You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology (49 page)

Her throat knotted. “You’ve never been worthless, Kurt. Never. Never. I’m so sorry I—”

He placed his hand over her mouth. Gently this time. “I think you’ve said that enough, sweetheart. All I needed to know was that you were sorry you left me and ready to try again. Now let that go, Kai. You suffered enough, without spending the rest of your life beating yourself up for how hard the suffering was for you to handle on top of it.” His gaze ran from her face to her belly, and he hesitated, but then he curled his hand gently over her abdomen, pulling her in for a careful hug with his hand protecting her womb. “Forgive yourself,” he whispered to her hair. “Kai, sweetheart, not one single thing that happened was your fault. Not one—single—thing. Remember that, honey.”

Her mouth twisted, bittersweet and weary, but with that whisper of hope. “You sound like my support group.”

“Good, then, I’ve gotten one thing right.”

She buried her face against his chest. “Forgiveness hurts,” she admitted very low.

His hand rubbed her hair heavily. “It all hurts, honey. I would take it from you, if I could. But all I can do—all I’ve ever been able to do—is my best to share it.”

I love you so much
, she thought into his chest. But the hurt of the words this time was a sweeter, gentler ache, as if a mass of toxins that had gotten caught in the idea of
love
had been squeezed out and rinsed clean. She stepped back enough to look into his face and touch his cheek. “Kurt. Don’t beat yourself up either. You did everything you could. I just wish—I hadn’t hurt you so much. I still don’t understand how you can be willing to try again, when you know how unhappy it can be.”

He shook his head. “Kai. What did you think it meant, when I said I loved you? That love was just this bright, happy thing?”

She hesitated and shrugged a little, opening her hands. Kind of, yes.
Wasn’t
that what it was? Brightness and happiness? Or at least what it was supposed to be?

His hand curved around her face. “So did I, maybe,” he said quietly. “But when it wasn’t so bright or happy—that didn’t mean I wanted to let it go.”

Her eyes filled.

“Or let you go,” he said very softly.

The tears spilled over.

“Kai.”

“I just still don’t understand,” she whispered. “How you can love me even now. There’s a whole huge part of me that doesn’t believe you can ever love me, ever again. Not really. How could you?”

His thumb traced one of her tears away. “Because you didn’t know I could still love you, when you weren’t laughing, when you were ugly and desperate, when your life was hard?”

She shook her head, crying openly now. No, she hadn’t known that. She still didn’t understand it.

“Well.” He bent and kissed her, tasting the tears off her lips. “Now you do.”

The End

Copyright © 2013, Laura Florand

Thank you so much for reading
Snow-Kissed
! For more stories from me, check out my website:
lauraflorand.com

And make sure to sign up for me email of new releases here:
lauraflorand.com/newsletter

And for some more glimpses of Kai and Kurt, check out
Sun-Kissed
, the story of Kurt’s mother:

They called her the Ice Queen.

Anne Winters. Self-made billionaire. Household name. Divorced single mom. Convicted felon. She didn’t let anyone or anything get to her. No one was allowed to breach the walls around her heart except for her own son. She had only one trusted friend: her vacation house neighbor. They’d been walking the beach together for twenty years. Not that this gave him access to her
heart
, of course…

They called him a man who got what he wanted.

Mack Corey. Self-made billionaire. Dominant world player. Widowed father of the bride. No felony convictions yet, although his daughters had come close. He’d transformed his family company into one of the top 500 by the age of thirty. He’d raised two daughters who dumped him for idiot arrogant French chocolatiers and went off to live in Paris. Hell, he even managed to tolerate his dad. But that Ice Queen act Anne Winters had going was really starting to get to him…

They’d been best friends for twenty years. Could they become lovers?

Could a frozen heart be kissed by the sun?

Available now!

by

M. O’Keefe

(previously published in the Sweet Talk Anthology benefiting Diabetes research)

Growing up in the mountains of Wyoming Trina and Dean had been childhood friends until the bitter feud between their families drove them apart. When the magic of Christmas Eve tips the star-crossed lovers together year after year, will they be able to make sure this holiday is not their last?

M. O’Keefe
can remember the exact moment her love of romance began—in seventh grade, when Mrs. Nelson handed her a worn paperback copy of
The Thorn Birds
.

Writing as USA Today Bestselling author Molly O’Keefe, she has written thirty novels, won two RITA awards and three RT Reviewers’ Choice Awards. Her books have been on numerous “Best Of” lists including Publisher’s Weekly, Kirkus and NPR. She lives in Toronto, Canada, with her husband and two kids.

December 24, 2001

8:05 PM

I
t was snowing.
An icy, dry snow, and in the porch light the drifts on the steps in front of Trina Crawford looked like piles of diamonds.

Oh, if only…

Trina pulled her gloved hands into her pink coat and blew into the sleeves. The blast of heat from her breath was a quickly fading comfort. So was the thought of diamonds.

Nothing is going to help me. Nothing.

“Enjoying the view?”

The voice made her jump. It wasn’t her mom’s voice, which was the one she wanted to hear, but it was a really nice voice all the same.

“Dean?”

“In the freezing flesh.”

Dean McKenzie came out of the dark at the edge of the house, wearing his serious snow gear. He must have driven an ATV the back way over the creek that ran along the border between their families’ properties.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, though she didn’t really care
why
he was here. It was like taking a sip of water only to realize how totally thirsty you are.

Seeing Dean was like that. She was never lonely until he showed up.

“My mom said your mom left. I figured you might want some company.” That was pity on his face. He tried to hide it, because he was her friend and he knew she hated pity, but she could still see it.

“She’s coming back.” Trina had to say that. She had to believe it. Otherwise it was just her and her dad forever, and she couldn’t wrap her head around a future so crappy.

“Totally.” He nodded, definitively on her side as he had been for the sixteen years they’d been friends. “But maybe…you want some company?”

“That’d be awesome.” She shifted over on the blanket she’d placed between her numb butt and the wooden porch.

“I brought you some supplies.”

“Supplies.”

“Yeah, you know. Stakeout supplies.”

“You think me sitting here is a stakeout?”

“Sit-in?” He collapsed next to her. “Strike?” Their arms touched for a moment, and even through the layers of their coats she could feel his arm—or thought she could—and that was enough to make her twitch away.

Jenny at school said that she and Dean broke up because Dean was secretly in love with Trina. Which was ridiculous. They were neighbors. Friends. And not at all into each other. Not like that.

And besides, their dads would KILL them. Like kill them dead. If they ever got together.

In fact, it would make her father so angry she actually considered dating Dean, just to watch Dad register any kind of emotion in her direction.

“Well,” Dean said. “Whatever it is. You need some food.” He handed her a plastic bag full of fancy party food: shrimp (gross!), olives (yay!), little cubes of cheese. Toothpicks sticking out of some of the stuff had pierced the bag, and olive juice was everywhere. “And I hope you’ll notice, I remembered you’re a vegetarian and didn’t bring you the elk sliders. Even though they were awesome.”

“This is so nice, thank you,” she said, ignoring the shrimp.

“And here’s something to drink.”

He opened the thermos in his hand and steam poured out. Hot chocolate and something minty. Probably schnapps.

Even better.

“Thanks.” She took a sip, and the heat and the booze burned down her throat.

“Where’s your dad?” Dean asked, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He opened the neck of his snowmobile suit and she saw a glimpse of a black tie.

He’d come right from the party. With olives. It was such a nice thing. Like…maybe one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her.

“Inside.”

“Really?” For a second he looked panicked. Seriously, that’s how ridiculous it was between their fathers.

“Don’t worry, he’s passed out in the den. After he and Mom fought, he didn’t stay awake long enough to watch her go.”

“She’s left a lot of times before.”

She didn’t have to say that this one felt different. It was Christmas Eve, after all. What kind of mom would drive away on Christmas Eve unless she meant it?

More booze seemed in order. Lots more booze. The heat and alcohol didn’t burn this time. She could feel it spreading through her body, a stream of light warming her fingers and knees and the tip of her nose. “She told me I was old enough now. That when I graduate in May, I can leave. Just like her. And never come back.”

“Nice.”

She laughed at his sarcasm. “Parents of the year, I tell you.” A coyote howled, and they both turned toward what was left of the McKenzie property, which ran on the other side of the creek.

“Your dad worried about that coyote?” he asked.

“I have no idea.” Her dad never told her anything. He used to talk to Dean about that stuff. Coyotes and high pastures and grazing yields. Dean had once been the son her father never had. “You know, I never told you how sorry I was that he fired you.”

“Sure you did. Like eight hundred times.”

“Well, I’m still sorry.”

“It was ages ago,” Dean said. Dean’s family had sold off most of their herd, and Dean had been working summers for Dad since the minute he’d been able to sit on a horse and drive an ATV. Which was roughly about five minutes after being born.

“It was two summers ago,” she reminded him. It had been during the bright white-hot months of the fight between their fathers. “And it sucked.”

“It did. I liked that job.”

“Sometimes I think you were born in the wrong century.” She was loose from the booze and no food.

He gave her side-eyes.

“I mean it in a good way,” she clarified. “Like you would have been so happy in the old west, where there were tons of jobs on the land and you could just ride your horse and sleep under the stars and eat beans.”

He laughed. “Well, I hate beans, but the rest of it sounds good. But there’s still plenty of work to do in this century.”

“What are you going to do this summer?”

“I have pre-acceptance at Laramie Tech. Land Management.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” she cried.

He could blame his pink cheeks on the wind or the cold, but she knew the truth. And the truth was that big, bad, tough guy Dean McKenzie—blushed. “Well, it’s not Stanford—”

“Stop,” she whispered. “Don’t do that. That’s exactly the program you wanted, and you worked hard to get there. It’s awesome. What did your dad say?”

“That it was a miracle.” Dean kicked snow off the toe of his boot. Trina’s Mom once said that Dean and his dad, Eugene, fought like cats in a bag. And it was true, they couldn’t be in the same room without turning on each other.

Dean didn’t want what his father had. Not the money or the power. None of it. And Eugene could not understand that and so the fights were epic.

Sometimes Trina didn’t know who had it worse, her with her father and their long icy silences or Dean and his dad who clashed and fought and exploded against each other all the time.

It was a crappy toss-up.

“Screw him.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Dean tipped the flask to his lips and took a long pull. “Luckily, Laramie is far away and I’ll never have to come back here if I don’t want to.”

“Hear, hear,” she said, and took a swig when he handed the flask back to her.

The wind blew past the porch, and she couldn’t control her full-body shiver.

“You’re freezing,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she lied. But Dean got up off the blanket and wrapped the part he’d been sitting on around her. And then he tugged her against his chest, her cheek against the scratchy fabric of his camouflage snowmobile suit.

Her eyes went wide. She held her breath, both trying and not trying to feel his body beneath the layers between them. But she felt stupid and awkward. Heavy and stiff, like she’d suddenly turned into a mannequin.

She tried to pull away, because she didn’t know how to do that—how to lean back against Dean like it meant nothing. Because she didn’t know what she wanted it to mean. Or if it meant something to him.

Basically, she just didn’t lean back against guys.

“Just…relax,” he muttered, pulling her close, holding her still.

She sighed and did as he asked. In stages, she just let him hold all her weight and all the worry on her back, and after a while, after all the awkwardness faded away, it just felt really good. To just let him hold her up. He was big. He was strong.

He could handle it.

Dean was the one person in her life with whom she didn’t have to hide all her garbage.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said, staring up at the snow falling from a coal-black sky.

“Yep.”

“Won’t your family miss you? I mean the party?”

“The McKenzie Christmas Eve Extravaganza will go on just fine without me. Besides, Josh is home.”