by Tara Wyatt
He came up behind her and pressed his hands into her shoulders, wanting to anchor her, to reassure her. “If that happens, we’ll deal with it.”
She turned to face him and balled her fists at her sides, tears shining in her eyes. “I didn’t want you to look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you feel sorry for me. Like you pity me. Like I’m damaged.”
“I’m not supposed to feel bad for you? He did a shitty thing, Christie. It’s not your fault, but that doesn’t change that a fucking shitty thing happened to you.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, trying to rein in his frustration.
“You know that it’s for the best if we end this.” Her tone was quiet, almost pleading.
“Best for who? I don’t want to leave you alone to deal with this.” Protective anger coursed through him.
“I’m fine on my own, Luke. It’s what’s best for you and Ethan. I’ll only wreck everything.”
“So you don’t even want to try?” His mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. She couldn’t mean that, could she? He was trying so hard to say all the right things, but apparently that wasn’t enough.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “We can’t see each other anymore. I can’t do this.” Her face crumpled as she looked at him. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
Frustration, anger and desperation slammed together, and his jaw tightened like a vise. “How can you stand there and pretend that what we have isn’t worth anything?”
“I’m not pretending that. It’s me who isn’t worth anything. I can’t be everything you deserve.” She hugged herself, arms clutched around her stomach.
“So the fact that I’m in love with you means what, exactly?”
Instead of answering his question, she let out a shuddering sob and then scrubbed her hands over her face. “Please. I need you to go. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“I’ll go, Christie, but we’re not done.” He jammed his hands onto his hips. “I mean it. Take some time. Think about it. Because this isn’t over. I’m not walking away from the best thing that’s happened to me in years.” He picked up his coat off the couch, still speaking as he shoved his arms through the sleeves. “I’ll give you some space. But I’m not giving up on this. I don’t give up on the people I love.”
He understood that she only wanted the best for him and his son, and that’s why she was pushing him away. He got that. He just needed to find a way to show her that she was what was best for him, because he knew that like he knew his name.
He slammed the door to his truck and navigated slowly through the snowy streets, back to his parents’ house.
Chapter 11
December 23
“Hey, Mom. It’s me,” said Christie. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, curling into the corner of the couch. She wiggled her toes in her fuzzy socks, trying to find some measure of comfort.
“Hey there, baby girl. Your daddy and I were just talking about you. Hope you’re not working too hard.”
Her mom’s voice wrapped itself around her heart, and suddenly Christie found herself blinking back tears. She sucked in a deep breath.
“Christie? Honey? What’s wrong?”
“Everything, Mom. God, everything.” She blinked, and two tears cut hot paths down her cheeks. She’d only called because she wanted to hear her mom’s voice, to catch up with her and find out how she and her dad were doing. Instead, she found herself pouring out the entire story of Luke, Ethan, and everything that had happened.
Meeting them in the ER. The parade. Their first date. Spending time with Ethan and Luke’s family. Luke finding out about the pictures.
She realized, as she spoke, that she hadn’t told her parents about Luke because a part of her had always been waiting for this exact scenario to play out.
“I love him, Mom,” she whispered, clutching the phone. “I love him, but I don’t deserve him, and I have to let him go.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before her mother spoke. “You need to stop beating yourself up about those pictures, honey. I know you regret what you did, and I know people said some hurtful things to you, but none of those things are true. We’ve all made mistakes, but most of us are lucky enough to have those mistakes play out in private. The biggest mistake you could make right now would be letting Brian win. Letting the people who said nasty, unkind things about you win. You need to live your life. You deserve to be happy. You’ve suffered enough for what happened.”
Her mother’s words washed over her, and Christie pulled in a slow, deep breath, wanting so badly to believe them. To believe that she could have Luke, and put the past behind her. “What if people here find out? What if it hurts Luke and Ethan?”
“Then you deal with it, if and when it comes to that. From what you told me, it sounds like he’d be by your side, and that’s something worth hanging on to. You are smart and beautiful and kind, and you need to see yourself that way, baby girl. See the truth of who you are.”
She laughed through the tears streaming down her face. “You have to say that. You’re my mother.”
“Use the people who love you as your mirror. Not the people out to cut you down. The reflection they’re showing you is tainted and not worthy of your time.”
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch, trying to see herself through Luke’s eyes. Part of the reason she’d never told him about the pictures was because she hadn’t felt like that damaged person around him, and she knew it was because of the way he’d looked at her. The way he’d seen the truth of her, right from the start.
God, how had she lost the truth of herself for so long?
“It might be too late,” she said quietly. “I pushed him away.”
“If he sees you the way I think he does, he’ll be back.”
* * *
December 24
Christie’s entire body felt heavy with exhaustion, weariness filling her bones with lead. She turned her SUV out of the hospital parking lot and began the mercifully short drive home. The route between her little bungalow and the hospital normally took about ten minutes, but traffic was incredibly light, the streets practically deserted. It was 8 p.m. on Christmas Eve, and everyone had somewhere else to be. Well, everyone except her.
Big, fluffy snowflakes began to fall, drifting down in the still, silent night. She flicked on her wipers and turned onto her street, relieved to almost be home, where she could just crawl into bed after a big glass of wine and a couple of Tylenol. Christmas in the ER was always tough, and although her specialty was pediatrics, it was all hands on deck with so many others on vacation. There had been two attempted suicides rushed in, a slew of cooking related burns, more than one case of alcohol poisoning, and a teenage boy with one of the worst broken legs she’d seen in a while. He’d climbed up on his roof, trying to fix a burnt-out light display, and had slipped on a patch of ice. Poor kid. He’d probably need surgery, and he’d be in a cast until spring.
She’d spent any free seconds she’d had trying to think of what to say to Luke to fix what she’d broken between them, but she couldn’t seem to find the right words. Everything she came up with felt flat or hollow, and it needed to be right. Maybe after a hot shower and some sleep, her brain would feel clearer, and she’d figure out what to do.
As she drew closer to her house, her brow furrowed in worried confusion.
Oh, Jesus. Her house was on fire.
She blinked rapidly and shook her head, and the confusion cleared as she realized the warm glow coming from the roofline of her house wasn’t fire.
It was Christmas lights.
And then she saw it. Luke’s dark blue truck parked in her driveway. Her heart leapt into her throat and she urged her SUV a little faster down the street. She pulled in behind him, wondering if her shaking hands would be obvious to him, because she couldn’t seem to control the tremor spreading from her fingertips straig
ht to her core.
“Hi, Christie!” Ethan waved, all bundled up in the cold. A ladder leaned against the side of the house. “Do you like your Christmas present?”
She looked up at the house, decorated so beautifully. Strings of warm, white lights lined the roof and twisted around the columns of the porch. A huge wreath hung from the front door, and more lights hung over the garage and lit the walkway from the driveway to the porch. The house glowed like a beacon against the velvet dark of the sky, and with the snow falling softly around her, it was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. She had no words, but it didn’t matter, because she wouldn’t have been able to speak around the lump in her throat anyway.
“Okay, bud, we should be—” Luke came around from the side of the house, dusting snow off of his jeans. He stopped mid-step, mid-sentence when he saw her.
“Hi.” He smiled tentatively, his face searching hers.
“Hi.” She spoke the word so softly, she wasn’t sure if he heard it. It didn’t seem to matter, because he closed the distance between them, his boots crunching in the snow.
“Christie, I—”
She cut him off with a gentle kiss, and his lips softened into hers instantly. She wrapped her arms around him, and breaking the kiss, shook her head. “Luke, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I understand why you did it. You were trying to protect me, to protect Ethan from . . .” He glanced at his son. “Everything. But, Christie, you’ve got it backwards. I want to be the one protecting you, but I can only do that if you stop holding yourself hostage to past mistakes.” He kissed her again, and it was so full of hope, so full of promise that her heart filled near to bursting. Cupping her face, he pressed his forehead to hers. “There is nothing that could change how I feel about you. You are kind and smart and so damn beautiful, and I want you in my life.” He looked at Ethan again. “Our lives.”
Relief, warm like golden sunshine, washed over her, and she had no words for the gratitude that was threatening to overwhelm her. Despite everything—the existence of the pictures, the secret she’d kept from him, pushing him away—here he was, telling her he wanted a future with her. She bit her lip, looking up at him.
“I love you, Luke. It scares me, but I love you. And if you’ll have me, I want nothing more than to be with you.”
A wide grin spread across his face, and his arms tightened around her. “I love you, too. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed her again, and she leaned into him, seeking out his warmth, his touch. Him. Luke.
“Christie, you never said if you like your present!” Ethan stared at them, his eyes glittering.
“I love it. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“You mean it?” Ethan’s little face lit up with happiness.
She nodded, the lump returning to her throat. “I mean it.”
Luke pressed a kiss to her temple. “You said you didn’t bother with decorations because you’d be spending Christmas alone. So, obviously, I had to fix that. Since you won’t be alone. You should spend Christmas with the people you love. With the people who love you.”
She tried to breathe, but couldn’t, because her heart was so full that it was taking up all of the available space in her chest. To have a chance at a fresh start with Luke, to spend Christmas with him and his son, was more than she’d dared hope for. Ethan ran forward through the snow and flung his arms around their legs, and together, the three of them looked up at the twinkling lights as fresh, pure, snowflakes fell around them.
Santa had come early this year. For all three of them.
About the Author
Tara Wyatt is a contemporary romance and romantic suspense author. Known for her humor and steamy love scenes, Tara’s writing has won several awards, including the Unpublished Winter Rose, the Linda Howard Award of Excellence, and the Heart of the West. A librarian by day and romance writer by night, Tara lives in Hamilton, Ontario, with the world’s cutest dog and a husband who makes all of her heroes look like chumps. Visit her online at www.tara-wyatt.com or find her on Twitter @taradwyatt. She’d love to hear from you!
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
About the Author
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Copyright Page
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
“When Snowflakes Fall” Copyright © 2016 by Tara Wyatt.
All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Couple © Aliaksei Smalenski/Shutterstock; Snow © S_Photo/Shutterstock
eISBN 978-1-250-11808-0 (ebook)
First eBook Edition: October 2016
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, ext. 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].
