Читать книгу The Complete Christmas Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 42

It’d be so easy to let her go. To turn around, trudge to their room—which had been empty of her for so long—and continue with the status quo.

Logan frowned, examining the stiff line of Amy’s back through the window. He clutched the bottle of beer in his hand, the cold wetness seeping into his warm skin. It was Amy’s favorite brand. The only kind she drank. And he’d kept it on hand for four years, fool that he was, having picked it up out of habit during every trip to town.

He’d grabbed the bottle quickly from the fridge minutes earlier, ducking out of the kitchen to the low murmurs of Pop consoling a tearful Betty, then made his way toward the front porch. To do the right thing. To talk to Amy and pick up the pieces. Again.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the knot in his upper back. His mind urged him to walk away. It practically screamed at him to go in the opposite direction. Just as it had yesterday morning when he’d sat in his truck debating whether or not to make the trip to bring her home.

But, just like then, something inside propelled him toward her. It burned hot in his chest, searing his hands and making him desperate to hold on. Even though he knew it was a high risk. Amy’s passionate nature had never been predictable and it was even less trustworthy.

He gritted his teeth. Hell if he’d be like Pop and stand in Raintree’s dirt drive watching his wife drive away. Crumple into a weak heap as she left her family behind. He was stronger than that.

Logan looked away, peering past the Christmas lights strung along the porch rail to the dark night beyond. Pop had been little good to himself back when his wife left. Much less to his sons. Ten at the time, Logan hadn’t sat idly by. Instead, he’d picked up the reins of the ranch, hustled through the daily chores and watched out for his wild younger brother, refusing to allow himself to dwell on his mother’s absence or his father’s grief.

His mother had made the decision to leave and Logan had accepted it. It was her loss, not theirs. He just wished his father had seen things the same way. The way Logan should accept Amy’s decision to leave now.

He dropped his gaze, tracing the trails of condensation on the glass bottle. Amy’s movements brought his eyes back to her. She shifted from one ridiculous high heel to the other, leaning down to prop her elbows on the porch rail and wrap her arms around herself with a shiver.

Logan sighed. It was barely above thirty degrees outside and there his stubborn wife stood. Freezing her tail off.

His heart tripped in his chest. His wife. His Amy.

He should leave things alone. Let her go her way and him his, as Traci had urged in the office lobby of limbo. But despite it all, he needed her back. Needed them back. The way they were before she’d shot their relationship to all hell and beyond.

Amy owed it to him. And they both owed it to their daughter’s memory. Otherwise, their baby girl would be nothing more than a mistake. An almost that never drew breath. A wrong that was never righted.

He closed his eyes and hung his head, muscles flinching on a jagged streak of anger. At himself. At Amy. God forgive him for feeling it but it was there all the same.

Logan made his way outside, boots scraping across the floor and drawing to a halt behind Amy. He set the unopened beer on the porch rail and drew in a lungful of icy air.

“Here.” He shrugged off his denim jacket, draping it over her bent form.

Amy wanted to refuse it. The urge to decline was written in her drawn brows and scrunched nose. But she accepted it.

“Thanks.” She hunched into the coat and turned back to the dark emptiness before them.

Despite his ill mood, a smile tugged at his lips. Amy had always been stubborn. Head thick as a brick but sharp as a tack, she’d fought him at every turn. It’d started the day they’d met. At eight years old, she’d given him a run for his money. She’d sized up his twelve-year-old frame, curled her lip and dared him to race her. And damned if she hadn’t won.

Logan eased his hip against the rail and crossed his arms, a low laugh escaping him.

“You still know how to make an entrance.” He nudged her and eyed the tight line of her mouth. “Family dinners always were a lot more interesting with you around.”

Her shoulders stiffened and she leaned down, propping her elbows on the porch rail and twisting her hands together.

“You plan on spending the night out here?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“Doubt you’d last long, cold as it is.”

She glanced up then, emerald eyes fixing firmly on his face. “I’d last long enough.”

Logan grunted. He scooped up the beer bottle, snagged the cap on the porch rail and snapped it off. He tipped the bottle up and tugged deeply, swallowing several mouthfuls of the smooth brew and sighing with pleasure.

Amy’s gaze clung to him, following the movements of his throat and darting to his hand. He took another swig. Her eyebrows lowered into a glower.

Logan’s belly warmed, sending a sweet thrill up his spine. She’d had the exact same expression the night of her nineteenth birthday. He’d given in to her badgering and had taken her up to the local pool hall to celebrate.

She hadn’t been satisfied with flashing her ID at the door. Nope. She’d done her best to sweet talk him into going to the bar and getting her a beer. He’d brought her fried cheese sticks and a milk instead. She’d been beyond ticked.

The warmth spread to his face and pulled at the corners of his mouth. He tipped the bottle up again, grinning as her frown darkened. It was good to see a little life in her.

She jerked her chin. “Your daddy ever tell you it’s impolite not to share?”

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. The kind he hadn’t had in years. He let it loose, relishing the feel and sound of it.

Her gaze wandered over his face to linger on his smile. Her lush mouth parted, the edges tipping up and her face lighting with pleasure. That was all it took.

Before he knew it, he was leaning over, savoring the curves of her lips under his. The sweet flavor of her mingled with the crisp coolness of the beer on his tongue.

She tasted the same. Warm and comforting. Like his own personal sun in the middle of winter. She tasted like home.

It didn’t last. She pulled away, squaring her shoulders and stepping back.

“This can’t happen, Logan,” she whispered.

“Why not?” He straightened, setting the beer back on the porch rail. “You’re still my wife.”

“I haven’t been that for a long time. And I wouldn’t have been in the first place if you’d had a choice.”

“That’s not true—”

“It’s not?” She leaned forward. “You mean if I hadn’t lied to you and gotten pregnant, you would’ve chosen to marry me?”

He hesitated, scrambling for the right words. The ones he’d chosen so carefully on the drive to bring her home.

“You’ve never lied to me, Logan. Please don’t start now,” she stated softly. “Would you have married me back then if you’d had a choice?”

Not then. Not at such a young age. And not before they’d had a chance to experience life beyond the ranch.

His jaw clamped shut. He couldn’t say that out loud. Not now. Not when she looked so vulnerable. So hopeful.

“Would you have given in to me to begin with if I hadn’t trailed you so hard? If I hadn’t pushed so much?” she pressed, her voice catching.

No. He wouldn’t have.

She sighed and looked away. “We grew up together. We were friends. I should’ve left it at that.”

That cool mask returned. It settled over her features like a glaze of ice, freezing out all emotion in her expression.

“You were right,” she said, knuckles turning white from her grip on the porch rail. “I was naïve and foolish. It was nothing but misguided hero worship.”

Logan flinched, an unexpected pain spearing his chest. He’d spent so much time in the past trying to reason the idea with her. Trying to get her to understand what she felt for him was nothing more than a crush. That, at four years her senior, he was easy to look up to and become infatuated with.

But, as she’d grown, he’d had to work harder at talking himself into believing it, too. And on that ride home from the pool hall the night of her nineteenth birthday, she’d turned to him, put her hands on him and touched that beautiful mouth of hers to his.

And, heaven help him, he’d given in. Over and over again during the next two months. Helpless to put a stop to it. Not even wanting to.

She’d sent his self-control up in flames more times than he cared to remember. Had continued to push for more until he was so desperate not to lose her altogether that he gave in whenever she wanted.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut. He should’ve been more responsible back then. Wiser. Shouldn’t have blindly accepted her word that she’d been protected. That she’d taken care of things.

He learned later she deliberately hadn’t. And, as a result, they’d made a daughter then lost her. He’d almost lost Amy, too. All because of her selfish obsession.

“But you didn’t leave it at that,” he gritted, facing her. “You had to have your way.”

“I never meant to hurt you.” Her face flushed. “Not then and not now. As hard as it is to believe, that’s God’s honest truth.”

“We both have regrets, Amy.” He sighed and shook his head. “You were so young. You think that sits well with me? That I didn’t step up? Put a stop to things?”

She smiled. It was small. A joyless tilt. “I knew what I was doing, Logan. Even at nineteen. And even if you were my first.”

“I was never interested in being your first.”

“I know. You wanted to stay friends. Wanted me to grow up. Live and learn.” She released the rail, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Well, I have. I’m not that girl anymore. I’ve learned and I won’t ever be like her again.”

He clenched his eyes shut. She was right. He’d wanted to wait. Had spent so much time waiting. Waiting for her to mature. Waiting to see if her adoration grew into something real. Something he could trust. Her friendship had been too important for him to risk it.

“I really and truly thought back then that all you needed was a little push,” she said. “That if I could show you how I felt, you’d understand and feel the same. That you’d want the same things and I could make you happy.” A humorless laugh burst from her. “It was such a stupid teenage thing to do. So ridiculous. And you called me on it. Do you remember what you said to me?” she asked. “When I told you I was glad I’d gotten pregnant? That it’d been my intention?”

His stomach roiled, a roaring sounding in his ears.

“You told me I was selfish. That I had a selfish obsession.”

“I was angry.” Dragging his tongue from the dry roof of his mouth, he said, “I should’ve been less blunt. You were so young—”

“But it was the truth, wasn’t it?” She kneaded her nape with both hands. “I was selfish and obsessed. I never had a clue how to be a real friend.” She shook her head. “But that was the best lesson I ever learned. I’ve learned how to be a good friend, Logan. I have. And I finally did the right thing and filed. You don’t have to pay for my mistake anymore.”

A mistake. Their daughter a mistake. Their marriage a mista—

“Marrying you was not a mistake,” he rasped. “I chose to make you promises and I intend to keep them.”

“That’s my Logan,” she whispered. Her fingertips rose, bumping gently across the creases on his forehead and following the hard line of his jaw. “Always doing the right thing. The honest, honorable thing. That’s how you got into this mess to begin with.” She leaned in, her breasts brushing his chest. “We both have a chance to get out of this. To get our lives back. All you have to do is sign.”

He caught her wrists and pressed a kiss to her palms. “I vowed to take care of you and love you every day of my life. I don’t break my promises.”

She stilled, her expression lifting. “And do you? Love me?”

He eased his hold on her when the dig of fragile bone hit his flesh. “You were the best friend I’d ever had. I’ve always cared for you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” She stepped closer, the heat in her eyes burning into him. “You said you swore to love me. What does that mean to you?”

He clamped his jaw so tight he thought his teeth would shatter. Damn words. Every time he was near her, they jumbled up. They tied together in knots, clogging his throat and never escaping the way he intended. But not this time.

This one time, the bastards were sharp, clean and at the ready. And, he had no clue if they were the ones she wanted to hear.

“Tell me, Logan.” Her voice firmed. “What does loving me mean to you?”

“It means you have my loyalty. My fidelity and protection. And my support.”

Her face fell. The spark in her eyes faded, her long lashes swooping down and masking them. She placed her hand on his chest. Her favorite spot. The place she’d always clung to the hardest whenever he’d moved into her. Over her. The spot she’d nuzzled her cheek against every time he’d held her.

“Those are all very important things,” she said. “Very practical things. But what about your heart?”

His heart. Something so much weaker than his head. Erratic. Just like his mother’s when she’d abandoned her family for some other man. Like his father’s when he’d failed to function for months after she’d left. And like Amy’s all those years ago when she’d tempted him down a path he’d never meant to travel.

There were no sure things or guaranteed happy endings in life. Just chance and disappointment. Loyalty was much more tangible and steadfast.

Logan shook his head. “Hearts are unpredictable. Untrustworthy. The kind of love you’re asking for doesn’t exist, Amy. It’s just some notion thrown into kids’ fairy tales.”

Releasing her wrists, he smoothed his hands around her back, pulling her closer and trying not to plead. “I don’t break my promises. I’m offering you something real. Something you can depend on. Something we’ve both already sworn to each other.”

She straightened. That beautiful back of hers drew up into a proud tilt against his palms, breasts thrusting and stubborn chin jutting.

“That all sounds so nice,” she said. “But I’m not tying either of us to a vow we made as a result of my stupid teenage lie.”

“Amy—”

“You loved me as a friend. A young friend that just happened to grow up on the same ranch as you. I should have recognized that a long time ago.” She stepped back and trailed her hands from him. “I won’t take anything more from you. And I won’t let you sacrifice anything more for me. If I did, I’d be no more of a woman now than I was at nineteen.”

Logan’s gut roiled. So, she’d leave instead. He wouldn’t have her at all and it would amount to nothing more than a mistake. Another regret.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” she whispered. “More sorry than you’ll ever know.”

He clenched his teeth, half-afraid they’d crumble, and studied the tense curve of her jaw. They’d both always been hardheaded and Amy could hold out longer than anyone. But he’d never known her to be able to walk away from a challenge.

“It’s one thing to say it,” he said. “Why don’t you show me, instead?”

She glanced at him, features clouding.

“Stay,” he said. “Do right by your family. Do right by me.”

She shook her head. “It’s too late for that.”

“No. That’s just your excuse.” He shoved away from the porch rail and moved to the door, turning to say, “You haven’t changed. Don’t know a thing about loyalty. You’re no different now than you were back then. The girl that stood right in front of me and lied to get her way is the same woman that’s turning her back on her family now. And I’m your family, too, Amy. You worked hard to snag me. You oughta have the guts to stick it out.”

She flinched, body stiffening and face paling.

He watched. Waited. Then forced himself to turn on his heel and jerk open the door.

“Wait.”

He froze, the sweet sound of her voice sweeping over him. Turning, he watched her pick at her pants leg and shift from foot to foot. She came to a decision, stilling and drawing to her full height.

“I’ll stay,” she whispered. “Long enough to work with Thunder.”

“Absolutely not.” Logan held up a hand. “That horse is dangerous.”

“I can help him. You know I can.”

“Neither one of us knows that for sure, Amy.” He blew out a breath in frustration. “You could get hurt. Badly.”

“Then help me.”

He hesitated. If he refused, there was a good chance she’d leave or, worse yet, put herself in even more danger by trying to work with the horse on the sly. But his throat tightened at the thought of her approaching the maddened stallion.

She interpreted his silence as agreement.

“So it’s settled. I’ll stay. Just until it’s time for me to take up the post in Michigan. I’ll work with Thunder and help ease Mama into the idea of the move. But as for us,” she said, shaking her head, “I can’t stay in this marriage, Logan. It’s not good for either of us. We’d both be miserable.”

“What makes you so sure?” His muscles tightened, a wave of nausea flooding through him. “Is there someone else?”

“No,” she stated firmly.

He forced the next question past his constricted throat. “You’re not still hoping for another baby, are you?”

She recoiled, fear flooding her features, and shook her head.

He stepped forward and cradled her arms. “I’m sorry, Amy. I know how hard it was for you to accept that you can’t have any more children. But after Sara—” he swallowed hard, eyeing her pale cheeks “—I have no desire to have another child, either. So what’s to stop us? It’ll keep the family together.” He rubbed his thumbs gently over her skin. “Plenty of marriages have been based on a lot less than the friendship we have.”

“Had,” she stressed, moving away. “We lost our friendship along with everything else. And I won’t stay in a marriage out of duty.”

“That’s a damn sight better than throwing it away.” He spun the ring on his finger with jerky movements of his thumb.

Amy kicked off her shoes, slamming the loose heel against the porch rail to break it off, then did the same with the other and rolled up her pants legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting started,” she said, slipping her shoes back on and scooping up the beer bottle. “The sooner I begin helping Thunder, the better.”

She made her way down the porch steps, plucking the pins from her hair with one hand as she went and combing through the long, dark waves with her fingers.

“It’s too cold out, Amy.” He fell in line behind her, body tightening with a surge of heat at the supple sway of her hips. “Come back inside and get a good night’s sleep. It’ll wait ’til morning.”

“No time like the present.”

And that was it. That was all he got before she tipped up the beer and quickened her step, raven hair swinging as she disappeared into the dark night.

Logan stopped, rammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and headed back to the house. Stubborn, hardheaded woman. Only Amy would camp out in a stable in the dead of night, freezing her tail off. Hell if he’d encourage her.

He took long strides across the lawn only to halt at the foot of the stairs. He should let her go. Walk away. It was the sane, sensible thing to do.

And he almost did. Almost kept right on going. Into the house and an empty bed. Away from Amy. Away from the mess of their marriage. Only, his legs wouldn’t budge.

“Damn.”

Logan spun back around and followed the same path Amy had taken, moving swiftly across the field toward the stable.