A Marine for Christmas

by Beth Andrews

  “She’s also sweet and funny and sexy…” Brady shook his head to clear his thoughts.

  Liz’s took a step back as if she’d been slapped. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “You’re in love with her.”

  The back of his neck tingled, like it used to in Afghanistan before a firefight broke out. As it did moments before the bomb exploded. “I’m not in love with Jane Cleo,” he growled, noticing the relief in Liz’s eyes.

  Loving one Montgomery sister had almost killed him. And he never made the same mistake twice.

  “All the more reason to stay away from her,” Liz said emphatically, the breeze lifting her hair. “Before she gets hurt. I mean it, Brady. Leave her be.”

  Damn it, he knew that. “You gave up any say into how I live my life when you wrote me that Dear John letter.”

  “This isn’t about you and me,” she said unsteadily.

  “It’s only ever been about us,” he said, his voice rising. “I loved you, I wanted to marry you. We’d planned our life together and then suddenly you met someone new and it’s over?”

  Her mouth trembled. “It wasn’t like that. With Carter, I mean. I never… We didn’t…”

  “You didn’t what?”

  “I never cheated on you.”

  “Is that supposed to make it all right?” he asked, taking that last step, forcing her to back up. She bumped into J.C.’s car. He kept walking until he stood mere inches from her. “How long after you sent that letter did it take the two of you to get together?”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “Brady, please don’t…”

  A car drove by but both Brady and Liz ignored it. “I deserve to know,” he said, his stomach in knots. He needed to know. “How long? A week? A month?”

  She wiped her fingers over her cheeks, brushing away the tears. “One.”

  “One week?”

  She stared at the ground. “One day,” she said faintly.

  His blood drummed in his ears. “So while I was over seven thousand miles away, thinking you and I were still engaged, thinking you still loved me, you were back here screwing another guy?”

  She blanched. “I never meant for it to happen. And I’m sorry I hurt you, Brady, but…people change. Feelings…change. You need to accept it and move on.”

  Accept it? She’d lied to him. Used him. And the best she could do was toss him an I’m sorry? And now she wanted him to move on—just not with her sister.

  To hell with her.

  “Just because it was that easy for you doesn’t mean that’s how it works for everyone.” He started pacing, the breeze doing nothing to calm his anger. “You have everything you’ve always wanted.” He spun to face her and she shrank back against the car. “Everything you were supposed to have with me. Instead, I’m five months away from becoming a father to a baby I don’t want with a woman I’ll never be able to love because she’s not you!”

  Behind him, he heard a sound—as if someone had just been punched in the stomach. Brady’s scalp tingled, his skin grew clammy. He turned to find J.C. in the same pajamas she’d had on last night, standing on the next to last step, her feet bare, her eyes huge. With one hand she gripped the railing, with the other she held her stomach protectively.

  His panic spiked. He sensed he was close to losing something important—something he might not be able to get back.

  He didn’t move.

  Now, he wouldn’t have to worry about facing her again. Trying to keep his distance. About the feelings he had for her he couldn’t explain. Things between them could end here, now, before they became even more complicated.

  Before he had to admit to himself that what he’d just said had been nothing but a lie.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  TODAY WAS SUNDAY, J.C. thought stupidly as she stood there, the wind blowing her hair in her face, causing her eyes to tear. How could she forget it was Sunday. And that on Sunday mornings when Liz didn’t work the night before, she took Grandma Rose to church.

  “J.C., let’s go inside where it’s warm,” Liz said as she walked toward her. J.C. didn’t so much as glance Brady’s way. She couldn’t. If she looked at him now, she’d never get through the next few minutes without breaking down.

  Liz climbed up to stand next to her. “Oh, honey, you don’t even have any shoes on.”

  “I didn’t think I’d need them,” she said absently.

  Liz put her arm around J.C.’s shoulder, either ignoring or not noticing how J.C. stiffened. “Come on. We’ll go in, ask Grandma to make some of her blueberry pancakes. You’ll feel better after you have something to eat.”

  J.C. blinked. “Yes, I’m sure some pancakes will make this all better.”

  “At least you’ll be out of the cold and away from…”

  Away from Brady.

  Brady, who hadn’t moved since he noticed her.

  Brady, who didn’t want the baby. Who still loved Liz.

  A sob rose in the back of her throat and she covered her mouth to hide the sound.

  “None of that,” Liz admonished gently. “You don’t want him to see you cry, do you?”

  Why not? He’d already seen her at her absolute worst and best. She was about to tell Liz exactly that when she saw the pity in her sister’s eyes. Any small pieces of her pride that’d survived Brady’s impassioned speech died.

  She shrugged Liz’s arm off. “You go ahead, I’d like a few minutes alone with Brady.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Liz said.

  J.C. stared hard at her sister. “I didn’t ask your opinion. Or your permission.”

  Liz was taken aback. “If that’s what you want…”

  “It is.”

  “All right. But remember, I’m right inside if you need me.”

  “I won’t,” J.C. said with such conviction, she almost believed it herself. “I can handle this on my own.”

  Looking far more hurt than J.C. thought she had a right to, Liz rounded J.C.’s car and walked over to their grandmother’s house. J.C. finally turned to Brady. As she’d suspected, his hooded gaze was on her, his hands in his front pockets, his hair still mussed from her bed. From her fingers.

  Brady stepped toward her, stopping when she backed up a step.

  “Jane…” he said in his deep voice.

  “Is this where you tell me last night was a mistake?”

  “It was.”

  “So it meant nothing to you? Or maybe you’re too big of a coward to admit it did mean something.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t,” she warned, unable to keep her voice from shaking. “Don’t you dare patronize me by giving me some trite apology.”

  He glanced down at the ground. “It’s the best I can do.”

  Her toes were numb, her legs shaking from the cold. “No. It’s all you’re willing to do.” The baby moved, strengthening J.C.’s resolve not to let him see how much he’d hurt her. “I feel sorry for you.”

  His posture grew rigid. “Don’t bother.”

  “Why not? Isn’t that what you want, what this is all about? Poor Brady Sheppard lost his one true love and his plans for the future. Welcome to the real world, Brady, where people get their hearts broken every day. Where plans fall through, jobs are lost and loved ones pass away. The world where we don’t always get what we want, but most people make the most of what they do have.”

  “I’m trying to,” he said with a definite edge to his voice as he stepped onto the stair below her, bringing them eye-to-eye. “Once my knee heals more—”

  “You’ll what, be whole again? Be able to act like a human, like someone who stands up and brushes himself off when he falls? Your leg is an excuse, like your drinking.”

  His expression darkened and he walked away, his gait uneven.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” J.C. muttered. Careful of the damp stairs, she didn’t start jogging until she stepped onto the cold, rough cement of the driveway. She rounded the garage and sped past him to stand in front of the driver’s
door of his truck.

  His keys jingled in his hand. “Move,” he ordered.

  She swallowed. “Remember when I told you I’ve never seen anything through because it’s easier to quit when things get tough?” He inclined his head. “Well, that’s only part of it.” She tried to slow her breathing, to get her heart rate back to where it belonged. “The truth is, if I quit, then I can’t fail.”

  And if she never failed, that was almost as good as always succeeding. Like Liz did.

  “But I’ve realized,” she continued, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt down to cover her cold hands, “that by giving up so I don’t fail, there’s also no chance I’ll ever succeed. And if succeeding means taking risks and putting myself out there, putting my pride on the line, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  She’d do it because, right now, success was more than getting what she wanted. It was proving to herself she had the courage to try.

  “Brady, I…” She took a moment to regain her composure. “I’m in love with you.”

  He flinched. “No. You aren’t.”

  “You don’t have to love me back,” she told him quietly. “You don’t even have to like the fact that I’m in love with you. But don’t you ever tell me what is or isn’t in my heart.”

  He held his head with both hands, as if to stop it from exploding. “Damn it, Jane. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  “How could I? You’re the one who made love to me last night then couldn’t slip out of my bed fast enough this morning. You’re choosing to hold on to Liz, to what you had. Wishing for things to be different, for a life you could’ve had if Liz hadn’t fallen in love with Carter. If you hadn’t been injured. If you hadn’t slept with me and gotten me pregnant.”

  Brady stared straight ahead, not showing even the tiniest flicker of emotion, of reaction to her words.

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “I can’t tell you what your life would’ve been like. But I can tell you what you could’ve had. Me. And our son. You could’ve had a home filled with laughter and love and hope. But you’d rather wallow in self-pity.”

  He glanced at her, took in the tears running freely down her cheeks. “Is that all?” he asked tightly, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

  She used her sleeve to dry her face. “One last thing. If you ever start thinking you’d like to be a part of our lives after all—don’t bother. My son and I will be fine without you. We don’t need you.” She’d make sure her baby had all the love and support she could give him. Hopefully it would be enough to make up for his father’s abandonment. “But I wonder, Brady,” she asked softly, “how do you think you’ll be without us?”

  LIZ WAS ADDING FROZEN blueberries to her grandma’s pancake batter when J.C. finally walked into the kitchen. Her relief at seeing her sister died quickly once she noticed J.C.’s tear-streaked face, red nose and chattering teeth.

  “You poor dear,” Grandma Rose said, wrapping her arm around J.C.’s middle and leading her to the table. “Sit down while I fetch a blanket.”

  “How about getting a pair of socks, too, Grandma?” Liz asked. Grandma Rose waved her hand to indicate she’d heard as she hurried out of the room.

  “Here,” Liz said, setting a tea cup in front of J.C. “Don’t worry,” she added when J.C. just stared at it, “it’s decaf. And I added extra honey.”

  J.C. picked up the cup, sloshing tea over the side. Liz was about to help her when J.C. raised the cup and took a sip.

  Grandma Rose came back into the kitchen carrying two blankets and a pair of fuzzy slipper-socks. “We’ll have you warm again in no time,” Rose said, wrapping a fleece blanket around J.C.’s shoulders while Liz pulled the socks over her cold feet. The second blanket they laid across her lap.

  And that whole time, J.C. didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. Liz and her grandmother exchanged worried glances.

  “Hey,” Liz said, covering J.C.’s cold hand where it rested on the table. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” She pulled her hand away and put it on her lap. “And you’ll no doubt be happy to know that Brady’s gone. Once again, you get exactly what you wanted.”

  Liz sat back. “Excuse me?”

  “You didn’t want him in my life and now he’s not.”

  “He never should’ve been there in the first place,” Liz pointed out. “And as I remember, you promised me you wouldn’t see him anymore.” She lowered her voice so Grandma Rose couldn’t hear. “And yet, there he was, sneaking out of your apartment not twenty minutes ago.”

  And the sight of Brady leaving her sister’s place after having obviously spent the night had been enough to knock the air out of her lungs.

  J.C. pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “The only reason I agreed to that promise was because I was willing to do anything to get you to forgive me. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  Liz flushed hot, then cold. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “And then you added in that story about you and Carter—”

  “What about Liz and Carter?” Rose asked, setting a plate of pancakes in the middle of the table.

  “Nothing,” Liz said, her cheeks burning. She sent J.C. a loaded look, one that clearly said, “Keep your mouth shut.”

  “Carter thinks Liz is still in love with Brady,” J.C. said with more than a hint of venom in her voice. “Liz denies it, but either she’s protesting too much or not enough, because Carter thinks they need to attend marriage counseling.”

  “Is that true, Elizabeth?” Rose asked.

  “Carter and I are fine,” she snapped, glaring at J.C. “And we’ll be even better now that Brady Sheppard is out of the picture.”

  J.C. shook her head. “You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you? You’d like to pretend that Brady is at the root of all your problems.”

  Liz stabbed a pancake and set it on her plate. “Pretend? Brady is at the root of my problems and he has been ever since he crashed my wedding.”

  “So rude,” Rose said, sitting opposite J.C. “You should’ve let your father have him escorted off the premises.”

  “I didn’t want a scene,” she insisted, pouring syrup over her pancakes though her appetite was quickly disappearing.

  “You really don’t see what you’re doing, do you?” J.C. asked. “The reason Brady is a problem for you and Carter at all is because of you. You put him between you and your husband because you haven’t let Brady go yet.”

  Liz set her fork down so no one would notice her hands trembling. “That’s not true. Just because I don’t want my sister and my ex-fiancé to be together doesn’t mean I’m holding on to Brady.”

  “No.” J.C. stood and tossed the blanket over the back of her chair. “It means you can’t stand the idea of Brady moving on. Of him wanting to be with someone besides you.”

  “But he doesn’t want to be with anyone else, does he?” she snapped, immediately wishing she could take her words back when she saw J.C.’s stunned expression. The hurt in her eyes.

  “You’re right,” J.C. said faintly, her face white. “I’ll always be second choice to him.” She rubbed at her temples. “Want to know the worst part? Up until this morning, that would’ve been enough for me.”

  Liz’s chest burned. “J.C., I didn’t mean—”

  “Not now, okay? I…I can’t handle much more this morning and I…” She brought her hand to her mouth, her fingers trembling. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  “Let me get you some ginger ale,” Rose said, going around the table to the refrigerator.

  J.C. was already backing out of the room. “No. Thank you. It’s just a headache. I’ll lie down until it goes away.”

  A moment later, they heard the front door close. Liz went to the sink and watched J.C. make her way up to her apartment, her steps slow, her shoulders shaking.

  “She’s crying,” Liz said, pressing her fingers against her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make her cry.” She sighed and dropped her hands.
“How did everything get so messed up?”

  Rose set the dishes in the sink. “It got messed up because life is messy. People are fallible. They make mistakes, say things they shouldn’t. And sometimes, they even hold on to a relationship, not because they still want to be with that person, but because there’s unfinished business, unresolved feelings.”

  “My feelings for Brady are firmly resolved.” Liar, a tiny voice inside her head whispered. She filled a glass with water and drank deeply, hoping to dislodge what felt like a pebble in her throat. “I love Carter, not Brady.”

  Rose smiled and patted Liz’s cheek. “I believe you. And once you realize what’s holding you back from fully committing to your husband, heart and soul, everyone else will believe you, too. Including yourself.”

  HIS MOTHER WAS getting married.

  And instead of celebrating with her, her fiancé and their respective families, Brady was hiding upstairs in his father’s office—in Aidan’s office—where he could drink a few beers in peace.

  Lying on the leather sofa, he stared out the window at the starry sky. Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas” floated upstairs, as did the muted sounds of laughter, conversation and general revelry.

  He tipped his bottle of beer at the sky in a mock toast. Welcome to the Sheppards’ annual Christmas Eve party, where more than one hundred of his mother’s closest friends mingled downstairs. After his mother and Al had announced their engagement to wild applause, Brady had done his familial duty for about fifteen minutes before the press of bodies, the noise and smells—floral perfumes, musky colognes and rich, buttery desserts—forced him to find some solitude.

  Sensory overload, he thought, drinking his beer.

  But up here, with the lights off and no one asking him how his physical therapy was going or if he planned on sticking around Jewell now that his options were limited, he could breathe.