His Christmas Wish (6 page)

Her hand pressed against his chest and he trembled, imagining how it would feel against his bare skin. How soft her skin would be. How sweet her touch. It was everything he needed, softness and comfort. He dreamt of it, of her, night after night. The tangible and intangible—the rarest of commodities while fighting a war. “That’s how it goes for us.”

Clasping her hand tighter to him, he watched as her lashes drifted down and her pink lips parted on a sigh. God, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to devour her, mark her and claim her for his own. He knew that if he kissed Sage, he wouldn’t stop until he was inside of her and she was crying out his name.

“
Do it already,” Sage said. “It’s why you’re here.”

He jerked away from her. A bucket of ice dumped down the front of his pants wouldn’t have been more effective than her words on his libido. There was no way in hell he’d touch Sage now, not with her thinking herself a martyr, or that she was just a convenient piece of ass for him. “No.”

Her eyes snapped open. “No?”

“
No, because when we make love—”He ignored her snort.—“it’ll be for all the right reasons. It will be because you love me as much as I love you and want to stay married. I won’t accept any less.” He stalked past her, then paused beside the kitchen counter and tossed over his shoulder, “Thing is, Sage, I didn’t drive for twenty-six hours
just
to fuck you. That I could’ve gotten in Texas, without all the bullshit.”

Sage made an inarticulate noise as he walked down the hall to her guestroom.

His wallet smacked the wall near his head, but he didn’t take the bait. If Sage had wanted to hit him, she could have—without trying. When they were in high school, she had been captain of the varsity girls’ volleyball team and her deadly accurate serve had won many a game.

He calmly shut the door and locked it behind him. Time for Plan D.

Sage sat in the living room, pulling out the last of the Christmas decorations with jerky movements that sent a helpless elf flying across the room to land on top her fireplace mantle. She retrieved the elf, tossed in on the sofa and sat down in one of the large chairs by the bay windows.

For over an hour, she’d been out here alone. Blue Moon had called to cancel their order, because the roads had become too slick. Snow fell in thick white flakes beneath the yellow glare of the utility pole in her yard.

Curling her legs to one side, she balanced her elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned her jaw into her hand. She sighed, thick and loud enough for him to hear, but Joaquin remained in the guestroom. She’d offered to fix him something to eat, but he had declined through the door. God forbid he actually open it and talk to her.

Although she couldn’t exactly blame him for not wanting to come out.

There had been no excuse for what she’d done. She’d never been a violent person in her life; never striking out at anyone with pure spite. The only reason she’d missed hitting Joaquin in the head was her last second hesitation. The only reason she’d thrown the wallet was because what he had said pissed her off. Instead of using her words, like she would have scolded her students for not doing, she resorted to throwing things.

But there was so much water under the bridge, and he’d broken her heart once before.

Rising to her feet, she moved to her bedroom and pulled out the stack of letters she’d left on her dresser. Briefly, she contemplated throwing them in the fireplace.

Her fingers traced the thin yellow ribbon holding the letters in one tight bundle. It could not have been true what he had written. She must have imagined the emotions in his letters, the heartbeats in his words and the love in every paragraph.

Determined to prove him a liar, she pulled out the third letter from the bottom and removed it from the envelope, then sat down on the bed and began to read.

Dear Sage,

There are times when words cease to matter. When words cease to be able to describe the horrors I’ve seen, the people I couldn’t help and the rage I had to keep in check.

Today was one of those days.

But if I don’t get it out, if I don’t tell someone—I’m going to go out of my mind. If you want to stop reading now, I won’t hold it against you; just the thought that you’ve got my back and won’t give up on me gives me comfort and keeps me sane.

It’s a razor thin edge, sweetheart, but I’ll keep walking the line for you.

Our mission was nothing unusual—taking wheat and water to the locals, and keeping our eyes and ears open for any insurgent talk. I guess you could say we’d gotten a little cocky, a little too used to ordinary days of war (if ever such a thing existed).

Sanford was moaning about having to relieve himself every five minutes. Pretty soon the rest of the guys were joining in and I was the only adult. It reminded me of this trip I took to Miami with my cousins. What should have taken thirteen hours, ending up being almost twenty. I thought my dad and Uncle Cesar were going to lose it and kick us all out of the van before we hit Las Palmas.

Finally, growing so sick of their bitching and moaning, I ordered the convoy to stop and for everyone to get out. So we’re all standing around, stretching our legs, but keeping an eye on things, when I see a local heading our way. He’s walking all determined and I notice Sanford gets this funny look in his eye, before he starts heading for the local.

Everything inside of me is screaming that something wrong. I start shouting at him to get back, but that hardheaded ass doesn’t listen. The local starts running away from us, I start running and so do three of my men. Next thing I know, Sanford tackles the bastard and there's a loud noise; moon dust starts flying everywhere and my ears are ringing. I’m on the ground, sprawled on my stomach and coughing up sand. The whole situation is FUBAR.

Visibility is nonexistent, but I scramble to my feet and start shouting Sanford’s name. My ears are still ringing and I start stepping on things, only those things turn out to be hands and feet and, well, you get the picture.

I found Sanford only a couple feet away, his mouth open and staring at the sky. He starts blinking, and so do I, because half his body is missing and he’s bleeding out. The rest of our brothers join us, keeping watch and trying to get Sanford as comfortable as possible.

What I am supposed to tell his wife? His little girls?

Jesus Christ, I want to scream. I want to rip the bastard that blew up my brother into pieces, but he’s dead. And the worse part, the biggest fuck you of all, was his death was instantaneous while Sanford held on while we waited for Medevac. All I could do was grip Sanford’s hand and lie to him. Give him bullshit lines that everything was going to be okay.

Tell me, Sage. Write to me and tell me that what I feel for you is real—that what you feel for me isn’t a fucking dream. That I haven’t been reading between the lines you’ve written.

If I’m wrong, then feed me bullshit lines. Maybe that will fill up the hallow parts of my soul.

All my love,

J
Gage

So she had, but she hadn’t fed him lines.

Dear Gage,

I love you.

No matter where you go, or what you have to do in this hateful war, I won’t stop. You are a good man, an honorable one and I wish I could be with you.

I’d hold you tight, so tight that you could feel my heart as it beats for you. Keep walking the line for me, but just know that I’ll catch you if you fall and help you get right back on.

Since I can’t be with you, I’ve sent my emissary. She’s soft and fluffy. There are some spots on the ears that are missing fur, but it only means she’s been well loved.

A long time ago, there was a boy who loved a girl, and she loved him right back. Well, this girl wanted the ugliest looking bear you’d ever seen. But to her, it was so ugly it was cute. Anyway, that boy, despite his grumblings, spent fifty dollars playing a rigged county fair game and won that bear. (A bear that they would later find out cost five dollars at Wal-Mart.)

Unfortunately, the boy and girl couldn’t stay together forever—no matter how much the girl wished they could have, so she took that ugly bear and slept with it every night, instead of the boy she loved.

Now that ugly bear’s ready to give you sweet dreams, but only on one condition You have to deliver my bear
in person
when you get back. And you will come back. Come home to me. Spend Christmas with me…maybe even longer.

All my love,

Sage

There was only one person she would have sent that ugly bear to and that was Joaquin, only she’d been too much of a coward to admit it. He’d all but shouted who he was in his last letter.....In every letter.

She owed him the chance to tell his side—and she owed him an apology.

The house was quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator and warm air blowing through the vents made any noise. If the auxiliary heat came on, she’d have to start using the wood-burning fireplace.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she made her way out of her room and down the hallway. He didn’t answer on the first knock so she tried again. She tried turning the knob, but it was locked; however, the key was sticking out on top of the frame and she made use of it.

Light from the hallway illuminated her way as she tiptoed to the side of the bed. She found him bare-chested, with the covers riding low on his hips as he slept. The St. Christopher medal she’d sent him, hung on a thin gold chain around his neck.

“
Oh my God,” she gasped and smacked her hand over her mouth.

A guilty flush heated her cheeks. She really shouldn’t be ogling the man in his sleep, but his body fascinated her. It was different than what she remembered, but parts of him remained the same. He was still lean, but new muscles from hard work defined his chest and arms, his abs and the dents on the side of his hips.

He mumbled, then moaned. His hands unclenched and clenched into fists. His moans turned into shouts as he tossed and turned in the bed.

Sage reached out, murmuring his name over and over as she lightly touched his face. Joaquin began to settle down and finally his breaths became less labored. She smoothed away the damp hair from the top of his brow. It had always grown fast. He had told her in his letters that he didn’t have to keep it in a buzz cut anymore, because the Army had slightly relaxed its rules in order to attract new recruits.

She began to rise from the bed, but he grabbed her hand and held it to his chest. His skin was smooth and hot to the touch. “Don’t go.” His eyes slitted open. “Nightmares.”

“
I’ll stay for as long as you need me, okay?” She sat down beside him and he scooted over, making room for her. However, her hand stayed firmly in place. “Do you wear that often?” She touched the gold chain with her free hand, then placed her hand back on the bed.

“
All the time.” As his eyes drifted shut, she thought he whispered, “Thank you.” Or had it been, “Love you.”

Her heart flipped in her chest and tears tightened her throat.

It didn’t matter what he said, she knew what he meant. She slid down into the bed, lying beside him with his heart beating steadily under her palm as she breathed him in.

Chapter Six

He woke up with the unmistakable shape of a woman’s breast in his hand and her ass tucked in his groin. Automatically, he pressed closer and pulled her tighter against him. The scent of vanilla invaded his senses as silky hair tickled his mouth.