Page 39 of Catching the Mistletoe

Our eyes met. Gone was the distant, glazed-over look that had me freaking out earlier. Now, he just seemed... exhausted, like he’d run a mental marathon. It was the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix.

“Think I’ll take a walk,” he mumbled, his voice raspy, as if each word took effort.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. This was Mack’s moment, not mine. I was just glad he was back, even if “back” looked drained and worn out right now.

I slid out of his lap, and he let his arms fall away, giving me the space to move. He looked up at me, his hazel eyes intense but weary. “I’ll never talk about it,” he declared, as if setting a boundary he expected me to challenge.

“That’s fair,” I said, my voice steady. No judgments here.

He seemed to search my face for a moment, gauging my reaction. “There’s no file for what was done to me in that house. I don’t need to bring it all up.”

“No, Mack. You don’t.” I met his gaze, my own eyes unwavering. If he needed this wall between us, then so be it. The last thing I wanted was to add another layer of hell to whatever he was dealing with. I grabbed Evelyn’s phone from the counter. “You could call Noah, though, if you feel up to it.”

“Thanks,” he said, gripping the phone a bit too tightly. I turned, eager to retreat to the bedroom, to escape the tension.

“Little Dove?” His voice was a soft murmur, almost lost in the quiet.

I pivoted back to face him. “Yeah?”

He was standing now, turning Evelyn’s phone over and over in his hands. “Thank you.”

Even though the words were simple, they were loaded with an emotion he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—express any other way.

“You’re welcome.”

Then he was gone and the weight of the moment hit me like a hard kick in the guts. I walked into the bedroom, my feet dragging on the plush carpet, and plonked down on the edge of the bed.

Lowering my face into my hands, I finally let the tears fall. Big, ugly, cathartic sobs that I’d been holding back, because Mack needed strength, not a waterfall of emotions. But now, alone in this space, I let myself feel it all—the fear, the relief, the monumental effort of holding it together. And fuck, it felt like purging my soul.

CHAPTER17

Mack

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was Arabella. We were chest to chest and she was wrapped around me like a koala bear, her leg hooked over my hip, her face buried in my chest. I should move. Pull away from her. Give her some space. But this felt too fucking good to give up. I guess I was a selfish bastard, but I just didn’t have the strength for anything else right now. It didn’t escape my notice that we were on my side of the bed, which meant she’d come to me.

I tried to remember when exactly that had happened, but I couldn’t seem to get my brain to kick into gear. It was always like that after a fade out. I fucking hated it. Still, it could have been worse. Arabella said I’d been “out” for less than an hour. I knew from experience that if she hadn’t brought me back, I could have sat there all fucking night.

Then it was like she knew exactly how to be with me. No covert looks of concern, no begging for me to tell her anything. Just a quiet hug and calm acceptance. Very fucking soothing.

She stirred in my arms and let out a soft sigh, snuggling even closer, somehow. Her soft hair tickled my chin, and I ached to run my fingers through it, to feel the silkiness. Who was I kidding? I ached to do a hell of a lot more than that. The mere suggestion of it had my blood humming, making the need to get out of this bed right now almost overwhelming. The last thing Arabella needed was to wake up with a raging hard on pressed between her legs. Annnd, that had my dick twitching, because she was definitely close enough to feel it. So yeah, my brain might have turned to mush after yesterday, but my body still knew how to operate.

I needed to blow out the cobwebs. That’s what I needed. First, though, I needed Arabella to wake the fuck up so I could get up. As though she heard my thoughts, she stirred again, sliding her hand up my back and humming drowsily. The sound skimmed over my skin and that was it. I was getting out of this bed right the fuck now.

The moment I went to pull away, she opened her eyes, smiling at me sleepily. Not a trace of awkwardness at waking up, finding herself all tangled up with me. “Good morning.”

“Do you have pants?”

“Do I…have pants?”

“Yeah. It’s just that you always wear those skirts. With your boots.” Those hot, black knee-high boots. Groan.

“Yeah, I’ve got a pair of jeans, and my hiking pants, that I wore in Yosemite.”

Did she have to bring up Yosemite? “Great. I’ve got an idea.”

“Mmm? Sounds interesting.”

“It requires getting out of bed, Arabella.”

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