He hadn’t spent four years missing her and picturing a future with her, a future that hopefully included more children and family trips and holidays and traditions, to let go so easily. It was a life he wanted with every bit of his being…but it had to be right. For both of them. Otherwise it wasn’t the family life either of them desired.
He didn’t want a resentful or anxious wife. He didn’t want to be the source of someone’s anger, or worry.
He was who he was, and he was trying damn hard to do things better, but he’d never do everything perfectly. He’d make mistakes. He’d be impulsive, using his heart before his head. But that was who he was. He wasn’t Troy. Or Brock. Dillon or Cormac. He was himself.
Not bad.
Just not perfect.
Which was why he was trying to think of her, and what she needed. McKenna had been through a lot in her life. They never talked about what happened at the Douglas Ranch that one night, but he’d read about it in the papers. The murders had been discussed in agonizing detail around town. Trey’s dad had been one of the first responders on the scene, as the Sheenan ranch lay close to the Douglas property, but he wouldn’t talk about what he’d seen at the Douglas ranch, other than the thing he’d said when he came home: it was the worst, most violent scene imaginable, and if God had any mercy at all, he’d let that one poor boy survive.
Trey glanced up from the snowshoes to McKenna, watching her whisper something playful into TJ’s ear and making TJ giggle.
She deserved to be happy.
They all deserved to be happy.
Which didn’t mean he was walking away from her, or giving up on her, or giving up on them.
It just meant they had to be mature, and patient. They had to talk, and listen, and get a hell of a lot better at communicating.
They nailed some parts of it. They were experts at hot sex. But now they needed to get good at the other things, working together to make sure their relationship would last. He wanted what his parents didn’t have. A happy marriage.
A true partnership.
And you only got that with respect, trust, faith, forgiveness.
*
McKenna had forgotten that when Trey was hurt he grew quiet. She’d forgotten that he wasn’t loud and out of control, but silent and thoughtful. Reserved.
He was certainly reserved now. He’d shut down, retreating to a chair in the corner where he sat doing manly chores and repairs, like weatherproof the old wooden snowshoes.
She wasn’t trying to ignore him, but she wasn’t going to struggle to fill the silence with meaningless small talk, either.
However, once TJ fell asleep on her lap, worn out from sledding and snowball fights and tramping around in the snow, the living room, silent except for the crackle and pop of the fire, felt uncomfortable.
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. This wasn’t how she wanted Christmas to be.
She didn’t even know what had happened outside, earlier. Everything just seemed to shift and tilt and go wildly wrong.
She felt an ache as she watched Trey work, his dark head bent.
She wanted things different. She wanted them better. She wanted more with Trey, not less.
Not this.
Silence and anger and hurt.
Suddenly his head lifted and he looked up at her, his brow furrowed, expression shuttered. “If I didn’t want what was best for you, Mac, I’d be no man at all.”
“But who are you to decide what’s best for me?” she retorted defiantly. “Who are you to tell me what I need?”
“I know what you need. I’ve known you too long not to know. And for the record, I never said we’re finished, never said we’re through, because God as my witness, I will never ever walk away from you. I will always want you. I will always love you. And we might fight, and we might disagree, but that doesn’t mean I’m abandoning you. You’re my girl. But I’ve got to do right by you.”
“Then love me.”
“I do.”
“And don’t say we can’t make it work—”
“Never said that.”
“And don’t imply that you’re the wrong guy, or that there might be a better guy. Whether there is, or isn’t, is a moot point, because I want you. I choose you.” She drew an unsteady breath. “I love you.”
There was just silence for a moment, but it wasn’t the silence of before. This was soft and full…warm and hopeful.
“That’s why I climbed in the truck with you and TJ,” she added quietly. “I wasn’t being kidnapped. I wasn’t being forced anywhere. I wanted to go with you…I wanted to be with you. I’ve wanted to be with you since I was fifteen and thought you were my very own knight in tarnished armor.”
Creases fanned from his eyes. The corners of his mouth tilted. “Tarnished armor, hmm?”
She could see him back as they were in high school. She remembered how he’d avoided her all Fall of her freshman year, even though she knew he was aware of her. She knew he knew she was there. And she didn’t know why he kept his distance, but as the weeks passed, September to October, and then October to November, she didn’t want him to keep his distance. She wanted him close, talking to her, close, dancing with her, close, kissing her.
She just wanted him close.
She just wanted him. Not sexually—she wasn’t that mature, or precocious—but she craved his company and wanted to look into his blue eyes and see if she could see more, see deeper. She wanted to look until she was full, look until her heart was overflowing.
“I chose you a long time ago,” she added, voice dropping to a whisper. “And we’ve had some hard years. Now we just have to figure out how to make this work.”
*
They made love in the four poster log bed in the master bedroom, beneath the heavy handmade quilts, with the snow stacked on the windowsill, blocking out much of the moon light.
They’d waited years to come together, years to be one, and the lovemaking was slow and hushed, breath catching, lips touching, hands skimming. Trey took his time kissing her, kissing everywhere, enjoying the satin and silk of her skin, the warmth of her body, the curves that were uniquely hers. He breathed her in, the heat, the taste, the scent and he loved her so much, so deeply, that in some ways he didn’t know where he ended and she began.
She was that much a part of him and his heart.
For the first time in a long long time, McKenna felt completely safe. Completely at peace.
She was lying in the circle of Trey’s arms, her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart. She could feel his strength, his power deceptive when he was relaxed.
He shifted, rolling her over onto her back to look down into her face. “I want to marry you,” he said. “I want TJ to have us, both of us together. A real family. He deserves that. We deserve that.”
“Are you proposing, Sheenan?”
His lips curved but his expression was fierce, intense. “We were engaged the last time I saw you.”
She swallowed, nodded. True. “I still have the ring. It’s at the bank, in a safe. I didn’t want anything to happen to it.”
“Speaking of rings, where is Lawrence’s? I haven’t seen you wear it since we left White Sulphur Springs.”
“It’s tucked away to return it to him once I’m back in Marietta.” She reached up to touch his cheek, her fingertips sliding over his cheekbone and then down along the hard chiseled jaw. “You know that I haven’t done this since you left, four years ago. There’s been no one but you. Ever.”
He frowned. “You and Lawrence…?”
She shook her head. “We agreed to wait until we were married. I think he thought I was virtuous. I wasn’t virtuous. I just wasn’t…eager. It was easy to wait.”
“How could you marry him then?”
“I was trying so hard to get over you. Trying so hard to build a life without you.” She gulped a breath. “Thank God you arrived when you did. If you hadn’t…” Her voice drifted away, her insides lurching. “It wouldn’t have been good
.”
“Then we need to make this good. We need to be good.” He turned his face into her hand, kissing her palm. “We can’t be hotheads anymore. Can’t be brash or impulsive.”
“You’re the impulsive one,” she countered. “You’re the one that leaps before looking.”
His lips curved. “Maybe.”
“Don’t be brash anymore. Don’t be stupid.”
“Ouch.” But he was smiling.
She smiled back, even as she wound her arms around his neck. “Be smart. Be safe. Be mine, forever.”
“I am, babe. Forever and ever.”
Chapter Fifteen
‡
TJ woke first. It was early, almost ungodly early as he shouted from the living room. “Santa came! Santa was here!”
McKenna quickly pulled her night shirt on and left the warm bed to shiver in the middle of the room. “Come on, Santa, you need to build a fire. I’ll get the coffee brewing.”
In the living room TJ was crouched by the Christmas tree studying the colorful packages that magically appeared in the night.
“Are any of these for me?” he asked, touching the gifts and trying to read names on the tags.
“I think most of them are for you,” she answered, smiling as she buttoned up the oversized Salish knit cardigan she’d turned into her robe. “Santa must think you’ve been a very good boy.”
“But someone wasn’t good,” TJ said, pointing to the row of stockings hanging from the stone fireplace. “One of them has black stuff in it.”
“Coal.”
TJ looked worried. “That’s bad.”
Yawning Trey entered the room and glanced up at the three stockings hanging from the stone mantle. Two red and green and cream stockings, and one green and white one. “Which is mine?” he asked.
“I hope you didn’t get the one with coal,” TJ said.
Trey glanced from the stockings to McKenna, an eyebrow rising. “Bad, huh?”
She shrugged. “It’s from Santa. He keeps the list, naughty and nice.” Then she crossed to his side, and leaned down to whisper. “Although last night I think you were both naughty and nice.”
His blue gaze warmed. “Very very nice.”