A Broken Christmas (20 page)

The hum of Walsh’s engine in the driveway snapped Kyle’s head up. Aimee hadn’t started her car. She’d walked out the door, but she hadn’t
left.
He hurried to the window and glanced in the drive. Snow still covered her car.

Which meant she’d walked. To the lake between the houses. Where she always went to think when she was mad at him.

“Mom?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes?”

The acrid scent of smoke tickled his nose. “What’s burning?”

She sniffed the air and chuckled. “Smells like turkey to me.”

Suddenly, that burnt turkey felt like life and death. He grabbed her leathery hand and gave her a pleading gaze. “Can you fix it?”

Mom Walsh patted the back of his hand and knowing eyes locked with his. “Go on. I’ll see what I can do.”

Kyle moved as fast as his injured leg would allow him, down the stairs, across the living room to the socks he’d abandoned two nights previous near the couch. He pulled them on, stuffed his feet in his work boots. Then, he glanced around for his cane.

“Have you seen my cane?”

He pulled the couch away from the wall, checking to see if it had fallen behind. Seconds passed like hours, each one marking one more unacceptable wrong that lay between him and Aimee. Thrusting the couch back against the wall, he muttered an oath. Where the hell had he put it?

The lighted Christmas tree in the corner caught his attention, and his gaze honed in on the burnt out bulb in the cock-eyed star. Screw it. The lake wasn’t that far. If he fell, he’d crawl. They were all a little broken. A little flawed. He didn’t need to be ashamed in front of Aimee.

Yanking his heavy coat off the wall, he braved the wintry air, and the new fallen snow. Her crisp footsteps marked a path down the drive, across the street, and up the narrow trail that led to the lake. Kyle gritted his teeth, ordered his leg to cooperate. Determined, he struck off after her.

Chapter Seventeen

With her chin tucked into the collar of her winter coat, Aimee stared at the brightly lit Frosty across the lake on the neighbor’s makeshift dock. She didn’t feel the cold—her frozen insides kept it out. Kyle shouldn’t have blown up at her, but she shouldn’t have pushed him beyond his boundaries.

If Conner had just answered his phone…

No, she couldn’t fault Conner. He had tried to tell her. She’d blown right past that warning, convinced she knew what was best for Kyle.

Still, she couldn’t entirely blame herself, either. If Kyle had told her about Denton’s death, she wouldn’t have pushed. If he had told her why he wanted a divorce, she wouldn’t be here to screw things up.

Footsteps crunched behind her in the sparse trees. Assuming it was Conner, coming to rub her nose in her mistakes as only a brother could, she sank deeper into her coat and tried to make herself as small as possible on the wooden bench.
Go away, Conner.

But it wasn’t Conner’s long rangy frame that passed in front of her lowered gaze. Kyle limped around the corner of the bench and took a seat beside her. The scent of sage, from the soap she’d left in the shower, clung to his presence. Barely able to breathe, Aimee lifted her head and let her eyes rest on him.

One hand was stuffed into his coat pocket, the other rubbed restlessly on his knee. Her brows tightened as she observed his absent cane. Stubborn jerk—he could have fallen and broken something. “Where’s your cane?” Her worry slipped out before she could stop it.

Kyle cocked his head and gave her a sad smile, before he dropped his gaze between his knees and stared at the snow. He rubbed his left knee once more. She recognized the habit as nervous. Connected his injured leg wouldn’t let him pace.

“I divorced you, Aimee, because I love you.” His quiet voice lingered in the heavy silence of the woods.

Aimee’s breath caught. Afraid to move, she sat completely still.

“Not
did.
Do. I love you, Aimee.”

Shifting on the bench, he swiveled to look at her more fully and picked her hand up to twine his fingers through her frigid digits. The warmth of his skin soaked into her palm. Through misting eyes, she watched the merging of their fingers, the slow way his thumb stroked the back of her hand.

“You are more precious to me than anything. I didn’t know what to do when you fell apart. It scared the hell out of me, and I swore I’d do whatever it took to make sure you never suffered like that again.”

Her vision blurred as the fine mist became heavy, pooling tears. She tried to swallow, to tell him he didn’t need to say anything further, but her throat closed around the words. One blink sent hot droplets searing down her cheeks.

Kyle pulled his hand from his pocket and used his knuckles to brush them away. “I thought if I left I could somehow keep you safe.” His voice roughened with emotion. He cleared his throat. “I was wrong. I made your choices for you, and hurt you more.”

“Oh, Kyle,” she whispered. “All I—”

He settled one finger against her lips. “Let me finish before we both freeze to death out here.”

Sniffling, Aimee nodded. The faint beginnings of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth.

“I’m not what I used to be. My leg’s jacked. I don’t know if I’ll take that position Renfield offered. I can’t feel your hand in mine. But I need you as much as I always have, if not maybe a little more. And that’s a damned hard thing to say.”

Swallowing another rising lump of feeling, Aimee nodded again. “I know.” She inhaled deeply, then let the breath out in measured intervals, searching for her composure. “It wasn’t easy for me to ask for help, either. If I hadn’t, though…”

Kyle dropped her hand and looped his arm around her shoulders to draw her against his side. Several moments of silence passed as his fingers pulled through her hair and she soaked up his body heat. Then he cleared his throat again and turned his head to look into her eyes. “Mom showed me your blanket. It scares me.”

Fear skittered down her spine and she hesitantly asked, “Did she tell you the rest?”

At the dangerous uplift of his eyebrow, Aimee knew the answer. Mentally, she cringed.

“The rest?”

Doing her best to draw attention away from her equally poor decision to take away his choices, she decided compiling everything into one confession might be the best chance she had to avoid striking his anger. “When I went in to have my IUD removed, I spent a long time talking to the doctor. He thinks I have an incompetent cervix. But he also thinks bed rest would prevent another miscarriage. Studies I’ve read back that up. There’s also stitches they can put in, but the jury’s still out on whether that’s smart or not.”

He gave her one, long, slow blink. And in that moment, Aimee knew his mind was still on the first sentence—when she’d had her IUD removed.

“Wait. You did what?”

Aimee groaned aloud. “Don’t be mad, please. I didn’t even think about it before the hallway. By then—”

Kyle’s mouth landed on hers, hard and heavy. At the back of her neck, his fingers tightened against her scalp, holding her still while he thoroughly kissed her. She reveled in the velvety stroke of his tongue, the fierce possession of her mouth. Buried emotion rose from some place deep, pouring out through him and speaking to her heart until she understood he didn’t know the words.

His fingers softened as his lips eased away. Barely a flutter against mouth, he asked, “You could be pregnant now?”

Chuckling, Aimee nodded. “After last night, I’d say odds are fairly high.”

He blew out a hard breath, raked his hand through his hair. “Well. That’s one way to throw a man straight into his fears.” Though his words held a touch of scolding, the grin that brightened his face told a different story. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a bit of gold that glinted in the dim sunlight. Holding it between thumb and forefinger, Kyle brought his wedding band between their bodies. “You know you have to marry me now, right?”

Aimee’s mouth quirked. “No. I don’t
have
to marry you. I have a good job offer.”

All of the teasing humor drained out of Kyle’s face as he caught her hand and squeezed it tight. “Will you? I’m a bit broken, but will you take me back and be my wife again?”

She closed her fingers over his ring, plucking it from between his. Smiling, she pushed it onto his hand. “I guess we’ll have to heal together.”

A short burst of laughter broke from Kyle’s chest as he gathered her into his arms and pulled her atop his lap. Slowly, thoroughly, he kissed her. As she looped her arms around his neck and surrendered to the warmth he stirred in her blood, his hands slid down her back, over her waist, and gave her bottom a squeeze. He broke the kiss and rubbed the tip of his nose against hers.

“Your jeans are wet. Let’s get you home.”

Aimee slid off his lap onto her feet. She extended her hand for his. Kyle looked at it for a moment, as if debating whether to accept her offered aid or not. Then his green eyes caught hers and he slid his palm into her fingers. His weight made her wobble, but using her legs, she braced to give him leverage until he was standing beside her. As she turned to lead him through the woods, he pulled her back around.

“I love you, Aimee Garland,” he whispered with a smile.

“I love you too.”

Falling into step beside him, she leaned her head on his shoulder for the briefest of moments before he stumbled, then she slipped her arm around his waist. Linked side-by-side, they headed for the house.

“You think we can salvage my turkey?” she asked on a laugh.

“Mom said she’d try.”

Surprise smacked into Aimee. “They’re still there?”

Sharing her laughter, Kyle nodded. “Charred turkey, burned-out stars, friends at each other’s throats—Merry Christmas, honey.”

Aimee smiled. Merry Christmas indeed. She couldn’t think of any other gift she’d rather have.