed under water. He missed her so much he didn’t know how he was supposed to keep going.
But what was the option? Just . . . forget how hard his marriage had been? Forget how much it had hurt when Elise had left him?
To just stop being a coward?
Was it really that easy?
“Having Miss Larsen here made me happy,” Kayla said.
She’d made him happy too. Having her here had been like having little glimpses into a kind of perfect, beautiful life he’d thought far beyond him.
Well, it’s too far to reach now, dumbass, because you pushed it away. Because you’re afraid. You’re just what she said. A scared little boy who doesn’t want to get hurt again.
But he was hurt. It was too late to be anything else.
He was in love too, and he’d promised himself he’d never do the love shit again. Because love was horrible.
No, that was wrong. Love was wonderful. Loving Sarah, when she was in his home, in his arms, her eyes shining at him, that special smile on her lips, was wonderful. Losing love was horrific.
And he hadn’t lost love. He’d tied a millstone around it and chucked it in the river.
He was an idiot.
He did love her. He loved her more than he’d ever loved a woman before, and that was where the fear came in. Losing Elise had been hard. Losing Sarah, losing her right now, was killing him by inches, killing him with grief, and he’d known it would.
But he’d thought maybe if he did it now instead of later—now, when he had control, when he could say to her face he didn’t love her—that it might spare him.
Well, that was damn funny now, as he sat in his living room in front of a Christmas tree he wouldn’t have if it weren’t for her, drowning in sorrow while trying to smile for the sake of his daughter.
“It’s easy to be happy when Miss Larsen is around,” he said, his voice rough.
“Can she come over?”
“No,” he said, leaning his head back on the couch. “No, she can’t.”
“Oh. Because she’s busy?”
“Yeah,” he said, his throat tightening. He closed his eyes and pictured her like she’d been on that first night, her hair back, in that horrible dress. She was right. That tug that he had felt had gone beyond lust. It always had.
Oh, there was plenty of lust, but it was deeper. Like he’d known from the first moment that she was special. That she was her own brand of woman, unique in every way.
And yet you’re trying to make her pay for someone else’s sins.
No. That wasn’t it. He was trying to make himself pay. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Because it was his fault. Because she’d left because of him—that’s what he was afraid of. Afraid that changing the woman would never matter because he wouldn’t be able to change himself enough.
He felt a little hand on his arm, and he looked over at Kayla. “Are you okay, Daddy?” she asked.
“I think I made a mistake, Kayla,” he said.
She frowned. “Then you should say sorry. You can always say you’re sorry.”
He laughed and planted his hands on his thighs. “Yeah, I suppose I could.”
It was simple. But then, that’s how kids saw life. Without all the garbage adults piled onto it. Kayla knew hurt, but she’d attached herself to Sarah without hesitation. To Kayla, fixing mistakes was still as easy as saying sorry.
Another one of those funny aches took over his chest. It made him long for more things he couldn’t have. For a time when things had been that simple.
Just say sorry.
Why not? Why the hell not? He didn’t have anything to lose.
He looked around the room, at the Christmas decorations, at the warmth that Sarah had brought into his life.
No, he sure as hell didn’t have anything to lose. Except for that crushing fear. And once he lost that, he had everything to gain.
***
Sarah wrapped her arms around herself and bounced up and down in place, trying to keep her blood flowing to all her extremities. It was below freezing and she was herding a bunch of chilly kindergarteners around a roped-off parking lot, trying to get them in place in front of the Christmas tree for the big ceremony.
Walker wasn’t here. Neither was Kayla. That she wanted them there seemed seriously silly. And a little masochistic. But she did.
She just wanted to see Kayla’s sweet little face. She wanted to a quick glance at Walker. At the man she loved. Still. She loved him so much.
Stupid lame heart. She had half a mind to cut it out with a spoon.
“Sarah!”
Sarah looked across the parking lot, which was still covered with snow, and saw a little figure in a pink hat and jacket running toward her, blond braids swinging with the motion.
“Kayla!”
Kayla flung herself at Sarah, her arms like a vice around her waist.
Sarah squeezed her eyes closed, tears threatening to fall. “I’m glad you made it,” she said, her throat too tight to let out anything much louder than a whisper.
“Me too. Where do we sing?”
Sarah shook her head and did her best to get herself back on track, and to get over the disappointment that Walker had gone out of his way to avoid her. “Right over here.”
After a few run-throughs of the little music program, the kids were antsy, and the lunch lady, Ms. Mckenna, brought cocoas over to help keep them still while the crowd started to fill up the parking lot, and the area around the tree.
First came an introduction from the mayor, then the kindergarteners were on. They were adorable—and off-key. Their rendition of “Silent Night” was all over the place, their “Joy to the World” only half remembered.
And it was the first thing to make Sarah really smile in days. As they sang the last notes of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” the lights on the tree came on, bathing everything in a colorful glow.
When they were through, everyone clapped. Sarah turned to face the audience, and froze when she saw him. Backlit by the tree, snow falling behind him, was Walker. Just as sexy, just as imposing as he’d been that first night she’d seen him.
But he was more now. He was so dear to her. So perfect.
And he didn’t just make her heart race; he made it ache.
“I need to borrow Miss Larsen for a second,” he said to the class, and then he held his hand out. Like he expected her to do something other than stand there and look dumb. He was going to have to be disappointed on that score. Ms. Mckenna stood behind the line of kids, making a shooing motion, her eyes wide.
She moved away from the kids, but she didn’t take his hand. And she wasn’t blind to the fact that the whole town was watching mousy Miss Larsen wander into a shadowy patch with a dark stranger.
Well, fine. They should know that she was a little surprising. That she had mysterious qualities. She wasn’t just mousy Miss Larsen.
Though that didn’t matter as much as she’d thought it would. She didn’t really care what they thought. Not when she was brokenhearted and miserable. Not when her mystery man was the one who’d done it. The whole scenario was less glamorous than she’d thought it might be. Sure, people might see her differently if they knew she’d had an af
fair with Walker, but did any of it matter if she didn’t have Walker?
“I need to talk to you,” he said.
“Right now?” she asked. “Because there are people everywhere and if you want to make me cry again, I’d just as soon we not do it in front of the whole fricking world.”
“I don’t want to make you cry,” he said. “You might cry. Hell, baby, I might cry, and I don’t want to do it at all, in private or in front of people, but I can’t make any guarantees.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m a coward. You’re right about that. I was afraid. I am afraid. I’m shaking, inside and out.” He held his hand out and she could see how unsteady it was. “But I have to do this. Because . . . because I need you.”
“You need me?”
“Yes. I had no idea how much until I tried to live the past few days without you.”
“You’ve lived thirty-six years without me.”
“But it wasn’t the same.”
Hope bloomed in her chest. And she tried to suppress it, because she really didn’t think she could take being let down by him again. “You’re not about to tell me you missed that silly ginger you were sleeping with, are you?”
“So much. And not just sleeping with her. I missed not coming home to her. I missed the fact that my house felt warm. That there was someone sharing my space with me. Mostly though, I just missed you. I thought . . . I’m scared, Sarah, because I chased Elise away and I don’t want to do that to you. So I lied to you. And I told you I didn’t love you because I thought . . . somehow, losing you now would hurt less than losing you later. But that wasn’t true.”
“Rewind. You love me?”
“Yes. But I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes I made. And she didn’t tell me what they were. What I’d done. What I could have done differently. I don’t know if I’ve done enough to become a better husband now, but I want to be. I want to . . . to date you,” he said, “to find out. If you really want me. If I can really do this.”
Whether or not she had experience in love, she knew her love for Walker was true. And no, she had no idea how to have a relationship. Had no idea how to be a good girlfriend or, eventually, wife. Had no idea how to be a mother.
