The Kidnapped Christmas Bride

He winced.

He deserved it, though.

“An Enderman,” TJ said brightly, breaking the silence. “You’re an Enderman, Dad.”

Trey glanced at him. “A what?”

“An Enderman,” TJ repeated. “An evil guy from Mine Craft. He’s all black kind of, like you.”

“What’s Mine Craft?”

“My favorite game. But I can only play on the weekends when I don’t have school and Mom lets me use her iPad.”

“Is there a good guy in Mine Craft?”

“Yeah, Steve. But I like Endermen better. They’re crazy. They’re also called Henchmen and they kill things—” he broke off, looked at Trey. “Not real things. It’s just a game. I promise.”

Trey wasn’t sure he liked being compared to a bad guy, and was pretty certain the comparison wasn’t lost on McKenna, either.

*

McKenna didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Only TJ would think it was cool that his dad was a bad guy.

A henchman.

Only TJ would love an Enderman over Steve, the Mine Craft protagonist.

Only TJ would enjoy the drama and be excited about a road trip with his man-in-black, bad guy father.

But she wasn’t TJ. She wasn’t a wild, reckless Sheenan. She was a Douglas. She tried hard to be good, and thoughtful. Kind.

And yet, being kind today ruined everything.

At the church, she’d wanted to be kind and protect Trey’s feelings. She’d tried to save him from being embarrassed in front of his son. What a tactical error that had been, because in trying to protect Trey’s feelings, she’d lost control of the situation, giving Trey the upper hand.

And he hadn’t worried about her feelings. He hadn’t worried about doing the good thing, the kind thing. No, he’d swooped in, and taken advantage of the upper hand. He’d exploited her weakness.

But then, when had Trey had ever tried to be kind?

She bit down into her lower lip, trying to hold in all the angry words, not wanting to escalate things further, not wanting to get hysterical when TJ was caught in the middle.

TJ.

She glanced down at him and he was smiling, blissfully oblivious to the angry currents, or maybe being a Sheenan, he just didn’t mind them. Maybe being a Sheenan, he enjoyed the tension and fighting.

It boggled her mind that her son, the child she’d raised single handedly for the past four years, was his father in miniature.

How was that right?

How was that fair?

But then of course, life wasn’t fair. She’d learned that in 8th grade when she’d kissed her family goodbye and hopped into seventeen year old Rory’s truck so he could drive her to Jessica’s for a sleep over.

Her parents and three youngest siblings were slain within a half hour of her leaving. Fifteen year old Quinn—the only one at the house who survived—had been bludgeoned like the others, and left to die.

Quinn wasn’t supposed to survive. It was a miracle he had. But that night changed everything. That night taught her that life was short, and fate was capricious, and there was only now. There was only the present. You couldn’t go back. You couldn’t live in the future. Instead there was today, and today was too important to waste with anger, hatred, or regret.

Far better to live fully. Far better to love completely. Far better to forgive and forget and count one’s blessings.

This was the philosophy that had allowed her to love Trey all these years.

Forgiving, forgetting. Counting one’s blessings.

But after fifteen years of forgiving and forgetting she was tapped out. Her patience and her emotional reserves were gone. She had nothing left to give Trey. Nothing left at all, she repeated, watching the purple sky darken until the truck’s head beams were just pale circles of light piercing the night.

Unable to bite her tongue a moment longer, McKenna blurted, “This is crazy, Trey.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”

She heard the disappointment in his voice and it made her ache, and the fact that she could still care about his feelings just made her angrier.

She shouldn’t care for him. She shouldn’t care at all. He deserved what he got. He did.

He did.

She swallowed hard, fighting the lump in her throat. “So what are you doing?”

This time he took a moment to answer. His big shoulders shifted. “Buying time to be with my son.”

“Wrong way to go about it.”

He laughed low, the sound mocking. “When have I ever gone about anything the right way?”

“It’s one thing at eighteen, Trey, another at thirty-something!”

“Yeah. I know.” He shot her a swift glance, his profile hard in the dim light of the dash. “On the bright side, at least I’m giving you the chance to reconsider your decisions, and maybe you’ll come to your senses and realize that Lawrence isn’t the right guy—”

“And you are?”

“No. Not saying that. Couldn’t say that, especially not now, after doing this, but there has to be someone else in Marietta for you. Marrying Lawrence would be a mistake, and you know it.”

“Falling in love with you was the mistake!”

“Probably, so let me do you a favor. Help you out before you compound your mistakes. You don’t want Lawrence. He won’t make you happy. You and TJ both deserve better.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know him!”

“I might not win any debate competitions, but I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Huh!”

“And Lawrence is weak. He has no back bone.”

“You think he should have wrestled you to the ground?”

“I think he needs to be a better role model for TJ.”

“What?” She shot TJ a swift glance and saw from his expression he was listening. She dropped her voice, trying to sound less agitated and confrontational. “He’s a perfect role model for TJ. He doesn’t drink or speed or stay out late or fight—”

“He probably pays all his taxes on time, too.”

“Yes, he does. And he donates money to lots of local charities.”

“What a great guy. Next thing you’ll tell me he volunteers to serve up meals at a homeless shelter on Thanksgiving morning.”

“He has in Bozeman, yes.”

“Wow, Mac. You lucked out. Larry Boy’s a real Prince Charming.”

“Yes. He is. And his name is Lawrence, not Larry, so knock off the attitude, turn

this truck around now, and take us back. I love him—”

“Please.”

“You’re so childish.”

“I’m not saying you need to love me, but honestly Mac, he’s too soft for you. And TJ will run all over him. Lawrence won’t have a clue how to manage our son.”

She looked away, staring pointedly out the window, even as his words ate at her, making her feel raw.

Trey was saying all the things she secretly worried about. Could Lawrence handle TJ? And maybe Lawrence could manage TJ now, but what about when TJ was ten? Thirteen? Seventeen?

What then?

But she wouldn’t let Trey know she was afraid, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead she had to get through to him. She had to talk sense into him, make him understand that this—what he was doing—was going to backfire in a horrible way.

“Just take us back,” she said, voice low. “It’s not too late to turn the truck around and take us back. I won’t press charges. I just want—”

“No.” Trey’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his broad knuckles shining white against his olive skin. “No,” he repeated more quietly. “I can’t. I want a chance to get to know my son first.”

“Just because I’m getting married doesn’t mean you’re losing your son—”

“That’s not true. You have custody. Full custody—”

“You weren’t around for shared custody, buddy.”

“I get that. But I also know how this will work. You marry Larry and TJ will live with you and Larry, and Larry will become the Dad. I’ll be that guy who sends lame gifts on birthdays and Christmas.”

“Then don’t send lame gifts.”

Trey shot her a narrowed glance. “In the old days I would have laughed.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause in the old days it would have been funny.” Her throat ached and her eyes burned. “But this isn’t funny, Trey. What you are doing isn’t funny. It’s illegal. You’re breaking the law. You’ll be going back to jail for a long long time—”