The Christmas He Loved Her

by Juliana Stone

  “Shit, if this is the kind of crap I gotta put up with, then I don’t know, maybe I’m better off sitting with—” Mackenzie cranked his head around and groaned. “Here comes Lori and…” He straightened. “It that Brad Kitchen she’s with? What the hell happened to her husband? He’s still the fire chief, right?”

  “Long story,” Raine replied, “but let’s just say, her husband was putting out fires all over the county, if you know what I mean.”

  “No shit,” Mackenzie replied. “Not that I blame him. That woman is high maintenance.”

  “Mac!” Raine scolded. “That’s awful. There’s no excuse for a husband to cheat. If you’re not happy, then….”

  “No one who is married is happy, trust me on that.” Mackenzie shot a look her way. “Well, except for you.” His gaze moved to Jake. “I mean, you were…you will be…” He ran his hands through the thick crop of blond hair at his forehead and sighed. “This is complicated, this thing with you two.”

  “Get over it,” Jake said as he slid into the chair beside Raine.

  “Oh, I will, but with Lori making a beeline for this table, you can bet your sweet ass that by tomorrow, everyone in Crystal Lake will know the two of you are sleeping together.”

  “Are you okay with this?” Jake pushed his chair slightly so that he faced her, his dark eyes intent, filled with concern. “We can move slow, if that’s what you need.”

  She loved him for that. Jake was always looking out for everyone else and thinking of himself last.

  “I can’t hide the way I feel, Jake.” Her hand crept to his face and she melted as he leaned into her touch. She thought of the package Lily had given her. Of what it meant. She also thought of the note from this Baker person.

  Raine thought of the scars along Jake’s lower back, and even though he hadn’t talked about them, she knew they were from shrapnel, most likely from the attack that had taken Jesse.

  There was still so much between them, so much noise and so many secrets.

  “I love you, Jake,” she whispered, though the intensity of the moment was broken when Mac groaned. Loudly.

  “Seriously? This is what I have to look forward to? The two of you guys pawing each other in public?” He shook his head and scowled. “Thank God Cain and Maggie are coming home for New Year’s Eve.”

  “What?” Raine whipped her head around. “I didn’t know they were coming. The last I heard, Maggie wasn’t sure, because she didn’t know what Cain’s schedule was going to be like over the holidays.”

  “Sucks to be out of the loop,” Mac teased, and then he winked. “It’s because she called your house, but you’ve been shacking up with Jake at Wyndham.”

  Raine made a face, and the heaviness of the moment passed as the three of them sat back and caught up. Just like old times.

  Luke Jansen and a few others from their football days stopped by, and there was also a steady stream of every single unattached woman in the place, all of them anxious to say hello to two of the infamous Bad Boys. Jake ignored them, while Mackenzie relished every bit of feminine attention thrown his way. The guy was a natural charmer, and his dial seemed to be set to eleven.

  But as Raine watched Mackenzie closely, she felt his loneliness. His pain. And the underlying anger that was always just below the surface. To the world, Mackenzie Draper appeared to have it all. Looks. Talent. Ambition. Prestige.

  But she knew that deep down he was still the sad little boy whose father’s love consisted of fists and beatings. The man was a bastard through and through, and no one understood why Mac’s mother stayed with him. They say love is blind, but that kind of love was nothing but destructive.

  “Hey, don’t look so down.” Mac smiled through glassy eyes—he’d skipped the parade and come straight to the Coach House, so he’d been into the booze for hours. He was well on his way to tying one on as he moved Rachel DeGroote off his lap. The woman tottered on heels that were four inches too high and giggled as she bent low over the table, her generous rack about to fall out and give them all a treat.

  “You wanna come back to my place?” she asked saucily.

  Mac tilted his head back as if he was considering the offer, and Jake groaned into Raine’s ear. “Let’s get him out of here before he causes more shit. Didn’t she just split with her husband?”

  Raine nodded, and whispered, “Yes, and he’s a nasty son of a bitch.”

  “Okay, buddy. I’m going to get you home.” Jake got to his feet.

  Mac surprised them both by getting to his feet and nodding. “Sounds like a plan. I’ve been up for hours and need to crash.” He swore. “That reminds me.”

  Raine buttoned her coat and knew where this was headed. “You need a place to stay.”

  “Yep. Ben is out of jail just in time for the holidays, and I’m not exactly welcome.”

  “It’s okay.” Raine tugged on Jake’s hand. “You can stay at my place, you know, because I’m shacking up at the stone cottage with Jake.”

  “Perfect.” Mac followed them out into the parking lot after they said good-bye to Salvatore. “Except I shouldn’t get behind the wheel. I skipped the parade, remember? Had a head start.”

  “I’ll drive you over,” Jake said as he handed Raine his keys. “See you back at the cottage?”

  She nodded, reached up to kiss him, and whispered, “I’ll get the fire going.”

  When Jake’s hand snaked around to her butt, Raine giggled and squirmed against him.

  “Babe, it’s already started.”

  “Just make sure it doesn’t go out,” she warned, and then pulled away. “The house key is—”

  “I know where it’s kept.” Jake smiled, saluted, and then walked across the parking lot with Mackenzie. They were almost to Mac’s car when she suddenly remembered something.

  “Jake, grab Gibson’s orange chew toy. It’s the only one he has that doesn’t squeak. I think it’s in the living room.”

  He nodded and she watched them until they slid into Mac’s rental, and then she climbed into Jake’s Jeep.

  It was cold, so she cranked the engine and waited a few minutes, her hand in her pocket fingering the package Lily had given her.

  Without warning, tears stung the corners of her eyes, and she rested her forehead against the steering wheel. Why did she feel so damn unsettled? So damn scared?

  But she knew why.

  And as she pulled out of the parking lot, Raine Edwards tried to quell the panic that all of a sudden reared its ugly head. Her stomach turned over and it didn’t settle. Not when she pulled out onto the road. Not even once she reached the stone cottage. She felt as if the devil was nipping at her heels and every single bit of happiness she’d felt tonight was threatened.

  Cold sweat broke out along her forehead, and God, she was so hot.

  She let herself into the house and doffed her jacket, barely avoiding the bundle of fur and wet sloppy tongue that raced toward her.

  She frowned when she spied shredded newspaper and—her frown deepened—was that her slipper?

  “Jesus, Gibs, couldn’t wait for your chewie?”

  Once she satisfied Gibson with several pats to the head and a cookie, she set about building the fire and then withdrew the leather box from her pocket, her fingers running over it nervously.

  “Do I open it now?”

  Gibson barked at the sound of her voice, and she sat down on the sofa, ignoring his mess as she stared down at her hands.

  With a sigh she carefully opened it and felt her heart turn over. There, nestled inside the box was a medal. It was bronze, and there was a V fixed to the ribbon. She knew what this meant.

  Valor.

  Raine bit her lip and forced the lump in her throat away as she swept her fingers across the smooth surface. It was cold to the touch, and a shiver ran through her when she gingerly pulled out a folded note t
ucked into the seam of the box.

  She held it for several moments, staring at the medal and trying to get hold of her emotions.

  Valor. The word alone was powerful. Sacred.

  And then carefully she unfolded the paper to stare down at words written by a hand she didn’t recognize. Baker. A soldier who had served with Jesse and Jake. His penmanship was neat, controlled, and for a second the letters blurred together as her eyes filled with tears.

  Slowly she wiped them away and focused. The past was suddenly staring her straight in the face, and maybe it was time to deal with it once and for all.

  Chapter 25

  Jake drove through the still night, not really seeing the brightly lit homes that shone into the dark. Some were quite elaborate, with spotlights and colored lights adorning windows, doorways, and trees. Some were more humble, and the odd one had nothing festive at all.

  He drove through a now-quiet downtown, past the town square and surrounding park whose Christmas displays and impressive nativity scene were still lit to the extreme. A few couples slowly meandered through the area hand in hand, enjoying a perfect winter’s evening.

  But his thoughts were on the woman who waited for him back at the cottage. Raine. And a goofy grin swept across his face as he thought of sliding into that stupid pink blanket she seemed to like so much and doing all sorts of things with her. Wicked things. Sexy things. Things that only a few short weeks ago hadn’t seemed possible.

  “Seriously, Edwards, I’m gonna puke if you keep that up.”

  Jake glanced at Mac and shrugged. “Can’t help it, brother. I love her.”

  Mac straightened in his seat. “Yeah, I know. I’ve known it for years, but shit, you don’t have to cross over to the dark side just because Raine has you by the balls.”

  Jake laughed. “Hey, I’m fine with Raine holding my balls.”

  Mac groaned. “That’s just wrong. I don’t need to know about that shit.”

  Jake turned onto Crystal Lake Road. “So what’s going on in your New York world these days?”

  Mac shrugged. “Same old. I made partner, but I think you already know that. Sold the condo I was in and bought a brownstone on the Lower East Side. It’s a fixer-upper, but it gives me something to do.”

  “What about that woman—Tiffany I think was her name?”

  “She did what they all do.”

  “And what’s that, exactly?” Jake pulled into Raine’s driveway and glanced up at the carriage house. The outside lights were on, but the house was in darkness.

  “Got way too serious even after I laid out the ground rules. Too bad, because she was good in bed.”

  “You have ground rules?”

  “You bet your ass I do, I need them. And even then, clearly they don’t work. Hell, Tiff got pissed because I wouldn’t spend the night at her apartment, but shit, why would I do that? I’ve got a perfectly fine king-size bed at my own place and complete silence in the morning. I can get up and work out, scratch my ass if I want to. I can have my coffee and read the paper in peace. No listening to her natter on about Gucci bags and Manolos. What the fuck is a Manolo, anyway?”

  “You’ve got it rough.” Jake knew his friend would never change. The guy was a commitmentphobe, but considering he grew up in a house with a father who used everyone in his family as punching bags, sadly, it wasn’t surprising.

  Mac opened the door and got out of the car. “I knew when she started talking about the holidays and hinting at spending it together in fucking Mexico or the Bahamas, she needed to go.”

  “Yeah, because a vacation in paradise with a warm, willing woman is so much crappier than spending the holidays with your fucked-up family.”

  Mac shrugged and hopped up the steps onto Raine’s porch. “At least my fucked-up family is mine, and we all know where we stand with each other.” He grinned and reached beneath the loose floorboard beside the empty pot just under the window and grabbed the key. “Besides, what’s a holiday without a dustup at the Draper place?”

  Jake followed Mac inside and paused. The place hadn’t been lived in for days, and he felt it. There were no Christmas decorations, no cards, no tree…there was nothing. But that was because the one person who made everything seem alive wasn’t here. She was waiting for him at the cottage and it was enough to kick him in the ass.

  Okay, where was the damn chew toy?

  “Are you going to tuck me into bed too?”

  “What?” Jake doffed his boots and trudged into the family room. “No, Raine wants Gibson’s toy.”

  “Gibson?”

  “The dog.”

  “Oh, forgot about him. All right, I’m gonna crash in the back bedroom. See you tomorrow night?” Mac tugged at his leather jacket and ran his fingers through the mess of blond hair at his temple. His buddy looked tired and more than a little lost.

  Jake nodded. “Yep, after church, my parents’ place.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mac replied as he headed down the hall. “Besides, you promised an introduction to some hot blonde?”

  “She’s off-limits, my friend,” Jake shot back as he entered the family room.

  “Whatever,” Mac shouted back.

  Jake shook his head and grinned. Mac would never change. He saw every woman he met as a challenge, and once he conquered them, he was done.

  First off, Lily wasn’t the type to be conquered, and second, the two of them together would never work. They were too similar, too damaged and too broken, and the last thing he needed was to have two of his best friends at each other’s throat.

  Jake spied the chew toy almost immediately, tucked between the sofa and a magazine basket in the corner. He grabbed it and was about to leave, anxious to get back to Raine, when he heard Mac swear, followed by a loud crash and then more swearing.

  What the hell?

  He strode down the hall toward the sliver of light that fell from the spare bedroom—just past Raine’s—and pushed the door all the way open.

  Mac stood in the middle of the room, his jacket on the floor as he cursed and rubbed his knee. The cursing stopped almost as soon as Jake entered.

  “Jake, what is all this?”

  He shook his head—his mind reeling as he slowly took in the contents of the room. He saw a crib. A teddy bear. He saw a knitted blanket—half-finished—folded on top of a table. A rocking horse was in the corner, a couple of framed prints leaning against the wall, the satchel he had brought back from Texas beside them.

  As if in a dream, Jake crossed over to the table, his fingers reaching for the blanket, when he saw something that nearly stopped his heart. Carefully he withdrew a black-and-white sonogram picture from beneath it, and as he stared down at the grainy image, at the name across the bottom, Raine Edwards, he thought he was going to puke.

  “Jake?”

  “I don’t know,” he managed to say, “but you can bet I’m going to find out.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, he pulled up the driveway and parked Mac’s rental behind his Jeep. He cut the engine and stared at the stone cottage in silence. It was late, nearly two in the morning, and the night was thick, like black velvet. Warm light fell out of the window, pooling against the snow, and he stared at the spot for a long time. So long that the cold seeped into the car and he shivered as the brisk air rolled over him.

  Eventually, when he knew it was either freeze his ass off or get the hell out of the car, he opened the door and stepped outside, the snow crunchy underfoot. Twin pipes of hot air blew out of his nostrils as he bent over and grabbed the satchel that lay on the passenger seat—the satchel he’d brought back from Texas. The satchel that still had the travel tags from Afghanistan intact.

  Anger burned him, and he had to take a moment to push it away. But he couldn’t help but wonder why the hell she hadn’t looked inside? He thought of the ro
om, of the picture, and his anger doubled. Hell, it tripled, because not only was he angry but he was scared as hell.

  He tossed the satchel over his shoulder and carefully made his way up the path that led to the house. Jake paused in front of the door, his hand on the knob. He needed to get hold of his anger and the underlying confusion.

  He was about to take a step back, wanting more time—needing more time—but then the door flew open and Raine was there. For a moment, he was blinded by the light from inside, and when his vision cleared, he saw the fire in the hearth, the pink blanket thrown on the floor in front of it. He saw the Christmas tree, decorated to the nines, the large nutcracker near the fireplace, and the puppy rolling around on the floor, a cookie in his mouth.

  It was a scene straight out of a Rockwell painting.

  And it was all wrong.

  Maybe if he’d paid more attention, he would have noticed the tearstained face that looked up at him. Maybe he would have known that her heart was in his hands, and in that moment he was about to break it.

  Maybe if he were a psychic, he might have known. But he wasn’t. He was a brother. A soldier. A lover.

  And at the moment, more confused and pissed off than he ever remembered being.

  Jake pushed past Raine and threw the satchel onto the sofa where he’d made love to her only hours earlier. Where he’d held her close and listened to her heart beating against his.

  “Jake?”

  Raine sounded scared, but he fought the urge to grab her up into his arms.

  God, this was so wrong.

  “Jake,” she said again, her voice trembling as she closed the door and walked over to the sofa.

  He said nothing and just watched as she reached for the satchel, her long, delicate fingers running over the worn leather.

  The fire crackled, a log popping loudly, and Gibson jumped up onto the sofa, whining as he pushed against Raine.

  “Why haven’t you opened this?” he said harshly, hating the way she winced at the sound of his voice.