Page 12 of A Mustang River Christmas

Chapter Four

He hadn’t meant to just say it like that. It was a little bit inelegant, the way it had just tumbled out of his mouth like that. But it had felt like the right time to say it.

It wasn’t like it was a secret.

He had intentionally fostered a life with more honesty because of that addiction, and he couldn’t go hiding it from Laney now.

He kept on working on the gingerbread house, though, while he continued to tell the story. “I was a hard worker. I was never interested in getting wasted. Ever. The only thing I ever wanted to do with my life was succeed. I found that success in kitchens. It was my whole identity. I was never home, I was a shitty husband. You know how it works when you’re working late nights at a restaurant, and you’re not home until three or four in the morning. And then after shift, I was drinking too much.”

“When you wrecked your bike⁠—”

“I wasn’t drunk. But I was leaving late, and I fell asleep. I was burning the candle at both ends, I was just being a fucking idiot, and an arrogant asshole on top of it. I lost perspective on everything. The things that were important to me, my health, my safety. And when I got in that accident, I lost the restaurant. I tried to go back to work, and I was in too much pain. I couldn’t stand on my feet for the hours that I needed to be on my feet, so I started taking too many pain pills to make it work. That’s the thing, I’m a control freak. I’ve never wanted to take something to get fucked up and to lose myself. My brain is important to me. But the trick was that the pain pills made me feel like I had more control. Like I could override what my body was telling me. Like I could do whatever I wanted to do. Because I didn’t have to listen to my pain receptors. It was intoxicating, literally. And then I turned the corner, and it didn’t make me better. It made me worse. I lost my job. Melinda kicked me out.”

Laney’s brow furrowed. “At a low point like that, she kicked you out?”

“We had a child, Laney. I was passed out on the couch half the time, not working. I think if we would have had a different relationship when that happened, maybe she would have tried to stick it out, but we didn’t, because I was pouring everything into my job, not into my marriage. And what was her reward for that? A deadbeat. She kicked me out, she wouldn’t let me see Chloe. That was when I went to rehab, and decided to get my shit back together, but at that point, the damage was pretty much done. From the time Chloe was nine to the time she was fourteen, I didn’t see her very much. It took a long time before Melinda trusted me again. And then in there, Chloe had her own feelings about the situation. She was angry. And I don’t blame her. Thank God, eventually, we patched things up. Eventually, Melinda trusted that my sobriety was sticking. And now we make do pretty well.”

She looked dumbfounded, and that didn’t really surprise him. He hid all that. Kept it pushed down. Presented an uncomplicated face to the world so that when he was presented to other people, they just didn’t ask questions. Because he wouldn’t lie. But he was also happy to avoid anyone being all that interested in his story.

He watched his own hands carefully as he placed tiles of gingerbread on the newly lined up wooden structure.

“I’m really sorry you went through that.”

“I’m sorry that I put my family through that.”

“It’s not like you intentionally hurt the people around you.”

“No. But when you’re a father, you’re supposed to be better than you are. Better than that. Look at what’s happening now. She’s here. And you came in and fought for her to get that job. Which I would have given her anyway, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

She moved closer to him, and put her hand over the top of his. “You didn’t have to tell me all that.”

Heat flooded his veins, anticipation. A kind of adrenaline he hadn’t experienced for a long time.

He turned toward her, their faces only an inch apart. “No, I had to tell you,” he said.

“You did?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I did.”

And then, he decided to do something he knew he shouldn’t do. Something he had been trying his damnedest not to do. But he hadn’t wanted anything for a long time. Not a single thing, nothing but redemption, and the long hard climb out of rock bottom.

Everything had been about that. Nothing had been about pleasure, nothing had been about need. By design, all of those things had been cleared from his body. He had decided that he didn’t get to have nice things. He didn’t get to have things that felt good, things that felt right or fun or pleasurable.

He didn’t let himself bake. And maybe when it came right down to it, it was a slippery slope. Because he had started doing it just a little bit when Chloe had come back into his life. Just a little bit for her, which felt right and okay.

But then he had let himself step into the kitchen with Laney. And now he was letting himself take another step. Letting himself take another thing that he wanted.

Something else he didn’t have the right to.

But before he could second-guess it, before he could let his inner martyr take the wheel, he closed the distance between them. Crashed his mouth down on hers.

She gasped, and he took advantage of that to slide his tongue against hers, to take the kiss deeper, harder.

Goddamn.

He hadn’t forgotten how to do this. But what he had forgotten was how good it felt.