Christmas in His Bed

She hadn’t expected him to reach up, to stroke his fingers along her cheek, to run his thumb along her lower lip. “Tatum, maybe I want strings—”

“No, Spencer. I can’t.” She turned her head, severing the contact. “I’m flattered but... Thank you for the toast.”

“She up?” Lucy’s voice echoed. “Just tell me you’re not banging an injured woman?”

He stood, tucking the Christmas present under his arm. She stared at the toast, focused on chewing.

“I’ll go, since Lucy’s here.” He walked out, leaving her door cracked open, preventing her from falling completely apart.

* * *

“MERRY CHRISTMAS.” CADY WAS all smiles as she and Patton hung their coats in his mother’s hall closet.

“You too,” Spencer said, returning her hug and shaking his brother’s hand.

“Patton showed me pictures of Tatum’s car. Holy crap, she was lucky.” Cady squeezed his arm. “She here?”

“She’s in the kitchen with Mom.” Spencer nodded, still numb from Tatum’s casual brush-off. It was taking everything he had to be civil. When all he wanted to do was yell or punch something. Considering his bruises might be gone in time for wedding pictures, adding new ones wouldn’t go over well.

Patton waited until Cady left before asking, “What happened?”

“Besides her wreck?” Spencer growled. He still hadn’t recovered from that. And now... “Shook me up—I’m not gonna lie to you.”

“And?” Patton asked, leveling him with his I-know-something’s-going-on look. “Don’t try to bullshit me.”

He swallowed, his gaze bouncing around the room as he murmured, “She ended it.” Saying it out loud made it worse.

Patton’s hand rested on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

“Can’t blame her.” He hesitated, knowing he was exposing more to his brother than he wanted. “Guess some things are too hard to recover from.”

Patton looked at him, not saying a word. His expression was hard, unreadable. “You’re not gonna give up?” Patton asked.

“I can’t make her love me.”

Patton sighed. “She’s the one. She’s always been the one.”

“Not disagreeing with you.” Spencer drew in a deep breath, trying to ease the tension as he added, “But thanks for the pep talk.”

“That’s what big brothers are for.” Patton winked and headed toward the kitchen.

But Spencer didn’t follow. He glanced at the clock. Eight o’clock. Christmas Eve. He should have four more hours to touch her whenever he wanted to. And, dammit, now that he knew she was saying goodbye, he wanted those four hours now more than ever.

Dinner was over, he’d made his way around the room and offered suitably affectionate holiday sentiments. And Tatum was in the kitchen, spending time with his family, instead of in his bed. As far as she was concerned, their time was up. While he couldn’t keep his eyes off the damn clock.

He should leave. Not that he was looking forward to a night on the lumpy couch in the garage, but staying here was too much like torture. He finished off the beer in his hand and—fool that he was—headed into the kitchen.

Tatum sat at the table, patched and bruised, and poring over a family album. He loved the smile on her face, the easy laughter that filled the room when Cady turned the album page. That was all he wanted, right there. For her to be happy. Even better if he was the one who made her happy.

Maybe Patton was right. Maybe he had to fight harder—show her how much he loved her. How good they would be, o

utside of the bedroom and in. She had to give him a chance. The thought of losing her altogether made him hurt.

“Spencer, you were an adorable baby.” Lucy grinned his way.

Tatum’s gaze met his. Even with the bruising on her temple, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Look at all those rolls,” Cady added, tapping the picture.