Miracle Under The Mistletoe (The Foster Brothers #1)

by Tracy Madison

  “Because you haven’t let it.”

  One deep breath in, another out, and she said, “We’re at the end. You have to know that.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know that. What I know is that we are not finished. What I know is that there is still plenty between us. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  The pain in her chest expanded. “You’re not wrong,” she said in a shaky whisper. “There are feelings here. There will probably always be feelings between us, but we can’t—”

  “What?” he demanded. “We can’t what?”

  “Recover. Be the same as we were. Turn back time.” But dear God, she wished they could. She swallowed a sob. “We can’t fix the one thing that needs to be fixed.”

  Every hard edge softened. He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath that must have reached his toes. When he opened his eyes again, she no longer saw frustration. She saw compassion, as well as the same raw pain that met her gaze every time she looked into a mirror. This was what they shared now: pain and loss. And how were they to build anything meaningful, anything positive, with that as their foundation?

  “You’re right. I would do anything—give up anything—to change what happened. But I can’t, sweetheart. You can’t, either. But we—you and I—can forge something new, something different. It will never be the same, but we can be happy again. I believe that, Olly. If you’ll just give us a real chance.” His jaw set in that stubborn line. “Unless… Is there someone else?”

  “No,” she said instantly. “But there never will be for either of us if we’re still married to each other.”

  “I don’t want anyone else,” he said in a growl.

  “Fine! Maybe I do! M-maybe I’m ready to start dating again.” The lie fell easily from her lips, but not so easily from her heart. “Maybe I’m ready to move on.”

  “Then move on with me.”

  He made it sound so easy. As if simply saying yes would magically set everything right. And she—God help her—wanted to say yes. But she’d had more peace in the past nine months than she’d had before he moved out. That made her answer clear and absolute. “I can’t. There is nowhere left for us to go. It’s been three years since we’ve been happy, Grady.”

  “Yup,” he said, surprising her with his agreement. “But in those three years, have we seen a counselor? Have we had an honest conversation about what happened?” He shook his head. “No, we haven’t. Therefore, all alternatives have not been exhausted.”

  “Tell me the past nine months haven’t been a relief?” she countered.

  “They’ve been hell,” he said quietly.

  “Not for me.” This wasn’t the entire truth. She’d missed her husband. At times, had even ached to see him, to hear his voice, to feel his arms close around her at night. But the greater part of her had found relief. Amnesty. A reprieve from the darkness. “I—I don’t need your agreement to file for divorce.”

  “No. You don’t. Oregon is a no-fault state. But that doesn’t mean I won’t put up a fight.”

  “It would be easier if you would agree. I would like it so much better if we were on the same page. I don’t want to fight you,” she admitted in a rush of syllables. “But I can’t stand still anymore. Please understand.”

  “Understand what? That you’re my wife? I love you, Olivia. Doesn’t that mean anything to you now?”

  And she still loved him. She probably always would. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It sucked, and she hated it, but that was the way life worked. “No, Grady. It doesn’t.” She cringed at her tone—at another lie—but backing down wasn’t an option. “I need this. I need to move on, and I can’t do that until we are officially over with.”

  Defeat, followed by a hot blaze of emotion ripped over Grady’s features. “What would Cody say to this? Have you thought about that?”

  His words slammed into her, shaking her bravado and stealing her breath away. “Don’t you do that. Don’t you bring Cody into this.”

  “Oh, come on, Olivia. Let’s be honest with each other about this for once.” Grady clenched his hands into fists. “This is completely about Cody. This has everything to do with Cody. So let me ask you again—what would our son have to say about this?”

  Every iota of calmness she’d managed to maintain evaporated. This was too much. She needed to get away from here—from him. Standing from the table, she grabbed her purse and set an icy glare upon her husband. “I’m going to have Samantha start the paperwork. You might want to consider hiring an attorney.”

  With that, she left the restaurant in slow, measured steps that belied her off-the-charts emotional state. Her entire body quaked as sadness mixed with shock and anger rushed through her. How dare he? Bringing their son into this was wrong.

  She made it to her car without shedding a tear. Knowing Grady was apt to come looking for her, to make sure she was all right and to offer her comfort, she drove down the street a few miles before pulling into another parking lot, this one in front of a grocery store.

  Crossing her arms over the steering wheel, she allowed herself a good, shoulder-shaking cry. God, she missed Grady. But she missed her little boy more. Missed every little thing about him. And that was one reason being around Grady was so difficult. Cody had been the spitting image of his daddy. So when Grady smiled, she saw Cody’s smile. When she looked into Grady’s eyes, she saw her son’s eyes. Even their laughs were the same. The resemblance between father and son kicked her in the gut every time she laid eyes on Grady.

  It didn’t matter that the love she felt for her husband was as real today as it was on the day they married. It didn’t matter how often she woke in the middle of the night and reached for him, only to find herself alone. And it didn’t matter that her entire life felt emptier without him. Because as bad as all those things were, they didn’t compare to losing her child.

  Grady thought she blamed him for the death of their son. Nothing could be further from the truth, not that he believed her. It would be easier if she did blame Grady, she admitted. She’d be able to forgive him. Forgiving herself, though, seemed impossible. It was her fault that her husband and son were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was her fault that they were driving on ice-slicked roads instead of where they should have been: safe and sound at home. She was the one who put off taking Cody to see Santa for weeks, and she was the one who put the bug in Cody’s ear about Daddy taking him to see Santa instead. And when Grady came to her and suggested they go together, as a family, she’d pushed the whole father-and-son-outing idea until he agreed.

  Her selfish want to have a few hours to herself, to relax from all of the shopping, wrapping, baking and decorating had resulted in the loss of everything that meant anything.

  So no, she couldn’t be with Grady. It was too hard. He brought too many memories, too many emotions, to the surface for her to find any type of peace.

  Forty-five minutes later, Grady strode through the cemetery, not stopping until he reached his son’s gravestone. Nearly three years since he’d heard Cody’s laugh, since he’d seen the boy’s brown eyes light up in humor, since his arms had held his child to his chest in a hug. How was that possible? The pain ignited inside as if the loss had occurred yesterday.

  Usually, Grady could set the hollow ache aside and move forward, do whatever needed to be done, and portray a man who lived and breathed and loved. It was only during these moments—when he came to visit Cody’s resting place—that he gave up the charade. There was no reason to pretend here. Not when it was just them.

  He shivered, partly from the memories and partly from the dusting of snow that had fallen earlier all throughout the city. It seemed every recent winter brought more snow than the residents of Portland, Oregon, were accustomed to, but this was the earliest snowfall that Grady could recall. Silly and sentimental, maybe, but it was almost as if Cody were reaching out to him. His son had loved everything about winter.

  Bending at the knees, Grady brushed the light layer
of snow covering the etched letters that spelled out his son’s name. Losing Cody wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, either. But hell, what in life was fair? Things happened. Some of the things were good, some of them were bad, and some of them were so bad that you didn’t think you’d ever recover. Grady almost hadn’t. But you played the hand you were dealt. You found a way to get through, to get a grip, and you carried on.

  Not that carrying on without his son had been an easy task. Far from it. Never had he experienced such a profound loss, and he prayed to whatever God existed that he would never face anything so excruciating again.

  “Hey, kiddo. I’ve been thinking a lot about you today. Every day, really. You’re never far from my thoughts.” Grady’s throat seemed to shrink as he spoke, but he continued to talk, knowing from past experience that as hard as these visits were, they also helped him feel close to Cody. “I saw your mom tonight. You should’ve seen her, son. She looked beautiful.”

  Olivia had worn her dark brown hair loose and long, framing her face, showing off her gorgeous wide-set blue eyes. The second he saw her, he was lost all over again. God, what a fool he was. When Olivia had asked him to dinner, he’d been sure that tonight would be the night he’d been waiting for: the night they’d finally begin to clear the air and move toward reconciliation.

  “I don’t want to give up on her,” Grady murmured into the cold night air. “I promise I’ll keep trying, Cody. Though, I’ll have to give her a few days to calm down. I upset her tonight, son. I didn’t mean to.”

  When Olivia had left Grady alone at the restaurant, it was all he could do not to jump up and follow. He hated not knowing if she was okay. He hated knowing that there were some things he couldn’t shield her from. But he forced himself to stay put. He’d dealt her a low blow by bringing Cody into the conversation. He probably shouldn’t have, but he yearned to talk to Olivia about Cody, to revel in the life of their son together. But the facts were plain. She wasn’t ready. After tonight, he wondered if she ever would be.

  He’d believed that given enough distance—since that seemed to be what Olivia needed—they’d find their way together again. So he’d held his tongue, waited for her to come to him, to say all the words she never had, and hoped that once that happened, they might have a chance at repairing their marriage. But now she’d asked for a divorce. Something that she’d hinted at often enough but had never before said straight-out.

  “I wish…” Grady swallowed the rest of his statement away. He’d like to turn back time, just as Olivia had said, and return to that snowy, blustery day nearly three years earlier. With Christmas only two days away, five-year-old Cody had wanted to visit Santa before the big day. To be honest, Grady hadn’t been in the mood for a trip to the mall. Dealing with mobs of people didn’t sound nearly as much fun as playing in the snow with his son.

  But Cody had looked at him with those big, brown eyes and pleaded in the way that only a five-year-old can. So off they went on a father-and-son outing. Grady would never, for as long as he lived, forget the look of pure joy on Cody’s face when he sat on Santa’s knee. That smile made the crowded mall, the long lines and the grumpy shoppers worthwhile.

  The snow was falling fast and furious when they left, and Grady had a minute—one freaking minute—where he considered hanging out in the food court to give the storm a little more time to work its way through. But he’d worried that it would get worse with night approaching, so he made the decision to get them home. Where it was safe. Where Olivia waited.

  So yes, he’d give anything and everything to revisit that day and spend the hours building snowmen with his son instead of going to the mall. Or left an hour earlier—later—hell, fifteen minutes in either direction might have made the world of a difference, might have put his car somewhere other than in the path of a driver who’d consumed far too many drinks.

  “Stop. It’s done. Nothing to do about that now.” True, that. But knowing something couldn’t be changed didn’t stop a man from wishing it could. He brushed his fingers over his son’s name again, recalling the joy their lives had been together. They were, in nearly all ways, the perfect family. Or, at least, the way a family should be.

  Yep, he’d had it all. The American dream. And now… “Your mom blames me, Cody. She swears that she doesn’t, but I know she does. If she’d just scream at me and quit trying to shield both of us from her feelings, we might stand a chance.”

  Grady even understood why Olivia felt the way she did. He’d likely have had the same demons to fight if their roles were reversed, if Olivia had been at the wheel that day. He understood her blame completely. Hell, he’d yet to stop blaming himself.

  Olivia stood motionless, her eyes glued to the scene in front of her. She wasn’t close enough to hear Grady’s words, but the sight of him kneeling at their son’s gravesite softened everything inside. They hadn’t been here together since that horrible, exhausting day they buried their son.

  She swallowed, trying to ease the pressure in her chest, trying to find a way to feel normal. Even if only for a second. A choked-sounding sob escaped. She barely remembered what normal was. The tenor of Grady’s voice whisked along the November wind, wrapping around her, bringing a strange sort of anonymous comfort.

  How odd that being with him brought her pain, but this—just listening to his voice—eased the panicky, twisty feeling that had existed within her for so long. The safety of distance, perhaps. Or the simple fact that he didn’t know she lurked nearby. Or maybe because she’d finally, after all of this time, made a decision about their marriage.

  None of that mattered at the moment, because all she wanted was to feel normal again. So she didn’t think. She didn’t give herself a second to consider the ramifications, to wonder if she should or if she shouldn’t. She just stepped forward, her eyes resting on the one man—the only man—she’d ever loved. Her shoes crunched in the snow, the sound echoing in the silent night like tiny bursts of fireworks, but Grady didn’t turn his head.

  She kept moving forward, expecting him to hear her, expecting him to stop talking and face her, at any minute. He didn’t. She stopped a few feet from where he knelt, close enough to make out his words, close enough to recognize the husky, emotional quality in her husband’s voice.

  “It’s almost Christmas again, son. Soon, people will be putting up their Christmas trees, decorating their houses with lights. Kids will visit Santa.” Grady’s tone deepened. “I try not to be envious. I try not to think about what we would be doing if you were still with us. But it’s hard.”

  Oh, God. No. She didn’t want to hear this. No, no, no. She took one silent step backward, and then another. But Grady kept talking, each syllable slicing into her like a blade.

  “I saw this train set the other day, and I immediately thought how much you would love it. I had the box in my hands before I remembered…before I realized—”

  She blinked and one tear, and then another, fell. How often had the same thing happened to her? Too often. “Stop,” she whispered. “Please stop.”

  Grady rose to his feet lightning-fast. His arms crushed around her and his mouth pressed against the top of her head. “I didn’t know you were here. I’m sorry, Olly. I’m so sorry you heard…?.”

  She burrowed her head into his chest, knowing she should pull away but unable to find the strength to do so. His arms felt so good around her. She closed her eyes and breathed in his familiar scent, allowing herself a few minutes of comfort.

  He tightened his hold and kissed her hair softly. Gently. She sighed and nestled in deeper, wanting more, wanting everything she’d lost, wanting to be—even if only for one more night—normal. Again, the thought that she should pull back—leave and go home—processed, but her body refused to listen. So she hung on, curled her fingers into the back of Grady’s coat and tugged him closer.

  The twisting sensation in her stomach gave way to warmth. Tendrils of heat teased through her muscles, winding through her body like a vine. Grady’s hand
s pressed against her back, offering her comfort, reminding her of everything they’d once been, of the passion they’d once shared, of the life they’d once had. It was a lot. It was too much to take in, too much to handle with her raw emotions, so she forced her arms to drop and her legs to retreat.

  “I’m sorry I interrupted you,” she mumbled. “I should leave.”

  “No, you shouldn’t.” He held out a hand. “Come here, Olly. Let me hold you.”

  Her logical brain insisted she needed to hightail it out of there, but her body moved forward. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her toward him. She looked up into Grady’s eyes, and before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers.

  And everything else disappeared.

  Chapter Two

  Olivia rolled over in bed and stretched. She reached blindly for Jasper, but instead of the soft, warm fur of her cat, her palm slapped against an empty pillow. Normally, the oversize Siamese perched himself next to her head, anxiously waiting for her to wake up. The second she’d open her eyes, the hungry meows would begin.

  Weird. She couldn’t remember one morning in the last—

  Oh, no! She hadn’t. Had she? Her skin warmed when the prior night’s events invaded her memory. Oh, yes. God help her, yes she had. Grady had kissed her. She’d kissed him back, and then followed him here, to his apartment. More kissing ensued. There were a few glasses of wine in there somewhere, along with the food Grady had brought home from the restaurant, and then more kissing. Her fingers touched her lips. A lot of kissing. A lot of touching.

  Oh, hell. A lot of everything.

  Fire had roared through her blood, she’d wanted him so badly. Still wanted him, if her body’s current reaction was anything to go by.

  And how stupid was that? Panic threaded in when she peeked through half-opened eyes, expecting to find Grady watching her. When she didn’t see her husband anywhere, she opened her eyes fully and sat up, pulling the blankets around her, taking stock.