Page 83 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
I straightened, closed the grate in front of the fire, and deliberated where I should sit. In my month with Winter I’d never been so unsure of how to act—well, minus those first few days where I had to get used to her incessant chit chat and bubbly personality. I’d found it grating then. In the last few days since she left? I’d have given anything for her company.
I sat in the opposite corner of the sofa from her.
She angled her body toward me, drew one leg up, and tucked it under herself. “How have you been?”
“Pretty bad, to be honest. You?”
“Same.”
“I… I’m sorry, Winter. I thought… fuck. I thought I was doing the right thing when I told you to leave.” I raked my fingers through my hair and leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees. The fire crackled and the flames reached to lick the cavern of the chimney. “But as soon as you were gone, I started to question myself. Everyone was quick to tell me how badly I’d messed up, by the way.”
She stared at her hands. “Why did you send me home? Why did you think it was the right thing?”
I resisted the urge to clam up and shut down. “I couldn’t rationalize letting you pick me over your studies. No matter which way I cut it, I kept coming to the same conclusion, which was that you had more opportunities and more life to live back in Portland. If I didn’t send you home, I worried you’d bow out of the spring program.”
“You didn’t think it was worth a conversation?”
I splayed my fingers, exasperated with myself. “At the time? No. I didn’t want to give you a chance to talk me out of it.”
“And now?”
“Now I wish I’d done it all differently.”
She nodded slowly, digesting, processing. “I wish you had, too.”
“Veronica had dreams, too.”
Winter looked over at me.
I stared into the fire. “She wanted to be a mother. Badly. She wanted to fill this house with kids, and I kept putting it off, and putting it off, all because I was too busy worrying about work. It was always work. I picked it over her every time, even when she asked me to choose her. I made her seek out my attention…” I trailed off, guilt wrapping itself around my windpipe like an anaconda. “I regret a lot of things in my life, Winter, but nothing compares to the regret I have from my marriage. Veronica deserved better. She deserved a husband who got up and walked away from his desk when she came looking for him at eight o’clock at night. I wasn’t that guy for her, and I never faced the music until she was gone. It’s haunted me ever since. I was terrified of making the same mistake with you.”
“We aren’t the same,” she whispered. “You have never made me feel like that. You made me feel special.”
“That’s not what I mean. If I’d prioritized Veronica’s dreams alongside mine, she’d still be alive. The car wreck never would have happened. But I didn’t, and I can’t help her. I could, however, help you.” I looked pointedly at her. “I know it’s fucked up. I know I can’t use my past to justify the mistakes I’ve made with you. But I’m starting to understand myself better, and sending you home made me realize that not only was I trying to protect you from giving up your future, but I was trying to protect myself.”
“From what?” she whispered.
“Pain.”
Winter shifted and moved onto the middle sofa cushion so she could reach out and put her hand on my knee. “North.”
I closed my hand over hers. “I thought if I walled myself off, nothing could hurt me again. I was wrong. Being alone is harder. And being with you taught me that. I don’t want to move forward without you. And I don’t want you to give up school, either.”
“Since when can I only have one or the other?” She searched my eyes. “You’re playing by a set of rules I don’t subscribe to. I can have my cake and eat it too. We both can. I never wanted to lose you. You’re why I came back.” Her eyes grew glassy and she giggled. “I told my parents about you. About how you make me laugh and how I feel when you walk into a room. I told them how you challenged me and made me grow, and how you set a high standard, and how more than anything I wanted to make you proud of me. I told them you were a brooding grouch on the inside, but once I got to know you, I discovered that you were the kindest, steadiest, most loyal man I’d ever met.” She sniffled as a tear fell free. “How can you expect me to walk away from all that?”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I’ll never hurt you again.”
“The people we love always hurt us,” she said. “Just don’t ever send me away again, and don’t make my choices for me.”
“I promise.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles. “Did you saylove?”
Her cheeks turned neon pink. “Maybe.”
My heart thundered in my chest. “I love you too, Winter Dodson.”
