by Elena Aitken
“You know what sucks, Missy? People have treated you like trash for so long, you believe it. You buy it. You don’t think you deserve someone who treats you decent, who sees your goodness, who loves you, who wants—”
Her quick intake of breath and wide, shocked eyes made him stop speaking. What? And then it occurred to him. He was yelling at her. For a while now. An ugly ex-con who once beat someone’s brains in was yelling at her. Probably scaring her to death. Scaring Missy. His Missy.
“Hey…” He took a deep breath. “I—I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Mouth still ajar, she stared back at him, saying nothing, so he continued on. “But you know what, Missy? If you can’t trust me, if you can’t even try see yourself the way I see you…? No chance in hell this woulda worked out anyhow.”
He gave her one last look of frustrated longing, but her face was frozen in shock, so he turned and walked back inside, leaving her alone just like she wanted.
Who loves you.
Who loves you. Who loves you. Who loves you.
Who loves…you.
You, Missy.
She stared at the kitchen door in a daze before turning back to the railing and clutching it in her gloved hands. He’d yelled that he loved her. She didn’t care if he yelled at her every day for the rest of her life as long as those were the words he yelled.
He loved her?
She smiled into the darkness at the words that changed everything.
Her ridiculous wish—the wish he’d told her to make on a star last Friday night—had suddenly, unbelievably, come true. She’d clenched her eyes shut that night and before she could stop the thought from forming in her head, she’d heard the words: I wish for someone to love me.
He’d been right, after all.
Wishes do come true at Christmastime.
She took a deep breath of the fresh, cold mountain air, wondering how those blinking Christmas lights in the distance had gotten so much closer in a week. He loved her.
Her smile faded as she thought of the hurt on his beloved face.
She’d been so untrusting, so suspicious. All she wanted, all her life, was to belong to someone who would want her, love her, and when it was finally in front of her, she’d doubted it.
How could she make it up to him? How could she let him know how much she loved him too?
Christmas was the thing I missed the most…
She clapped her hands together, a smile spreading across her face as she stared at the Christmas lights brightening the darkness. She was taking the day off tomorrow whether Stu liked it or not. Heck, she’d quit and go work somewhere else if it came to that. Her first priority was to go back to the Target in Bozeman.
Missy had some serious Christmas shopping to do.
Lucas hated the way they’d left things on Tuesday night, hated that she hadn’t come in to work on Wednesday and hated that today was Christmas Eve and she’d barely glanced at him since walking into work at eleven.
The only thing he was marginally glad about, pathetically, was just being near her at all. But that did little to suppress the deep ache in his heart which left him distracted and breathless and despairing.
He didn’t know what else he could have done to make things right with Missy.
He’d tried to show her how he felt about her. Tried to make it clear that he didn’t care about her past, that he wanted her for her heart first, not just her body. Tried to show her respect and kindness…and look where it had gotten him: broken-hearted and alone.
If he’d never known the way it felt for her to smile into his eyes, for her to touch his face, kiss his lips, tell him that she believed in him, it might have been bearable for him to anticipate Christmas Eve and Day all alone. He might have even accepted the Andersons’ invitation to join them for Christmas dinner and just felt grateful to be included. But he didn’t want to be with anyone but Missy, and if he couldn’t be with her, he’d hole up in his dank room and wait it out. Wait out his first Christmas of freedom since beating up Roy, since his incarceration, since Jody’s death. He’d read or listen to music, or heck, maybe he’d just get drunk. Whatever he did, he’d do it alone, and he’d try not to think about Missy Branson.
“Lucas.”
He jumped at the sound of her voice, surprised that she was behind the warming counter and so close to him. Waitresses weren’t supposed to be in the small work area.
“Where’d you come from?”
“I’ve been here all day.”
She still had her cardigan on, modestly buttoned up with just a bit of her neck showing up top. She still had that black ribbon in her light blond hair too—the one she’d worn on Monday night. It made his heart ache to see it. Why couldn’t she see herself the way he saw her? Why couldn’t she see that she was kind and good and had her whole life in front of her? She didn’t think she was someone worth having. Someone worth staying with. Leave her? Hell, he’d never leave her if she belonged to him. He’d build his whole life around her. But she was so convinced she was worthless she wouldn’t even give them a chance.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she replied softly.
“So?”
“What’re you doing tonight?”
“Nothing,” he answered, turning back to the grill.
“Lucas,” she said again.
“What?” he growled, facing her, angry with her for making him love her only to leave him all alone in it, wanting her, missing her.
She gave him a gentle smile, like his gruff tone didn’t bother her a bit. “Come over at eight.”
Then she turned and walked away.
Chapter 6
Missy wasn’t sure he’d show up. Stu had closed the Blue Moon at three o’clock after the lunch rush, but Lucas had hurried out the back door and she’d missed him. Whether he deliberately tried to avoid her she didn’t know, but she tried not to think about it. She wasn’t able to ask if he was planning to come over or not. But she hoped he would. Lord, how she hoped.
The inside of her house looked like Santa’s Workshop.
She’d spent two paychecks’ worth of savings at Target on Wednesday buying up any and every Christmas decoration that would fit into her small car.
A fully decorated Christmas tree stood in the picture window, which was also roped with multicolored twinkle lights. The mantel over the fireplace was draped with greens, white lights and bright red, blown glass balls that caught the lights and sparkled. Every available table and countertop had a festive music box, Santa or snowman, and a small army of nutcrackers had invaded the china cabinet in the dining room.
She checked her watch: seven-fifty.
After lighting the candles on the coffee table, she pressed play on the CD and DVD players, the latter of which she’d set to mute. The sounds of Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Star Carol” filled her home with gentle music, while on TV, Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sang soundlessly about snow.
She checked on the small tray she’d laid out on the kitchen table: two cups, a small bottle of rum, a jar of nutmeg and a small plate of homemade Christmas cookies. She’d even put a sprig of holly beside the plate, just for a little extra cheer. The eggnog was chilling in the fridge and she could also offer him—
Ding-dong!
Missy jumped a foot, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
He was here. He had come after all.
She smoothed the cream pants she’d worn on Monday night, now coupled with a new red cowl-neck angora sweater she’d bought along with the decorations. She closed her eyes and smiled in relief, opening the front door with a wide smile.
Lucas stood on the doorstep holding a wrapped gift in one hand and a poinsettia in the other. He offered her a tentative smile, as though he wasn’t sure what to expect. She almost sighed aloud, she was so glad to see him, so glad that their quarrel was almost behind them.
“Merry Christmas, Lucas,” she said.
“You got a tree,” he realized, peeki
ng around her. “Can I come in and see it?”
“Yes! Yes, please, come in!” She stepped aside to make room for him in the small front hallway. She was nervous. Goodness gracious, she was so nervous.
He handed her the plant. “It’s for your mom. I didn’t know if she—”
“She’s at church,” said Missy, taking it from him. “She sings in the choir at eight, nine-thirty and midnight on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s a lot of church. None for you?” he asked, grinning as he unwound his scarf from his neck and handed her his jacket.
“I went at four…when the little ones go,” she added, hanging up his coat and trying not to ogle him in new-looking jeans and a pressed white dress shirt. “Make yourself at home.”
When she turned from the closet, he was standing next to the Christmas tree, clutching the wrapped present under his arm.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I love it,” he whispered, staring at the ornaments, reaching out gingerly here and there to touch them.
“That’s good,” she said, standing beside him. “Because it’s yours. It’s all for you.”
“Missy.” He turned slowly, his face pained, his eyes searching, waiting for her to say more.
It would be hard for her to say words she’d never said before. But she had to say them. She had to be sure he knew how she felt about him.
“For Christmas, I wanted to give you, well…Christmas.” She paused a second, hoping that didn’t sound stupid and then deciding it didn’t matter. “Lucas, you’ve said a lot of beautiful things to me, but it’s hard for me to believe you, to really believe that you’d want to be with someone like me…that you could possibly…” Her voice broke and she swallowed again, rubbing her hands together and forcing herself not to look away from him. “Want me. But I’m going to trust you. I promise you I’m going to try. And I just wanted to say…” She blinked back tears. “…for however long you stay, for as long as you’re here in Gardiner, I just want to be with you. Just you, and, I mean, I just wondered if…if you’d let me love you.”
He winced, holding her eyes. His voice was out of breath, strangled. “Let you?”
Missy nodded, taking a step toward him. He placed the present he was holding on the coffee table behind her and pulled her against him, leaning his head into her neck. She could feel his jaw clench and unclench.
“Let you!” His warm breath fanned her skin. “As though you need my permission to love me back when I love you so much it hurts.” His lips grazed her throat and she closed her eyes, looping her arms around his neck. “I’d watch you pack up a little extra food for someone down on his luck, or ooh and ahh over some drawing a little kid colored for you. I’ve seen your patience when people were mean to you, the way you still had a kind word the next time they came by for a meal. I think I’m jealous of that old mutt you feed out back behind the loading dock now and then—the way you speak to him all sweet and scratch behind his ears like he’s still worth something.” He sighed softly. “I barely wasted a wish hoping for something good, even though I wanted it. So when I found it – when I found you, Missy – how could I keep myself from loving you?”
He drew back from her, looking into her eyes, smiling at her like she was the rarest, most precious thing in the world. Then he tilted his head and dropped his lips to hers, making her knees go weak as he held her tightly against his body. When he finally leaned back, his eyes were heavy-lidded, like he was drunk. He grinned at her, shaking his head back and forth like she was amazing to him. That’s how he made her feel, too; by some miracle, Lucas Flynn made Missy Branson feel like she was amazing.
“Thank you for giving me Christmas, Kitten,” he continued. “For giving me your heart. Especially because I know you’re still worried about me leaving.” He tilted his head, looking into her eyes, searching them. “I want to give you your present, too. Is that okay?”
Missy smiled and nodded, taking Lucas’s hand and pulling him down next to her on the couch. He took the large square gift from the coffee table and put it on her lap. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a Christmas present from anyone but her mother. She grinned up at him before tearing away the paper to find…a book.
No, she realized as she turned it over, not a book but an album.
She flipped it open to the cover page. Neatly printed she read: For Missy, on our first Christmas. And on the opposite page: The Best Things About Billings.
When she looked up at him, he was beaming.
“I ran out of work so I could spend a couple hours at the library before they closed. I needed to use the computer there,” he explained.
He reached over and turned the page. On the left side was a picture of the largest theater in Billings.
“That’s the NOVA,” he explained. “They do Broadway shows and operas there.”
“I know it,” she whispered. “I recognize it from pictures.”
On the right side was a picture of a large glass building. “That’s the—”
“The Yellowstone Art Museum,” Missy finished, running her fingers over the pictures he’d printed of the building and various works of art on display there. She looked up at him and smiled, overwhelmed and trembling, her heart beating painfully in her chest.
Lucas turned the page, and she looked down to find a collage of microbreweries on the left.
“More microbreweries in Billings than anywhere else in Montana,” he teased, quoting her fun facts back to her.
On the opposite page was a photo of the Montana Zoo logo, with pictures of the animals, and beside it was a photocopy of a Help Wanted ad. Missy leaned closer to read it. She got to the words Zooschool before looking up at him. His brown eyes were gentle, encouraging, and infinitely loving.
“I called them to see if they were hiring, and well, they don’t need teachers right now. They need an aide, though, Missy. Someone who can help the little ones put on their snowsuits and use the restroom and help out the teacher. I talked to the head, uh, lady there. She was real nice. She said, uh, that they hadn’t found the right person yet.”
The page blurred before Missy as his words sank in.
“You could go to night school, too,” he hurried to add, “if you wanted to. You know, to learn how to be a teacher. You don’t have to settle for this. But you told me if you worked at the Zooschool you’d be happy for the rest of your life. That’s what you told me. And I want you to be happy for the rest of your life, Missy. That’s all I want.”
She bit her lip, speechless, her heart bursting with love for him as he turned the last page. There was a picture of him. Of Lucas Flynn, smiling back at her.
“And one more thing,” he said, as she flicked her swimming eyes up to capture his.
“I do want to leave Gardiner, that’s true,” Lucas admitted. “In a few weeks. A month tops. I want to move to Billings. But I won’t go”—he slid off the couch, dropping to one knee beside her, his heart beating furiously with the enormity of what he was about to do—“unless you agree to come with me.”
He pulled a small box out of his back pocket and opened it. Inside was a silver ring with a sparkling stone on top.
“It’s just a crystal,” he said, as she stared at it, covering her open mouth, tears coursing down her face. “Someday, when I can, I’ll replace it with something better. I’m a hard worker. I promise I’ll work hard for you, Kitten.”
“Oh, Lucas!” she sobbed.
He smiled at her, pulling one of her hands away from her mouth to hold it in his own as he poured out his heart to her.
“I love you, Missy Branson. I love what’s in your heart. I love what’s in your head. At some point soon, I’m going to love your body, too. But it’ll be because I love you. You. I’m not going anywhere unless you’re going with me, because you’re my destination. Wherever you are, I’m home.”
One trembling hand still covered her mouth as she flicked her eyes from the ring back to his face. To the ring and back again.
Her eyes were wide and shocked, and he swallowed uncomfortably. Maybe he hadn’t been clear?
“Missy, I’m asking you to marry me. I—I know that we haven’t known each other all that long, but I bet lots of folks’ve started out with less’n you and me’ve got.” He searched her eyes, knowing in his heart that she was his best chance at happiness. “Way I see it, I even think – you and me? – we’re ahead of the pack. You see the good in me and I see the good in you. And I think that’s enough for a start because we’ll trip over ourselves to take care of each other. We’ve got the good and the loving in spades, Missy.”
She kept staring at him, unmoving except for the slight shaking of the hand over her lips and the tears rolling ceaselessly down her cheeks.
It was making him nervous that she hadn’t responded. He bit his bottom lip, then drew her hand away from her mouth, clasping it gently, captivated by the way it looked, so right, surrounded by his. A lot of good. A lot of loving. And a little hard work.
“We’ll build something good. We’ll work at it. I promise you I’ll work at it every day of my life.” He stopped talking and swallowed, wishing she would answer. His voice was hushed and wishful as he asked one last time. “What do you say? Take a chance on me?”
He heard a small sound, like a sob, come from the back of her throat.
Oh, my God, could I have possibly misjudged her feelings? Could she possibly say—?
“Yes! A hundred times, yes!”
She threw her arms around him, sliding off the couch cushion and falling to her knees beside him as she pressed her lips to his.
Hours later in her bed, Missy snuggled against her fiancé’s chest, tangling her bare legs with his.
He hadn’t looked away—not for a moment—when he’d made love to her. And when he’d climaxed, he declared his love for her again in a gut-wrenching, visceral growl that had made her tighten around him, arching against him as her world exploded into intense pleasure such that she’d never known. Nothing had existed for her except Lucas and the love they bore for one another. Nothing existed but that now.