Christmas in His Bed

His heart seemed to stop. Then start up again, faster than ever.

“I thought there was something wrong with me—”

He shook his head. “No.”

She placed a finger over his lips. “And there was. I poured all of my love, everything I had, into you. So when we were done, I had to accept I was wrong...to learn what love was. To remember that I couldn’t let myself feel like that ever again.”

He closed his eyes.

“That’s why ending my marriage didn’t destroy me. So thank you for that.”

He looked at her then, his face so rigid and remote. He tried to sit up, but she shook her head, her hand firmly pressed to his heart. He covered her hand with his.

“That’s why you and I can’t have more than this. I know I wouldn’t survive this time.” But explaining why she could never love him didn’t change the fact that she already did.

10

SPENCER HELD HER against him. He’d scarred her. Left her broken. “I’m sorry, Tatum. I’m so damn sorry.”

She stared up at him.

“I did what I thought I had to do,” he said.

She frowned then, confusion marring her features. “What are you talking about?”

“I hurt you when I should have fought for you,” he confessed.

She tried to move, but he held her in place.

He knew he was entering dangerous territory but he wanted her to know the truth. “I knew you wouldn’t leave unless I made you.” His words turned gruff and hard.

She froze. “What?”

“Your mother—”

She held up her hand. “Don’t. She has nothing to do with this.”

“She has everything to do with this. I know it bothers you to talk about her. But it bothered me to know she was hurting you. I saw the bruises, Tatum,” he argued. “And I couldn’t live with it.”

“Let me go, Spencer,” she said softly.

He did.

She slipped from the bed, dragging the quilt with her. “I don’t understand.” She sat on the bench, her boots peeking out between the folds of the blanket. He waited. He should have kept his mouth shut, apologized without spilling his guts.

How many times had he woken up, dripping sweat and hating himself? If he could go back in time, he would handle it differently. He was a stupid kid who was trying to save the girl he loved. Breaking up with her hadn’t been the worst part of it. Having her come back, day after day, asking him to give them another chance. Whatever I’ve done, I can fix it. Her words had shredded him. She wouldn’t give up on him, on them.

“But you said... You said...” She looked so lost.

“I lied. I lied to get you out of here and away from your mother.”

“She was depressed, sick— She couldn’t control her moods. She didn’t know what she was doing, Spencer—”

“It didn’t matter.” He shook his head, sliding from the bed to stand before her. “She hurt you, mentally and physically. Don’t you remember how it was with us, Tatum? How much I loved you? I would have done anything, anything, to protect you.”

She stared at him, swallowing. “You used her words to drive me away? You told me there was something wrong with me.” She choked on the words.

There’s something wrong with you, Tatum. Fix it, or no one will ever love you, not really. He’d heard Tatum’s mom say them and felt the pain of those words. It wasn’t the woman’s fault that she was bipolar. But Tatum was the one that suffered when Jane Buchanan forgot to take her meds. Tatum was the one who cleaned up after her mother when she had a temper fit. Tatum was the one who took the abuse.