by Carson, Mia
Xena lay close by in the doorway, watching as she always did. Mel knew the dog missed Robert as much as she did, but she dealt with it a hell of a lot better. This room had been one of Robert’s first projects when they’d bought the place, and she was tearing it out, piece-by-piece, to make it her own and let go of his memory.
She gripped her box knife and moved to the next wall, cutting along the edge of the baseboard to give it a good start for when she followed with the putty knife. As she glided along the wall, time spent in this dining room—just her and Robert—flooded her mind. Their laughter echoed in her ears with the memory of all the dinners they’d cooked together, enjoyed together, and the whiskey they drank and the wine. The night he hummed to her as they danced around the room a night before he would leave for his final trip overseas… And he never came back.
“Shit!” She gasped in pain as she tugged too fast on the knife and it slipped, cutting into her other hand she’d carelessly rested on the baseboard. Blood gushed to the surface, and she dropped the knife, watching it as anger roiled through her.
“Mel?” Danny rushed into the room. “Jesus, what did you do?” He fell to his knees beside her and gripped her injured hand.
“It’s just a scratch,” she snapped and tried to yank her hand away. “I’m fine, really.”
“No, you’re not,” he argued and pulled her to her feet.
Mel tried to plant herself, but he dragged her easily, keeping the wrist of her injured hand in his grip as he moved towards the kitchen. “I can take care of myself, you know,” she muttered as he steered her towards the barstool at the kitchen island and moved to the cabinets. “The first-aid kit is above the sink.”
“Thanks,” he growled and reached up to grab it. “What were you doing in there? I don’t have that project on the list you left.”
She shrugged as he set the kit down and dug through it for antibiotic cream, gauze, and wipes. “I didn’t plan on doing it until today—ouch!” She glared at him as he wiped the blood from the cut and studied it closely. “It’s fine, just throw a bandage on it.”
He ignored her and wiped it again as more blood pooled. He took a piece of gauze and pressed it firmly on her hand, holding it tightly in his. “Why don’t you just let someone take care of you for once? Or help you. You know I’m only a few rooms away, right? All you have to do is ask.”
“Who says I don’t take care of myself?” she huffed, not meeting his gaze.
“People in town,” he replied as his brows drew together when he pulled the gauze back. “They say you’re used to being on your own up here—a little too used to it.”
Mel knew exactly who’d been telling him those things and yanked her hand free. “Those two need to keep their noses out of my life,” she grouched, grabbing the cream and squeezing out an amount to wipe over the wound.
Danny clutched her hand and smoothed the cream gently over the wound, ignoring her scowl. “I think they’re just trying to help.”
“Well, they can stop trying and so can you if you’re going to start acting like them,” she snapped and tugged her hand free again. It took a second, but she managed to get the bandage on her hand and stalked to the kitchen door.
“You can’t be this stubborn,” he yelled. She stopped. “No one is this stubborn.”
“Why not?” she said without turning around. “Maybe I like being alone. Maybe I’m better off that way.” She heard his booted steps move closer but still didn’t turn. “You know nothing about me, so just drop it and let me get back to work.”
His hand landed firmly on her shoulder, and he turned her around to face him. “I know enough to know you shouldn’t wallow in the past, not after three years.”
Mel’s eyes narrowed as she stepped away from him. “Who told you that?”
“That your husband died?” he asked quietly. “Donna and Marty. It’s horrible, Mel, and I’m so sorry, but you can’t live like this.”
She tugged the black cardigan tighter around her and crossed her arms over her chest as if she could ward off the truth pouring out of his mouth. “Like what?” She glanced around the inn and shrugged one shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with how I live.”
“Hiding yourself in your inn is not living, and you know it,” he scolded.
“And what would you know about loss, huh?” she yelled. “What do you know about having a perfect life and having it all ripped away from you in one night? I lost everything! Do you understand? Everything! He took it with him when he died and left me to pick up the pieces… except I couldn’t, all right? I failed him!”
Rage she’d kept hidden for the past three years blurred her vision, and she glared around the inn, at every last piece of furniture Robert had touched or sat on, and every last wall he painted. He was embedded in this damn place, haunting her, stalking her day in and day out and she couldn’t get rid of him.
“Mel.” Danny reached out for her, but she didn’t see him.
She saw another man standing beside her, reaching out as if to hold her, and she couldn’t take it anymore. Mel backed towards the stairs and raced up them. Danny and the dogs followed her. He called out to her, but she ignored him, needing to be alone, to disappear from it all. She’d been dealing with it, getting by until Danny had confronted her and made her realize how much of a mess she was, what this place was. And it was all because of Robert. She threw the door to her room open and slammed it shut just as Danny reached it.
“Open the door, Mel,” he demanded.
“Go away. Just get out of my inn,” she muttered and hung her head. When she lifted it again, flashes of memories appeared before her eyes, and with a snarl of rage, she lunged for the bookshelf, the one Robert had built for her, and sent it crashing to the floor.
Glass from picture frames shattered, figurines he’d bought her over the years along with them, but she wasn’t finished yet. She grabbed his photo off the wall and threw it to the floor with a yell, dragging the others off the wall before she charged across the room and dragged her arm over the mantle. Items Robert had found for her over the years broke at her feet as tears streamed down her face, the pain and anger well past the point of regaining control. When she was alone, she could pretend everything was fine, that she wasn’t being torn to pieces. Danny had pierced her carefully constructed barricades with just a few words, a look, and a gentle touch.
More photos on the other wall drew her gaze, and she grabbed them one by one, chucking them into the empty hearth until her knees gave way and she fell to the floor. Sobs wracked her. She dug her nails into the rug, desperate for something to hold onto.
The door to her room opened and mumbled curses reached her before two strong arms lifted her to her feet. She yelled, fighting his warm hold, but he whispered in her ear and soothed her as he held her firmly against his hard chest. The fight left her limbs, and she let him hold her close as she cried for everything she’d lost and what she let herself become because of it. The inn she once loved crumbled at the edges. Here, in the midst of the chaos, was Danny—a man who wasn’t even supposed to be here, but there he was as her sanity threatened to fly away with this storm.
“Come on,” Danny said and turned her so he could lift her up into his arms. “There’s glass everywhere, and I think you need a drink.”
“Why are you doing this?” She wiped her tears on the hem of the cardigan as he carried her from the room and ushered the dogs down the steps in front of him. “You don’t even know me, or this place. You’re supposed to be on a damn vacation.”
He laughed quietly, and the deep growl vibrated through his chest and into her body, a sensation she long missed. When they reached the sitting area, he set her down on the couch and reached for the plaid blanket nearby to cover her lap. As he tucked her messed-up hair behind her ears, his worried brown eyes lingered on hers.
“Whiskey?” he asked.
“Whiskey,” she agreed, and he cupped her cheek softly before turning and disappearing into the kitchen. Xena
curled up at her feet on the floor beside the couch as Bobby and Lucy whined and nudged her hands until she smiled and scratched the tops of their heads.
Danny returned with two glasses and the whiskey bottle she knew was not enough to get her through this night. He poured two healthy helpings and handed her one. He sat on the edge of the hearth near the couch as she sipped her whiskey. She decided sipping would take too long to feel the effects. She shot back the whole glass and held it out for another, cringing at the harsh burning in her throat.
“Do you mind?” she asked when Danny didn’t move to refill her glass.
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Yeah, I am, so pour the damn whiskey or I’ll do it myself,” she said sternly without lowering her glass. He picked up the bottle, and with his eyes on hers, he poured another full glass. He held the bottle as she shot that one back, too, her shoulders sagging as she felt a hint of relaxation flood her veins. “Ah, there it is.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. If only she could lay there and drift for days, but Danny wouldn’t let her. When she opened one eye to squint at him, his face was drawn in worry and a flicker of anger. “Drink. Relax.”
“I can’t relax when I just listened to you destroy your room,” he muttered darkly. “You could’ve hurt yourself. Is that what you’re trying to do?”
“No,” she said and repeated it when he raised a single eyebrow at her words. “No, I’m not. I’m just… I’m tired of seeing him everywhere, feeling him here.”
“You miss him,” he said, but she shook her head. “You don’t?”
She set her glass down as a bitter laugh escaped her lips, and her vision swam for a moment. “I guess I haven’t eaten anything all day either.”
“Damn it, Mel,” Danny grunted and stood. “What do you want?”
She reached for his hand to stop him, and when their skin made contact, he stared down at their clasped fingers with the same curious stare she had. His grip tightened on hers, and he knelt before her, resting his other hand on hers. “I’m not used to having anyone around,” she whispered.
“I know. You said that earlier,” he replied with a crooked grin. A dimple she’d never noticed before appeared in his right cheek, and she reached up as if to run her fingers over it but stopped.
She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, letting her whole body deflate with it, wishing it would take the churning emotions away, too. “I’m so angry at him,” she admitted. “I’m angry that he left me here alone, left me with this inn and our dogs. It’s not fair—none of it was, and when I lost our baby…” Her hand slipped to her empty belly, and she choked on the next words, unable to get them out.
Danny picked up her hand and held it. “I think you’re allowed to be angry,” he affirmed. “You lost so much at one time. Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to break down.”
She laughed sharply. “Oh, I’ve had many breakdowns but always held the anger back. Until now.”
He shifted so he sat on the floor, looking up at her, and he tilted his head towards the hall by the kitchen. “I might have poked around a bit earlier, looking for tools. I found your Christmas decorations all boxed up.”
“Don’t get them out,” she said quickly. “Please, I don’t think I can handle that yet.”
“Your husband liked Christmas that much?”
She shook her head. “Robert… He—uh, he was in the navy.”
She pictured the living room three years ago with the garland hanging from the railings along with twinkling lights and balls of mistletoe at every door. The guests wandered about, happy and excited for the festival in town. Donna was there, helping her, when she heard a car’s brakes squeak outside. She looked out the window and watched two men stepped out, solemn looks on their faces. She would never forget that morning. If Donna hadn’t been there, she would’ve fallen to the floor from shock and probably hit her head on the hearth. They sat with her, the two men, trying their best to comfort her. She’d known them both for years, just as Robert had, but it didn’t soften the blow.
“We were just about to put the tree up when they came with the news.” She gasped as pain ripped at her chest. “Robert had been killed. A few days later was Christmas Eve, and I… uh, I lost the baby, too overcome by grief, the doctor said.”
Danny didn’t say a word, just held her hands tightly and sat with her on the floor of her inn, an inn she didn’t know what to do with. Keep it? Sell it? Burn it down and start over? She’d never get rid of Robert’s memories here, and it wasn’t that she didn’t want to remember him. He would always be a part of her heart, but she could barely get through a day without being confronted by his ghost.
“I’m going to make us something to eat,” Danny said. “What are you in the mood for? Anything at all?”
“I think I have some frozen pizzas in the deep freeze in the basement.”
He grinned, and that dimple appeared again. Lightly, he kissed the back of her hands, one after the other, then set them gently in her lap. “Frozen pizza it is. Be right back, and please, wait for me before you drink anymore.”
She pulled the blanket up to her chin and winked. “You have to catch up anyway.”
His heavy steps moved to the kitchen, and Mel closed her eyes, not realizing until that moment how much she missed having a man around, someone strong and tall, someone who didn’t put up with her shitty attitude. A whisper of a voice brushed against her ear, and her eyes shot open, glancing around, but she was alone with the dogs. It was curious, though, how Danny came to be at her inn, trapped in Westbend because of a snowstorm. Curious and a coincidence, nothing more. She settled back against the couch cushions and closed her eyes, letting her fingers drag through Bobby’s fur, his head resting on her leg.
The dogs liked Danny, and she couldn’t ignore the strange tugging sensation in her gut forever. He was attractive, but there was more to this man who had stumbled into her life. A man willing to work hard for what he wanted in life and wasn’t afraid to get his hands a little dirty. Mel waited for a pang of guilt to hit her, but there was nothing, just an empty void needing to be filled now that some of her anger was spent.
***
Danny dug through the deep freeze in the basement, not really seeing what he was digging through. His mind was cluttered with Mel’s story. Even though he’d heard it all before, hearing the words come from her—the pain, seeing how she had torn apart her room in anger—hit him harder than he thought it would. She wasn’t just a widow living in an inn. She was a broken woman, heart and soul.
You should get out while you can, the voice whispered in his mind. Otherwise, you’re going to get dragged right down with her.
He leaned against the deep freeze to still the rambling thoughts of his mind, but all he saw was the broken picture frames and the smashed furniture and the rage in her eyes as she sobbed in his arms. He couldn’t leave her, not now. Mel had touched a deep part of his soul and dragged it out into the light, and there was no going back. Beneath the grief was the woman she used to be, and he wanted to bring her back to the surface, show her she didn’t have to live with the ghost of her late husband.
Screw the deal. He didn’t care if she sold the inn to him or not. No one deserved to be in pain, especially around the holidays. Christmas on the farm had always been a special time, and his mom loved it more than any other time of the year.
He grabbed the pizzas from the freezer and let the lid slam closed. His parents. He swallowed hard and cursed as he dragged out his cell from his pocket and slid his thumb across the screen until their number popped up. His thumb hovered over the call button, and before he chickened out, he pressed it and held the cell up to his ear as he walked to the kitchen.
“Danny?” his mom, Delcie, said excitedly after two rings. “Danny, is that you?”
“Hey, Ma,” he said, a smile stretched across his face. “How have you been?”
“We’ve been good, son, really good. Oh, hold on, your dad wan
ts me to put you on speaker phone,” she muttered, and he heard her fumbling for the buttons, cursing under her breath. “There, I think I got it.”
“Danny?”
“Right here, Dad.”
“Damn good to hear your voice, son,” David said with a healthy laugh. “We got a call from your assistant—what’s that girl’s name?”
“Janet, dear,” Delcie supplied. “Such a sweet girl.”
Danny rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming next. “She just works for me, so don’t even think it, Ma.”
“I’m just saying,” Delcie replied, but David cut across her.
“Anyway, she said you’d be too busy to come home for the holidays again. Said you were traveling. Anywhere exciting?”
Danny turned the oven on to preheat and peeked out the kitchen doorway to check on Mel. She was still on the couch, petting one of the dogs, her eyes closed. “You could say that. Definitely not the city I’m used to.”
“No? Well, where are you?” Delcie asked brightly. “Send me a postcard, at least.”
“There’s actually a winter festival going on,” Danny mentioned. “Maybe I’ll check it out if this blizzard lets up and see if I can’t find you both something.”
“I only want it on one condition,” Delcie told him sternly. “I want you to deliver it yourself.”
Danny hesitated, but an idea formed in his mind. He shifted so he could see Mel again. She needed to get away, so why not take her away himself? He could afford it, and if the storm cleared in a few days, they’d make it home just in time for Christmas. Grinning, he settled against the counter. “You know, Ma, I think I will be home, and I think I’ll bring someone very special with me.”