Maybe This Christmas (23 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
YLER
SLAMMED
THE
front door and hung up his coat.

He waited to be assaulted by the dogs but instead was met by silence. There was no sign of Brenna or Jess.

He was wondering where they were when he heard a burst of laughter coming from the den. The door was closed, presumably to keep the dogs out.

Congratulating himself on finally having imposed rules and discipline on the household and relieved that whatever was bothering Jess at school didn’t seem to be affecting her at home, Tyler walked across the hall and pushed open the door.

“Go away!” Jess screamed and stuffed something back in a bag as Ash sprang up, barking frantically.

Tyler raised his brows. “Always good to have a warm welcome at the end of the day.”

“You can’t come in here!” Jess pushed bags under the sofa. “It’s Christmas, Dad. You have to knock on doors before you enter, not barge in.”

“This is my house. I’m allowed to barge anywhere I want.”

“Presents are supposed to be a secret! Wait there a minute.” There was rustling and muttering and finally Jess mumbled, “You can come in now.”

Accepting that grudging invitation, Tyler opened the door fully and saw Ash and Luna lying on either side of Jess like bookends. “I thought we agreed to keep them out of the den and the living room.”

“This is their favorite room.”

“Funny, because it’s my favorite room, too.” He glanced at Brenna, thinking that she looked every bit as good in skinny jeans and a blue sweater as she did in that black dress.

“We weren’t expecting you home yet, Dad. You said you had a late lesson.”

“She canceled.” His gaze flicked to the screen, and he saw an image of himself on the notorious
Hahnenkamm,
considered to be the most challenging course on the World Cup circuit. He remembered that particular run well. The light had been flat at the top, the visibility difficult. Three racers had fallen.

He turned away. “I assume you haven’t eaten. I’ll cook.”

“I’ll do it.” Jess jumped up. “You hate cooking.”

He hated it a whole lot less than he hated watching himself on TV.

“I’ll cook steaks.”

Ash whined and sprang to his feet, and Jess grinned.

“I swear he knows that word.”

“I’m prepared to cook for humans, but I draw the line at cooking for dogs.” But Tyler stooped and made a fuss of Ash. “You are a bad boy.”

“And you are an expert on
that
subject.” Jess gave him a look. “By the way, I’m staying at Grandma’s tonight.”

“Again?”

“What can I say? She has a tree and her house is Christmassy. Ours is a Santa-free zone, and the fridge is empty again. At this rate, Christmas is going to pass us by.”

Feeling a stab of guilt, Tyler raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow. And we’ll go and get a tree this weekend. We’ll take the snowmobile.”

“It’s probably too late. They’ll all be gone.”

“Jess, we live in a forest.”

“All the good ones will be gone.”

She stalked past him toward the kitchen, and Tyler turned his gaze to Brenna, who was unusually quiet. “Am I missing something here?”

“She’s excited about Christmas. We should decorate the house and get a tree. It’s important.” Without looking at him, she gathered up gift wrap, and he realized he still hadn’t done anything about Christmas gifts.

“So if you were writing to Santa, what would be on your list? What do you want for Christmas?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

“There must be something.” He pressed her. “What would you love more than anything in the world? What do you dream about?”

She sat still, a pair of scissors in her hands and a faraway look on her face.

Then she put the scissors down and finished tidying away the mess. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Yes, you can. There’s something you want, I can tell.” Whatever it was, he wanted to buy it for her. He wanted to give her something she really wanted and see her smile on Christmas morning.

“I’m not really a possessions person. You know that.”

He did know that. What she loved more than anything was being outdoors. She loved being on her skis, enjoying the beauty of the mountains. The forest. But he couldn’t see any way of giving her that as a gift. “Jess wants to decorate the house. Will you help?”

“Of course.” She put the DVDs back on the shelf. “Do you have decorations?”

“Not many. Let’s go to the kitchen and we can talk about it over dinner.”

“I’m tired. I’m going to skip dinner and have an early night.”

Tired? Tyler tried to remember what time she’d arrived home last night and whether that would have given her time to go back to Josh’s house.

“Do you want me to bring you something up? I can heat soup.”

“No, thanks. I’m going to have a long bath and then go to bed.”

Distracted by a disturbing mental vision of Brenna naked in the bath, Tyler backed away and crashed into the door. “If you change your mind, shout.”

* * *

S
HE
TOOK
A
long bath and then lay on the bed with a book on climbing, but instead of reading, she watched the snow settle on the forest, layer upon layer, piling up on branches and obscuring the winding trails around the lake. She heard Jess and Tyler leave to go to his mother’s, and then heard him return alone.

She turned the light out and tried to sleep, but her stomach growled, protesting at her decision to skip supper.

Checking her phone, she saw it was midnight. She’d missed a text from Kayla asking if she was going to join them at the main house for “girls’ breakfast.” Realizing it was days since she’d spent any time with her friends, she was about to text back and then remembered Kayla’s habit of never switching her phone off. The last thing she wanted to do was wake her and Jackson in the middle of the night.

She slid out of bed and stood for a moment, looking out the window. The snow gleamed, ghostly white. The frozen surface of the lake shimmered under the light of the moon.

Pulling on a sweater, she walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the beautiful living room with the huge glass windows that faced over the lake and the mountains.

She’d thought she could never love anywhere as much as Forest Lodge, but she’d been wrong. Lake House was perfect and Tyler, for all his apparent lack of interest in anything but skiing, had style.

The house was still and quiet, and she curled up on one of the deep, comfortable sofas and stared at the snow falling against the darkness of the night, thinking about Christmas. Thinking about the times she’d hovered near bunches of mistletoe, hopeful, thinking maybe, maybe this Christmas he’d finally kiss her.

He’d asked what she wanted as a gift, but she had everything she wanted except one thing.

Him.

She watched as the snow erased all traces of the day before. Animal tracks would be covered, branches coated in thick dollops of snow, the trails around Snow Crystal hidden under the heavy cloak of winter. This was how she loved it, smooth and untouched, before the snowplows came to clear the roads and tracks, before the sun coaxed the snow into submission.

Deciding that hot chocolate might help her sleep, she walked through to the kitchen and then noticed a flicker of light coming from Tyler’s den.

Assuming someone had forgotten to turn off the TV, Brenna walked across and pushed the door open.

Tyler lay sprawled on the sofa.

Brenna was about to creep out again when she noticed what was on the screen. It was footage of the downhill race when he’d fallen.

It was the one recording she’d never been able to watch.

She’d been there. She’d lived through the actual event. It had been the worst moment of her life.

She wanted to turn away but was afraid to move in case she drew attention to herself, so she stood, forced to relive it. His name flashed up on the screen: Tyler O’Neil, USA. She saw him preparing to launch himself out of the start gate, and her heart started to pound. She wanted to tell him not to do it. To skip this race.

Growing up, she’d often thought that what Tyler did on the slopes was closer to flying than skiing, and he seemed to be flying now as he sailed out of the gate and straight into a tuck as he took the jump that claimed so many skiers. Not Tyler. If it hadn’t been for the fact she knew what was coming, Brenna would have thought he was on his way to a faultless run.

He’d always claimed his aim was to get from the top to the bottom in the fastest time possible, and he made good on that claim, hurtling down the slope as if his skis were jet propelled.

Halfway down the course, Brenna held her breath because she knew this was the moment. She wanted to look away. She wanted to close her eyes because she knew what was coming, but she kept watching and for the first time saw the accident through the eyes of the camera. Saw the moment his body lifted into the air and tumbled, spinning, crashing until it seemed impossible anyone could survive it.

She didn’t think she’d made a sound but she must have done because Tyler turned his head.

For a few moments he said nothing, and then he stirred.

“I didn’t know you were there.” His voice was rough at the edges, and she felt as if she was trespassing. Not on his territory, but on something far more personal. His private thoughts and feelings. He hadn’t intended to share this part of him with another person. If he had, he wouldn’t have waited until the dead of night to watch it alone in the dark.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? And why the hell are you crying?”

Was she crying? She hadn’t even known. Embarrassed, Brenna lifted her hand and scrubbed at her cheek with her palm, feeling the wetness of tears against her hand.

“I haven’t watched it before.” Her voice sounded clogged. “I couldn’t. It was the worst moment of my life. I thought you were dead.”

“It didn’t feel too great from where I was, either.” His flippant tone sent her over the edge.

“Why do you always dismiss it? I know you’re hurting. You don’t have to pretend and keep it all locked inside. Maybe it would help to talk about it.”

“Nothing helps. I watch that damn footage over and over again trying to work out what happened that day. One moment I was on my way to winning, the next I was being lifted into a helicopter.”

“You’ve watched it before?”

“Hundreds of times. In slow motion. It doesn’t get any easier.”

She sank down onto the sofa next to him. “I—I didn’t know. I thought you never watched yourself.”

“I watch this run.” His tone was bleak, and she reached out and put her hand on his thigh. She felt solid muscle under her palm, felt that muscle flex and tense under her fingers. The atmosphere in the room shifted, and she started to move her hand away, but he covered it with his own, his fingers warm and strong as he held her hand there and took the comfort she offered.

This was new territory.

It was a topic neither of them had touched upon before, but their relationship no longer felt familiar. Everything had changed, and they both knew it. His confession. Her reaction.

The intimacy.

“Is it very hard for you?”

There was a brief pause, and his fingers tightened. “It’s agony.”

Although he never mentioned it, she knew from Sean that the cold made the pain worse. “Can I fetch you painkillers?”

“I wasn’t talking about my leg. I’ve learned to live with that. The other, not so much.” Still holding her hand, he stretched out his long legs and leaned back against the sofa with his eyes closed. “Pathetic, that’s me.”

She studied the strong lines of his face. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone less deserving of that accusation than you. I’m sorry you’re hurting.” She knew words were inadequate, but she said them anyway. “I’m sorry this time of year is so hard for you. I wish I could do something. I wish I could fix it.”

“It can’t be fixed.” And then he started to talk, telling her things he’d never told her, about how he struggled with calls from his teammates, how it felt to know they were still living that life, how they wanted him to fly over and join them in drinking sessions and how he couldn’t face being on the fringe of something when he used to be in the center. He talked about regret, disappointment, frustration and she sat in the dark without interrupting, holding his hand tightly as he bared his feelings.

Finally, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I can’t believe I told you all that.”

“I’m glad you did.” Wondering if he realized he was still holding her hand, she eyed the whiskey bottle. “Does that help?”

“I’ll let you know in an hour or two. Join me? I can fetch another glass.”

“No need.” She reached out with her free hand, sloshed some whiskey into his glass and raised it. “You were the best, Tyler O’Neil. But you’re also a brilliant coach. You may not be able to compete yourself, but you can help others do it. Starting with Jess. Are you enjoying teaching her or is it hard seeing her do what you used to do?” She took a sip and coughed. “That might be worse than tequila.”

He took the glass from her. “I’m enjoying teaching her, and I get a real buzz from seeing her improve. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give anything for a chance to win one more crystal globe.”

“Why? All you’d do is push it to the back of the cupboard with the others.”

He finished her drink. “I don’t want to look at it.” He thumped the glass down on the table. “I just want to win it.”

It was a totally Tyler-like response. “Sometimes I don’t understand you.”

“You understand me perfectly. You’re probably the only person who does.” His voice was rough, and his grip on her hand was hard and sure. Then he turned his head, and his gaze collided with hers. “Don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

The breath caught in her throat. “Whenever you hurt, I hurt. Whatever you feel, I feel. It’s horrible, but I can’t help it. I guess I’ve known you too long. It’s as if we’re connected.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I’ve spilled my guts, so now it’s your turn. Tell me why you went on that date with Josh.”