She shrugged out of her coat and turned to Jake, watching him as he slowly shed his leather coat. He tossed it on the chair beside the door and then stared at her in silence, running his hands through his hair—a nervous gesture—and something about the thick, brown mess got to her.
She took the few steps between them, reached up, and smoothed the longish waves, her fingers lingering along his jawline as she stared into the eyes of the man she loved. He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her fingers there as well, silencing him.
“I don’t want to hear ‘sorry,’” she whispered, watching the play of light in his eyes. “We’ve both done things that we’re sorry about, and Lord knows there’s a lot for us to talk about, but can it wait? Can we just hold each other and know that things are going to be fine? That our love is enough and all the other stuff is just white noise? I’m just…” She let out a long shuddering breath, her hands slowly caressing his cheek. “I’m just done with all the pain and the guilt. I love you, and right now, in this moment, it’s all that matters.”
“Sounds good to me,” he whispered, bending low, his mouth sliding across hers with a gentle swipe as his hard, muscled arms pulled her in close.
For the longest time, they stayed like that, two bodies melted into one, their breaths falling in sync with their hearts.
Eventually their hearts sped up and their ragged breaths filled the silence of the cottage as mouths slid across flesh, and tongues tasted each other. Jake’s hands ran across her body as if he were seeing it for the first time, and maybe in a way he was.
Jake slowly undressed her, his eyes reverent, his touch both tender and desperate. When they finally made love in the shadows cast by the Christmas tree, Raine felt him truly break free of the past, as if a bottle had been opened and all the darkness inside him had escaped.
It was in the way he held her. In the way his hands and eyes touched her.
And it was in the words he whispered in her ear.
Later, much later, after they’d made love again and she was snuggled in his warm embrace, Raine couldn’t remember ever feeling so contented. So loved and so cherished. She fell asleep, staring into tobacco-colored eyes that were filled with love and sex and need.
And the two of them slept for hours, undisturbed. No darkness. No bad dreams. Just plain old exhaustion to carry them through.
It was nearly nine in the morning when Raine woke abruptly. Gibson was whining at the door, and she carefully extracted herself from Jake’s limbs, rolled out of the blanket, and let the dog out.
She grabbed a robe and slipped it over her shoulders, setting the coffee machine up while waiting for Gibson to come back inside. It was snowing once more, big fat flakes that fell slowly from the sky—perfect for Christmas morning—and the lightness in her heart felt amazing.
After letting Gibson back in, she began to hum while cracking eggs into a bowl—French toast sounded mighty good. Raine giggled. She needed an influx of carbs after all the energy she had used up last night.
She was on her tiptoes, reaching up for little container of cinnamon she’d bought earlier in the week, when two strong, warm arms slid around her waist and tugged her backward. She leaned against Jake’s chest, so content and happy, she was afraid to say or do anything in case the spell broke.
“Merry Christmas,” he murmured near her ear.
“Same,” she said softly, her hands cupped over his as they lay against her belly.
“What are you making?”
“French toast.”
“I love French toast.”
“I know.” She paused and bit her lip, gathering what bit of courage she could find before she turned in his arms. “I need to give you something.”
Jake’s eyebrows rose and he cursed. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t…I mean, I wasn’t thinking Christmas and presents or anything like that. I don’t have anything for you.”
“Last night. What you did was the best present I could ever have had.” She moistened her lips and grabbed his hands. “Come with me.”
After leading him back to the sofa, she crossed over to the mantel, her fingers trembling, her stomach a crazy mess of nerves. But she had to do thi
s. It was time for all the ghosts to go away.
She saw that Jake knew what was in her hands even before she’d walked back to where he sat. His eyes dimmed a bit and his mouth set into a grim line.
“Where did you get that?”
“Lily,” she answered simply.
Raine held it out and waited while he fought some internal battle, and when he finally reached for the brown box, she felt like she’d just won one of her own. She sat down beside him as he stared down at the box, and she waited.
She waited at least five minutes, but eventually he opened it up and stared down at the medal. The Bronze Star. The medal he’d been awarded for his heroic acts the day their unit had been attacked. The day Jesse had died and Lily’s brother Blake had been injured.