The Christmas He Loved Her (Bad Boys of Crystal Lake 2)

“Jake?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Yeah?”

“Don’t go.”

For one second, his mind emptied and the need he thought he heard in her voice called to him. He turned back to her. He couldn’t help it. Jake Edwards was that weak.

“Please stay. Don’t go back with her.”

“Her?”

“Barbie.”

Jake sighed and left without another word. He closed the door to Raine’s bedroom and, instead of leaving, wandered into her kitchen. He flipped the light switch and stared at the perfectly organized, clean space. He crossed to the fridge and yanked it open, his anger expanding at the sight of how poorly stocked it was. A carton of milk, some eggs, cheese, a near-empty bottle of ketchup, and a takeout box of half-eaten chili from in town. Her pantry was no better. Hell, she had more food for the dog than she had for herself.

He left the kitchen and lingered in the family room, his gaze settling on the bag he’d brought back from Texas. It was still where he’d left it on the coffee table, and from what he could tell, Raine hadn’t poked around inside it.

His fingers ran over the worn leather and he lifted it off the table. There was some weight to it, and though he’d wondered what Jesse had stowed inside, he’d never opened the damn thing—for the simple fact that it wasn’t his to open.

For several long seconds he stared down at the bag, and then his gaze drifted to the window, out into the starless, cold night. The security light that sat near the edge of the forest was on, its stark circle of illumination sparkling among the snowflakes. Huge, fluffy flakes drifted toward the earth in a lazy dance until they fell to the ground.

By morning the grass would be covered with a blanket of the cold, frozen stuff. Winter had finally arrived, it seemed.

He eyed the sofa and then glanced down the hall toward the front door. Indecision ate at him, but before he could analyze things any more, Jake sank onto the sofa and dropped his brother’s bag onto the floor beside it. There was no point in heading back to his parents’. He wouldn’t sleep anyway. Better to hang here in case Raine needed him.

It seemed as if some decisions came easier than others.

His eyes drifted back to the snowflakes and he stretched out his long legs. There was a time when the first snowfall was like a gift from the gods. It meant snowmobiling through the brush with his brother and their buddies, Cain and Mac. It meant nights of bonfires, beer, and girls. Reckless stunts, racing across frozen lakes, and skiing by firelight.

He’d been invincible then. All of them had. Untouched by tragedy, with the innocent mind-set of youth. Never in a million years had he ever thought Jesse would be dead at the age of thirty.

His gaze moved from the snow up to the ceiling as the emptiness inside him, ate through the cold shell of his heart. Call it what you will—a twin thing, a sibling thing—the moment Jesse had passed, Jake had been cut open, and he’d been bleeding ever since. He didn’t think it would ever stop.

God, he was so tired, but sleep was a monster that left him utterly wrecked. The nightmares, the cold sweats…the rage…they were his constant companions these days. No matter that outside a white wonderland was slowly shaping up, deep in his heart and mind there was only bleak, never-ending darkness. There was desert and sand, heat and death.

Jake tried to relax, hell, he even closed his eyes, but his thoughts kept him awake long after the clock circled around again. And again. And again.

He thought of those snowy nights from his past. They were a lifetime ago, and contrary to what some people thought, there was no going back.

Chapter 7

Winter came with an arctic blast as it had a habit of doing this time of the year in northern Michigan. One day, the smell of fall was still in the air and the next, winter’s kiss claimed the terrain. The snow had fallen steadily through the night, and when Jake finally rolled off the sofa, more than a little stiff and cranky, there were nearly four inches of the white stuff outside.

He’d dozed off and on but hadn’t succumbed to sleep. He couldn’t do it. Not here, with Raine. No one would hear how pathetic he sounded when ripped from sleep by the darkness inside him.

Especially not her. His pain would lead to questions never asked, to answers never given, and he didn’t know if he was strong enough to deal with that right now.

Jake stretched, rolled his neck and shoulders, and went in search of coffee. Considering the meager offerings he’d seen the night before, he wasn’t expecting anything but was pleasantly surprised to discover that though Raine hadn’t much use for food, apparently caffeine was still on the menu. And even though he was more of a cream kind of guy, there was two percent milk in the fridge with a sell-by date he could live with.

It was just after five in the morning, and while he waited for the coffee to brew, he filled a tall glass with water and rummaged through the cupboards until he found some painkillers.

Raine was still asleep and pretty much in the same position he’d left her in, though he couldn’t see her face from the mess of wild curls across it.

Jake placed the water on the table beside her bed and made sure it was in reach, along with two shiny, extra-strength red tablets. He paused for a moment, his chest constricting as he gazed at her, and gently moved the tangles from her face. Her nose twitched and she groaned softly, her legs moving as she burrowed deeper into the mattress.

He froze as her eyes fluttered open, dream filled and sleepy. For one second, a smile lifted the corners of her mouth and something inside him lightened. But then shadows fell into her eyes as memory returned, and the smile disappeared.

“Hey,” she murmured.