by Beth Andrews
Too bad Ruth had gotten up at four demanding to open her presents. Scott and Dee Dee had held off as long as they could but here it was, barely five a.m. and the presents had all been unwrapped.
Luke just wanted to go home and go back to bed.
He couldn’t. His sister Amanda and her husband, Jeff, along with Rainie and Lila, would be over for breakfast a little bit later.
Ruth had ripped through her presents then demanded more, putting a damper on Dee Dee’s Christmas spirit as she took her cranky daughter into the dining room to explain the true meaning of the holiday. Luke and Scott’s parents were in the kitchen starting breakfast, but Luke hadn’t felt like offering to help, opting instead to stay in the living room and watch Jacob toddle around and try to eat everything that wasn’t nailed down.
“I mean you’re awful cranky for a kid who got a brand-new smartphone and a laptop for Christmas,” Scott said.
Thirteen years older than Luke, Scott was always ragging on him about how spoiled he was compared to how tough he and their sister had had it growing up. It was like having three sets of parents: his own, Scott and Dee Dee and Amanda and Jeff.
One set was more than enough.
“I’m fine,” Luke muttered. “And considering your wife got you that flat-screen smart TV, you shouldn’t be bitching.”
As if magically tuned to words he wasn’t supposed to hear, Jacob stopped eating paper and brightened. “Bitchin’! Bitchin’!”
“Scott Sapko!” Dee Dee yelled from the other room—bionic hearing must run in the family.
“It wasn’t me,” Scott yelled back, having no problem throwing Luke under the bus. “It was Luke.”
“Luke!”
This time it was their mom yelling.
Luke just sank lower into the couch. Scott offered him a cup of coffee. “Here. You look like you need this. Now, tell me what’s the matter?” he asked, crumpling wrapping paper into a ball. “Stay up too late waiting for Santa?”
“Nothing’s the matter,” Luke grumbled.
“You’re moping around, acting like your best friend moved away.” Scott threw the paper ball at his son, hitting him in the head lightly. Jacob laughed and ran to pick up the paper. That kid was easily amused. “Which means it must be girl problems.”
Luke sipped his coffee. He wasn’t crazy about the beverage, unless it was mixed in a caramel macchiato, but he could drink it. And Scott was right about one thing, he hadn’t slept well. Hadn’t been able to get the image of Gracie and Drew out of his mind.
He opened his mouth to tell his brother he didn’t have girl problems but what came out instead was, “Gracie slept with Drew.”
Scott, in the middle of throwing more paper balls at his son, turned and looked at Luke in surprise. “Gracie? The hippie?” Luke nodded, his mouth pressed together. Scott tossed the paper high in the air, Jacob laughed and held his hands out to catch it. It hit his head and bounced onto the floor. “I’m sorry, kid,” Scott said, giving Luke’s shoulder a squeeze. “I never would have pegged her for someone who’d mess around on a boyfriend.”
Scott knew all about Kennedy and Drew. He even knew that Luke and Kennedy had had sex. Luke trusted him not to tell their parents, but Scott was the one who’d told him to always use protection and not to use a girl just to get off.
Maybe having three sets of parents wasn’t so bad after all.
“I’m not her boyfriend,” Luke said. “I mean, I wasn’t when she and Drew...when they...” God, he couldn’t even say it. “It happened last fall, when we were juniors. I just found out about it last night at the dance.”
Scott rubbed his unshaven chin. “You’re upset that a girl you like now, was with another boy a year before you even started dating her, when you had a different girlfriend?”
“It’s not like that. I mean, yeah, I like her. I did like her. But she lied to me.”
“You asked her if they’d hooked up and she denied it?”
“No,” Luke said. “But she didn’t tell me. She should have told me.”
“Why?”
Luke blinked then stared at his brother. What kind of question was that? “Because...because she knows how I feel about her and she knows how I feel about Drew after what happened with him and Kennedy.”
“Maybe that’s why she didn’t tell you. Because she didn’t want you to judge her or get mad at her.”
Luke sank down farther into the couch. Pretty soon he’d be under the damn cushions. “She should have told me.” Now he just looked like an idiot, chasing a girl who’d been with Drew. Who’d been with Drew first.
“So let me get this straight,” Scott said, “you’re mad at Gracie for having a life before you decided you liked her?”
When he put it that way, it sounded stupid. “I’m mad that she kept it from me.”
And he had a right to be. Didn’t he?
“Kid, I hate to break it to you, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. People live their lives without your input each and every day. Is she still hung up on Drew?”
“I don’t know,” Luke grumbled.
“Ah.”
He glared at his brother. “Ah, what?”
“You’re scared she has a thing for Drew and not you.”
Luke wanted to deny it but the truth of it hit him full force. What if she did have a thing for Drew? And even if she was over Drew, what about Bryce? What if she chose him over Luke? Why shouldn’t she—he hadn’t exactly given her a reason to want to be with him, had he? He’d gone back to Kennedy after Gracie admitted she liked him, then kept his own feelings to himself for months. And last night, he’d been really mean to her. Had said some ugly things. His words came back to him full force, how she’d looked as he’d said them and his stomach turned. “Shit,” he whispered.
“Shit,” Jacob whispered as he tore apart the paper ball. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Scott just shook his head at his son. “Look, the truth is, you’ve always had it easy. Good looks—like your brother—that famous Sapko charm, brains, athletic ability. But when the going gets tough, when it seems as if you might lose, you give up. You quit playing hockey because you got a new coach and he was making you work harder than you’d had to work before. I think the real reason you went from wanting to play professionally, from living and breathing the sport, to abandoning it, was that you were scared when the time came, you wouldn’t make the cut.”
Luke didn’t want to admit it, but his brother was right. He’d been afraid he wasn’t good enough for the travel hockey teams, the ones where the best guys ended up playing for the minor hockey league teams. And now he was scared of Gracie choosing another guy over him. Of her not wanting him.
“What do I do?” Luke asked him.
“Well, grasshopper, since you’re smart enough to ask for my sage advice on how to win back a female and gain her forgiveness, let me share my wisdom with you.” Scott nudged Luke’s head with the flat of his palm. “Grovel. If she’s worth it, you need to grovel as hard as you can, for as long as it takes.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DAPHNE WOKE SLOWLY, her body loose and warm and well-used. Though they hadn’t gone through all three condoms, they had made love a second time during the night, their bodies moving slowly, taking their time to get to know each other. And when he’d moved inside of her, their gazes locked, their bodies slick with sweat, she’d felt so complete, so cherished, as if she was something special.
If that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was.
She stretched, the sheet sliding down her naked body. She reached for Oakes but found his side of the bed empty. Her eyes opened and she frowned at his dented pillow, the bed cool where he’d once been. Apparently he’d been up for a while though the clock on the nightstand said it was just after five.
Panicked, a
fraid he’d left for his early flight home, she bolted upright only to sigh in relief. He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, his feet and chest bare, a pair of jeans on, his hair messed. She smiled at him.
He didn’t smile back.
That wasn’t good. He was already thinking, regretting what had happened between them.
“Merry Christmas,” she said softly.
He nodded. Her stomach dropped. No, this wasn’t good at all.
Using the back of her hand, she brushed her hair from her eyes. “Are you all right?”
She hadn’t wanted to ask because asking would only open them up to recriminations. But she hated seeing him so tormented. So unhappy.
Leaning forward, he linked his hands between his knees. “What happened last night...”
“Oh, no.” She scrambled to her knees, dragging the sheet up to cover herself. “Don’t you dare tell me that what happened between us was a mistake or that you regret it.”
He lifted his head, met her eyes in the dim light from the lamp on the table. “I don’t regret it.”
She believed him. How could she not? This was Oakes. Honest and honorable Oakes.
And she knew, he was about to break her heart.
“You don’t regret it,” she repeated, “but you still think it was a mistake.”
“It was.”
Did he have to sound so weary? Speak to her so gently as if she was a child and not the woman he’d made love to last night? Frustrated, she yanked the sheet around her and climbed to her feet. “It wasn’t a mistake,” she insisted. “It was what we both wanted. How can it be wrong?”
“Not wrong,” he hedged, “just not...something that should have happened. I’m attracted to you, Daphne. You’re beautiful and smart and funny.”
Tears clogged her throat and she cleared them away. “If I’m so wonderful, why don’t you want to be with me?”
He flinched, either at her straightforward question or the thickness of her voice, she didn’t know which. He stood and crossed to her, taking her hands in his. “You’re a remarkable young woman. You have your entire life ahead of you. And someday, you’ll meet a man who can give you everything you want. Everything you deserve.”
She went cold all over. He didn’t want her. “I don’t want any other man,” she told him, giving him her heart. Giving him the truth. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you, Oakes.” When he tried to step back, she held his hands tighter. “Don’t you see? It’s always been you. You’re the reason I couldn’t marry Ricky.”
Oakes frowned and pulled free of her hold. “What are you talking about? You said Ricky broke up with you.”
“I just... I knew if I told the truth, everyone would want to know why I broke things off. It was you,” she told him, praying she could get through to him. That he’d choose her, put her first in his life. In his heart. “I couldn’t marry him because I couldn’t let go of my dream of being with you. Don’t you see? Each step we’ve taken in our lives has led us to this moment. To each other.” Gripping the sheet with one hand, she laid her other on his chest. Held his gaze. “I love you, Oakes.”
He shook his head, denying her words. Her declaration.
Rejecting her.
“You don’t love me.”
It wasn’t just what he said, but how he said it. As if he was some teacher, giving her a lesson. She dropped her hand, her fingers trembling. “Don’t you dare try and tell me what or how I feel. I know how I feel. God, I know myself better than you know yourself. Do you think I jumped into this blindly, without thought? Well, I didn’t. I’ve had feelings for you since I was seventeen years old. But I didn’t act on them. I even waited for them to go away, but they never did. They got stronger.”
“You had a crush—”
Hurt, infuriated, she shoved him. Hard. Enough to have him backing up a step. “Don’t.” Her voice shook. With anger. With tears. “Don’t you dare reduce my feelings to some childhood infatuation. I love you. And you love me, too. You have to.”
Why couldn’t he admit it? Didn’t he know she needed the words? That she needed him to love her.
“Daphne, I do love you,” he said. “You know that.”
But the way he said it, his tone gentle and regretful, was wrong. All wrong. He wasn’t a man declaring his feelings for the woman he loved.
He was a man telling a good friend that he cared about her, but that it would never be anything more.
“You’re not going to pick me,” she whispered, her heart aching, her stomach turning. “Are you?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “I can’t. We can’t pretend there’s nothing in the way. Zach. Your mother. My mother.” He shook his head. “It’s too much for me.”
Too much for him? And she wasn’t enough. She’d never be enough.
Another man leaving her—the only man she wanted.
No, she thought, embracing her anger, shoving aside the hurt—the pain she could concentrate on later. She was the one doing the leaving this time. She picked up her purse, not bothering with her clothes and shoes and coat, and shoved past him.
He grabbed her arm. “Daphne, we should talk about this.”
She looked into his eyes and her heart simply broke. “You can’t fix this,” she told him. “You can’t make it all right. I won’t forget the choice you made here today, Oakes.” She wrenched free and opened the door, stopped, and forced herself to meet his eyes. “I put everything on the line for you. I put myself out there for you and you still turned your back on me. That makes me a fool, but it makes you a coward.”
She stepped out into the hallway and shut the door behind her.
* * *
LUKE SHOVED HIS hands into his coat pockets and waited on Gracie’s front porch. If her stepmother, Molly, thought it strange that he was there just after noon on Christmas day, she didn’t say anything, but she did raise her eyebrows when he told her he’d wait for Gracie out here instead of inside.
That decision, he thought as he hunched his shoulders because the wind had picked up, may have been a mistake. But he’d known that once he stepped inside, her six little brothers would have surrounded him, giving them no chance to be alone.
Finally, the door opened and there she was, Gracie, frowning at him, her arms crossed defensively, her hair loose, all curly and huge around her face. “Luke,” she said in a flat tone he hated hearing from her, “what are you doing here?”
“Uh...merry Christmas,” he blurted, trying to smile but knowing it probably looked strained.
“Merry Christmas,” she told him begrudgingly. “Is that why you’re here? Because you could have texted that, you know.”
“I—I wanted to see you,” he said. “Could you—could you come out? Just for a minute,” he added quickly.
She sighed and stepped out onto the porch and he saw his mistake immediately. She didn’t have any shoes on, just thick, wool socks over a pair of gray leggings. And she wore a dress, one with a high neckline and tight, long sleeves.
“Here,” he said, shrugging out of his coat. “You must be freezing.”
She stiffened when he reached around her to put his coat over her shoulders—at least she didn’t refuse it. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? His hands shook so badly—from the cold, he tried to tell himself, but his inner voice laughed at that and he knew it was nerves—it took him two tries to zip the coat.
When he stepped back—now he was freezing—he couldn’t help but smile, she looked so cute in his coat, the sleeves hanging well past her hands. “My family is waiting for me,” she reminded him, still using that tone that gave the cold weather a run for its money.
“Right. Sorry. I’m just... I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. But if you could tell me why you’re here—”
“No, I mean, that is w
hy I’m here. To apologize for—for what happened at the dance. For what I said.” He held her gaze. “Gracie, I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it, I swear.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Funny, because it sure sounded like you meant it. You humiliated me in front of my friends, in front of half of the school. You basically called me a whore and a liar.”
He felt sick, remembering what he’d said. Seeing the hurt in her eyes now. “I was wrong. I was just... I was jealous,” he blurted, his face heating. “God, Gracie, I was so jealous, thinking of you with Drew. It made me crazy. It still does, to be honest. The idea of you two...together...” He swallowed. “I was an idiot. A complete asshole. I had no right to judge you like that. Could you...do you think you could ever forgive me?”
He held his breath, terrified she’d say no. She was one of the strongest, most self-assured people he knew. She didn’t need him in her life. But he needed her in his.
Wanted her in his.
“Please,” he said, stepping closer. “Please, Gracie.”
She studied him and he kept his expression open, his eyes on hers, let her see what was in his heart. “Why?”
He blinked. “Why what?”
“Why is it so important to you that I forgive you?”
“Because I was wrong.” He edged even closer. “Because I hurt you and I hate that I did. Because I can’t stand the thought of not having you in my life.”
“So you want us to be friends again?”
“No. I don’t want to be your friend, Gracie. I like you. I’ve liked you for months and I’m sorry I keep messing up. That I rushed you in your bedroom, that I acted like such a jerk about you and Drew. But I want to be more than friends.” He took a chance and lifted his hand, brushing a loose curl back. Leaving his fingers to trail against her cheek. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realize it, but I love you, Gracie. And I hated the thought of you being with anyone else, especially Drew, but more than that, I hated the thought that you...cared...about him so much that you’d...that you and he...”