Page 12 of When You're Home for the Holidays
“Yes.”
“And you’ve eaten? You’ve got snacks for the drive?”
"Yes and yes."
“Packed up?”
“Yes.”
“Sober?”
“Yes.”
Rhett didn’t mind the inquiries, nor did he take offense to the last question. He knew it would be a long time before anyone in his life trusted he was sober without having to ask. He was grateful Jake cared enough to question him. This was the way it was now, the way it had to be. Total honesty. Complete candor.
He had lost the privilege of the benefit of the doubt six months ago. If he was honest with himself, he should have lost it long before that. He’d been sneaking around for weeks, hiding his drinking, taking risks, and making wrong calls.
He still couldn’t figure out what the hell had compelled him to actually get behind the wheel that night. Even drunk, evenwasted, he knew better and expected more of himself. The why didn’t matter anymore. He accepted the burden of the pain he had caused and the shame of his poorest choices.
“Okay, cool. It sounds like you’re all set. If you want to send me your route, I can try to find you a meeting along the way.”
Rhett was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and care on the other end of the line. Jake had been so focused—obsessed, really—with controlling everything and taking care of everyone else for so long. His gut reaction was to insist he didn’t need help. But that wasn’t his truth. Not anymore, at least. He had learned time and time again this year that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to be alone, and that he usually failed miserably when he tried to handle things alone.
“I love you for thinking of that and offering, bro. Seriously. But I don’t think I want to add on the pressure of needing to be at a certain place at a certain time. There are just too many variables up in the air that I can’t control already. I’ll call you if I change my mind, though. And I was already planning to call my sponsor at some point today anyway.”
“You’ve got this, Rhett. You can do this.”
“I just want to get there,” he sighed.
“Drive safe, brother. Text me when you leave, then call me two hours into the drive.”
Chapter seven
Tori
Shefelthisbodyslot into place behind her before her brain could connect the dots. Awareness prickled through her limbs as realization settled in.
“Hi, beautiful,” he murmured in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.
“You’re here?” she exclaimed, turning over in his arms and lifting one hand to the side of his face.
She grazed her fingers against his stubbled jaw, tension melting from her body as the presence of her husband lying beside her filled her senses. She could barely see him in the dark, but she could feel him. Solid. Steady. Right there.
“You’re really here,” she choked out in disbelief. Her words almost caught in her throat as every emotion she’d been trying to ignore finally released. She was overwhelmed and overjoyed. It was like all the stress and anxiety of the last few days swirled up in one final cyclone before coming to settle like silt.
“I’m really here. Merry Christmas Eve, V.” He gripped the back of her neck and brought his forehead to rest on hers. The possessiveness of his touch was a balm to her chaotic mind. She felt nothing but peace wash over her in that moment. “I missed you so damn much,” he confessed on an extended exhale. She swore his voice shook slightly with the admission.
He made it. He was here. He was home.
Her body responded to his proximity in every way. It was more than just physical—it was that soul-deep connection clicking back into place in the most satisfying way after the threat of not being together had loomed over them for days. She traced the outline of his chest, letting the solidness of his frame convince her nerves that this wasn’t a dream, that this was really happening.
“Kiss me,” she demanded. She sought his lips, desperate to be in his orbit. He met her mouth with a hurried kiss that blossomed into an unhurried, tantric caress. The initial urgency was for her, but the way he slowed down and made love to her mouth was for both of them. His tongue teased along the seam of her lips, and she welcomed him in. He savored her with that kiss, licking and nipping in the familiar way that sent tingles all the way to her core. It was a kiss of longing, a kiss of devotion. A kiss that made her feel the depths of his love.
She moved her hand up his back, pulling him closer as her fingers landed on the nape of his neck. “Your hair…” she mumbled as he moved from her lips to the side of her neck. “It’s all wet. Is it still raining?”
“No, I think it’s going to be a white Christmas after all. It started snowing as soon as I crossed into Michigan.”
“Wait,” she faltered, trying to process what he just said and make sense of his words. “What do you mean when you crossed over? Did you drive?”
