A December to Remember: a Holiday Romance Anthology

by Howe, Olivia

  Winn shook her head vehemently as another gasping sob erupted from her chest.

  The brightly colored box Eric carried from the porch was a Christmas train set. He remembered Tyler loved trains.

  Crap.

  How thoughtful. Winn’s heart softened.

  “He has his reasons for wanting to decorate. You should let him explain.”

  Had she overreacted? Eric’s crestfallen expression told her he’d expected her response to be much different. He had no clue about how she'd distanced herself from the holiday to ward off the haunting memories. She needed to explain—and apologize for being a major bitch.

  Winn didn’t have many friends, but she’d grown close to Anna over the last couple weeks, and the handful of times Anna had been at the house, Tyler seemed to like her too. “Anna, would you be able to stay a little while longer? Tyler will be home from school soon, and I need to go make an apology.”

  Anna hugged her tightly, a heartwarming comfort Winn hadn't experienced in such a long time. “Take all the time you need, sweetie. I’ll fix up dinner for Tyler.”

  Winn broke the embrace, brushing away the last of her tears.

  As she turned to leave, Anna spoke again. “And Winn, honey? Please remember—you deserve to be happy. You both do.”

  Unsure what to say, Winn simply nodded at her friend.

  She didn't believe she deserved anything good.

  She did believe Eric deserved so much good in his life—and he didn't deserve the baggage she carried with her every day.

  Chapter 7

  The sleet fell in sheets, its icy fingers tapping on the roof of Winn's car, reminding her to proceed with caution. At this point, driving carefully was the least of her worries. In the minutes she'd been in the car, a million different thoughts flitted through her head.

  None were as disconcerting as the one shouting, “You're falling for him, you idiot!”

  Nothing was going as planned. This was supposed to be a place of rest and recovery and healing for her and Tyler, and eventually Gus.

  No matter what she did now, it would be wrong. Wrong to let him in to their lives. Wrong to love him when she was so broken and offered nothing. Wrong to let him go, when her body wanted to feel alive again at the ecstasy of his touch, and her icy heart wanted nothing more than to wrap itself in his comforting embrace and throw off the suffocating shroud of grief and guilt forever.

  No lights were on inside, but she rang the bell and shivered while she waited. No response, not even from a dog startling from the noise. She knocked, and still nothing.

  Winn would’ve guessed he wasn't home, except his truck was parked in the drive.

  Winn returned to the car for her phone, realizing she should’ve called before arriving unannounced. Then barking from the barn caught her attention. He was with his dogs, of course, seeking comfort in their non-judgmental company.

  Pulse racing, Winn trod carefully over the icy walk, before her feet touched the sleet-soaked lawn. Her shoes sunk into the mess with each step.

  The need to express her shame over her behavior drove her through the freezing muck, and when she finally reached the door to the kennel, she believed pounding on it would be redundant. Surely he could hear her heart threatening to burst from her chest?

  Just in case, though, she rapped lightly and a cacophony of barking dogs rose up. The door whipped open, startling Winn. He blinked and then shook his head. He was equally astonished by her appearance.

  The darkness in his eyes frightened her, and another wave of guilt washed over her as she realized she was the one who’d stolen the light from him today.

  Her mouth went dry, and before she could speak, he’d pulled her inside, into his arms, kissing her hair and saying “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” over and over.

  She pulled back, and touched his face, stroked the pale scars webbing one cheek. “No, I'm so sorry. You were trying to do something thoughtful for us, and I blew up at you. Please, please let me explain.”

  He shook his head, an errant lock of hair falling across his forehead. Winn beat back the urge to smooth it away from his face. Her whole body hurt seeing him in pain, especially since she was the cause of it.

  “Let's go back to the house.”

  He grabbed a slicker from the hook inside the door and wrapped it around her as they stood on the covered stoop of the kennel. She hadn’t realized till now she forgot to grab her coat when she left her house.

  In an unexpected motion, he swooped her up in his arms, and moved with her to the house. She protested, wiggled a bit in his arms, but he tightened his grip, suppressing any further objections.

  As soon as she settled comfortably against him, pressing her cheek to his solid chest, he set her down. Had they made it to the house so quickly?

  He opened the front door and ushered her in, taking the slicker from her and hanging it on the coat rack. He then kneeled and removed her wet shoes from her tingling feet.

  Such a gallant gesture, one that set her heart racing again.

  Eric took her hand and led her to his soft sofa.

  “Sit.” He busied himself making a fire. When the task was complete, he turned back to her. “Want anything? Coffee? Tea? Beer?”

  Winn cleared her throat, trying to rid it of the lump forming there. She croaked out, “Water, please.”

  He nodded and returned quickly with a glass of water for her and a bottle of beer for himself. He sat on the ottoman across from her, his large body seeming to fill the space between them. She swallowed a sip of water and took a deep breath.

  “Eric, I—”

  “Winn—”

  “You go.” His nervous laugh soothed her own frayed nerves.

  “I’m so, so sorry for overreacting. What you did was amazing. You believed I didn't have the time or energy to decorate.” He nodded in acknowledgement, and she continued. “You're partly right. The truth of the matter is, I didn't have the emotional strength to do it.”

  Again, he nodded, but knitted his brows, so she elaborated. “A year ago, before Christmas, we were out. Gus, Tyler, and I. We stopped for dinner. The weather had turned bad, and I’d had a couple drinks with dinner, so Gus insisted on driving me home. It had been sleeting, and…”

  Winn closed her eyes, a single tear escaping as she recalled Gus's teasing that night.

  Lush, he'd joked. Can't you control your drinking? She’d let him play protective brother, and so he slid behind the wheel of the car to navigate the slick roads.

  Eric's thumb brushing the tear away from her cheek was her undoing.

  Taking in a gulp of air, she wailed, “It's my fault he can’t walk, that he’s been unable to be with his son for a year. If I'd been driving… I wish it had been me!”

  In an instant, Eric was at her side, cradling her in his arms, rocking her, smoothing her hair from her face, soothing her.

  “Why?” she wailed in his chest. “Why not me? Why Gus? Why not the drunk driver who hit us? It's not fair!”

  “Shhhhhh. Don't ever believe any of this is your fault. Your brother did what he wanted to do, and if he's anything like you, it’s hard to persuade him to change his mind.”

  Winn's sobs subsided, and she relaxed into his arms as he laid back into the arm of the overstuffed couch. “You-you're right. Logically, I've always known. That does little to ease the pain when I'm having a problem, and I think ‘maybe Gus can help.’ Then it hits me, he has so many of his own problems and my worries are so petty. The guilt smothers me all over again.”

  Eric's chest rose and fell beneath her head for a few minutes as he continued to stroke her hair. He took another deep breath and finally spoke.

  “Yeah. It sucks, so much.”

  Winn pulled herself up to meet his eyes, the sadness there weighing heavily on her. She was so selfish. She'd experienced so much grief, but she wasn't alone. She wanted more than anything to relieve him of some of his heartache, the way he’d done for
her.

  “Anna told me I should ask you about why you wanted to decorate my house.” Winn laid her head back on his shoulder. “Is this about your sister? Please tell me about her.”

  He inhaled again and trembled faintly. He wrapped his arms around her a little tighter. “I'm sure you've heard things about how Lizzie died.”

  “Yes, but for a town that thrives on gossip, not much.”

  “Because I haven't talked to anyone about it. Not even Tony.”

  Winn's breath caught. He was telling her.

  She softly stroked the worn fabric of his old sweatshirt, his anxiety apparent in the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

  “No one knows more than what the papers reported. Flight 77 slammed into the Pentagon at 9:37 A.M. on September 11. We waited for good news. My mom, my dad. We kept calling. She never answered.”

  Eric's voice wavered, but he continued. “Lizzie worked there for a couple years after college—she was eight years older than me— but she’d always wanted more. She was turning in her resignation that morning. She'd finished her coursework for teacher licensing over the summer and was hired by a special education center in western Maryland to fill in for a teacher going out on maternity leave in October.”

  He was shaking now, and she wanted nothing more than to take away his pain. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on as tight as she could, as she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears welling up for his agony.

  “Eric, you don't have to...”

  He sniffed and his body shuddered. “Yes, I do. I can't keep it bottled up anymore. I have to tell someone. I have to tell you.”

  Winn let the tears flow. Hot, silent tears. It took great trust to share the agony with someone, and she was moved he trusted her with his pain.

  He sobbed, and she held on tighter. “She was gone, and she’d never be back. I’d talked to her that morning. She called the house to tell us her good news. She wanted to catch up, but I was going to be late for school. If I’d kept talking… made her late for work…”

  “Eric, no! You did nothing wrong. How could you know?”

  Sitting up and wiping his eyes, he sniffled again. “Like you, I know, logically. But I miss her and wish I could go back and change everything...”

  Winn touched a finger to his full lips, shaking her head. “Everyone who's lost someone wishes. I wish, too. Those wishes won't come true, no matter how hard we hope.”

  She contemplated her own words. She needed to heed them as well.

  A few minutes later, Eric broke the peaceful silence that had settled over the room.

  “As soon as I could, I joined the army. I wanted revenge on the monsters who killed my sister. The idea of vengeance drove me for so long, but no matter what happened when I was deployed, the hole inside never filled.”

  He shuddered. “Finally, I sought therapy. I’d seen so much death in Afghanistan, there was no way more combat could me get over the loss of my sister. The therapist suggested I channel my energies into something positive.”

  Ah. That’s why he loved working with the kids. “You got into training dogs to carry on your sister’s work of helping special needs children?”

  “Yes. No. I was already working with the dogs in the army. It was the best thing about my time in the service. When I left, it seemed a natural transition to make dog training a career. And I wanted to do something to honor Lizzie.”

  “I’m sure she’s proud of you.”

  He wiped at his eyes again. “So how is this connected to me decorating your house? Lizzie loved Christmas. When we were kids, we always helped to decorate the house. We made ornaments every year. I still have them all.”

  Winn nodded. They were hung on the tree the last time she was here.

  Eric continued. “When she was living in D.C., Lizzie volunteered at a local shelter, and every Christmas they collected decorations and gifts from local businesses to donate to needy families. It brought her so much joy, the families enjoying the fruits of her labor, when otherwise they would have no Christmas. You aren't needy, but you’ve been through a lot this past year, and I thought you’d be happy with me doing the decorating.”

  “I do appreciate you thinking of us.”

  “Thanks, but I shouldn’t have interfered. I'm sorry.”

  She caught his face in her hands. “No. That's not what I was going to say. Thank you. It was quite lovely. And you remembered. Tyler will love the trains.”

  She couldn't help but grin at him. It was so thoughtful. Everything he did was thoughtful.

  He cupped her head, pulling her mouth closer to his.

  Winn was crazy to fall for him.

  But how could she not?

  She leaned forward, and he met her halfway.

  His lips were a whisper away from hers. She could practically taste the slightly sweet, strong beer he'd been drinking.

  She slid one leg over him, straddling his lap.

  It was time to satisfy her thirst for more. As she’d done their first night out, she boldly kissed him. Again, he didn't respond immediately.

  Then Eric's lips parted, and began to move softly, caressing her mouth and coaxing her lips open. Stars exploded behind her closed eyes, showering her in excitement that was also oddly soothing, helping to soften the edges of the sharp anguish of the past year.

  When his tongue darted out, scraped against hers, the faintest of moans escaped from a place inside Winn long-buried under painful memories, submerged beneath the burden of physical and emotional scars.

  How quickly Eric's touch tunneled beneath the surface and unlocked a vulnerable place, allowing her to feel again.

  He matched her groan with his own and laced his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer, deeper into the kiss. Winn wound her arms around his back, slipping her hands under his sweatshirt, reveling in the hard muscle and warm skin.

  Eric tore his lips from hers and traced hot kisses across her cheek, to her ear, and down her neck, before reclaiming her mouth again in a soft, searching kiss. She caught his face in her hands, stroking the soft beard, tracing the faint scars on his cheek.

  She whimpered, her heart keeping time with her racing mind. This was crazy, so much more than she’d bargained for, expected. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t let go. He tasted like beer and happiness and…

  Home.

  Her hands moved almost on their own, grasping, seeking comfort, shelter.

  Love.

  She wanted him so much, her insides quaked from excitement—and fear.

  No one had ever been close enough to touch her heart before.

  Now this beautiful man held it in her hands, and she wanted to give it to him.

  Was there anything left to give?

  She pulled away and tried to stand, but her knees buckled. He reached for her, and she sank back into his arms. Collapsing against his rock-hard chest, she only offered as explanation a muffled whisper. “I can't.”

  He kissed her hair. “Then we won't. But don't go yet. I don't want to be alone.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, to refuse his request.

  Before she could speak, he pleaded, “Please.”

  The strained tone of his request was her downfall.

  She couldn't say no.

  Curling into his side seemed like the most natural thing to do. For a short time, she'd allow herself the simple joy of being cared for, comforted.

  “I can't stay long. I need to head home soon.”

  “I understand.”

  She closed her eyes and reveled in his warmth. A few minutes more. An hour maybe.

  Then Winn fell asleep, lulled into slumber by the safety she found in Eric's arms.

  ***

  Eric's spirit felt lighter.

  Like all the aluminum and concrete and molten steel from the Pentagon that had crushed Lizzie was lifted from his heart, like the stench of death and the echo of explosives shattering glass and bone in Afghani
stan, was eradicated from his soul.

  He stroked Winn's soft ginger curls and relaxed as she snored lightly against his chest. She needed to go soon, but she rested so peacefully he couldn't bear to wake her. If he was being honest, he was happy too, and didn't want her to go.

  It wasn't every night he fell in love, and he wanted to hold on to her, and this moment, for as long as he could.

  Ever since she'd planted her lips on his two weeks ago, he’d been in trouble. It had taken all of his will to push her away. He’d tried not to fall. Had respected her wishes about keeping it “strictly business” between them in that time.

  Despite his own denial it was anything more, every moment he spent near her opened the abyss wider and deeper.

  Each glance across the tiny grocery store, every accidental meeting at the bakery, each phone conversation about Tyler's case, pushed him closer to the edge of the chasm.

  Tonight, her soft body pressed against his aroused his passion.

  Her trust in him aroused something altogether different.

  The trust required to reveal her deeply entrenched agony, the guilt plaguing her, opened him to every emotion he'd been trying to suppress.

  It was time to admit he was insanely, irrationally, irrevocably, in love with this woman.

  God, he loved everything about her.

  She was lovely, but it wasn't simply the way she looked. It was the way she looked at him, like he was the only man in the world. The gentleness and patience she exhibited with Tyler was calming, like a warm blanket and a hot cup of soup at the end of a hard day's work out in the cold.

  She soothed his soul like no one else ever had. It exhilarated him and scared the crap out of him all at once.

  Eric was lost in uncharted territory without a compass.

  He couldn't wait to navigate this new adventure with her by his side.

  ***

  For the second time that day, Eric followed Winn home, this time with a greater understanding of why she hated the wintery weather. He walked her to the front porch and kissed her again, softly, before whispering, “Good night.”

  She wanted to invite him in, but it wasn’t the right time. It might confuse Tyler, and she still had to consider his needs before her own.