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

Jake carefully pulled away from his father. He bent down and picked up the pieces of his mug and then grabbed a cloth from the sink to wipe up the mess. When he was done, he shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders forward. He was freezing.

Outside, it was still pitch dark, though a frosty December moon shimmered along the top of the still-unfrozen water. Snow was falling, nothing more than a light dusting really, and the wind was all but gone. Crystal Lake was as smooth as glass.

In another lifetime he might have gone back to bed. He might have tried to get some rest, but in this life that he was left with, that wasn’t an option. Even though he was bone tired, he knew that hard, physical labor was the only thing that settled him.

He should go.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, not knowing what else to say.

“Jake, I need you to get better,” his father said quietly, and it was that quiet strength that got to him. Jake blew out a hot breath and took a moment to compose himself. He wasn’t a child, for Christ’s sake, but sometimes the thought of launching himself into his father’s arms was more than he could bear.

“I’m trying,” he managed to say.

“Not good enough.” Gone was the warmth. “You need to try harder for the people who love you. For your mother and me…and for Raine. She needs you more than you know, and I’m pretty damn sure she’s not going to make it through unless she has you in her corner.”

Jake blinked, his chest beating hard. But what could he say? He’d failed them all, Jesse the most. If they knew the truth, would they still be so damn gung ho to keep him around?

“You get that, right?” Steven ground out. “We need you, Jake. This family needs you.”

Jake stared at his father for a long time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was subdued. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to good. After—” His voice hitched and he cleared his thro

at. “After what happened over there, I don’t know if it’s possible.” He paused. “But Dad, you have to know I’m trying. I’m trying my best, and right now that’s all I got.”

For several long moments the two men stared at each other, and then Steven nodded. “Okay then.”

***

Less than an hour later, Jake pulled up to Wyndham Place and parked near the new refuse bin that had been dropped off sometime last night. It was empty, and if he wanted to make a dent in the pile of crap out front, he’d best get started.

The sun was now up, and with the temperature hovering around the freezing mark, it wasn’t all that cold. With only a few weeks until Christmas, he was damn lucky to have escaped any real major snowstorms, but one was on the way.

Jake exited his Jeep and glanced up at the sky. It was filled with dark gray clouds and he figured they were in for one hell of a snowfall in the next twenty-four hours. A thought crossed his mind and he made a mental note to dig around his father’s garage for his snowmobile.

Maybe a ride would help clear his head later, but in the meantime—he glanced at the pile of crap again—he had other things to occupy him.

He took two steps and noticed tire tracks leading to the stone cottage. The overgrown cedar hedge didn’t let him see shit, but the tracks were fresh, and there was only one set going in. What the hell?

He took off, thinking it was most likely a teenage couple using the place for what most of them had done through the years—getting lucky. But it was time to let them know that a new owner had taken up residence and the cottage was off limits, and anyone thinking to use it for a quick lay was trespassing.

He followed the tracks down the path, and when he rounded the corner, he tripped over something that tied up his feet but good. With a curse Jake tried to keep his balance but instead fell backward onto his ass.

“Jesus!”

Jake landed in mud and wet snow and was immediately attacked by a bundle of fur that came with a wet, sloppy tongue and the unmistakable odor of puppy breath.

Gibson.

The little bastard strained against Jake’s hands, trying to get to his face, but damned if he was going to let Raine’s puppy lick him as if he were a piece of candy. Everyone knew dogs spent half their time licking their junk. He shoved the puppy off him. No way was he getting close to that.

“Gibson,” he growled. “Stop.”

But the dog just yipped happily and jumped toward him, his tongue aimed for Jake’s mouth again. Firmly, Jake grabbed Gibson by the scruff and tucked him into his embrace. He got to his feet, spying Raine’s rust bucket a few feet away. He also noticed for the first time that the lights were on inside, which surprised him. He had assumed the electricity didn’t work out here.

Carrying the squirming puppy, he marched toward the house. His ass was wet and his black mood had just got blacker. What the hell was Raine doing out here anyway? He wasn’t ready to see her again.

Not after last night. Not after he’d come so close to taking something that didn’t belong to him.

He opened the front door and strode into the cottage, his eyes finding Raine almost immediately. She was in the kitchen area, hunched over the sink, scrubbing away and humming along to whatever was playing on her iPod.