“I don’t need to know the whole story to know it wasn’t your fault. I may not know much about you, and we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I know you’re a caring and compassionate man. I saw that when you went out of your
way to help a stranger and her kids on the side of the road during a snowstorm. I saw it when you spent time with my kids. I saw it in the way you looked when I told you about my husband. I don’t need to know the story to know that you would protect your family fiercely.”
He’s quiet for several moments, and several different emotions flash in his eyes. Anger is one of them.
“You wouldn’t feel that way if you knew what happened, how I didn’t protect them,” he says, his tone bitter.
“Then tell me.”
I want to know why he feels the way he does, because there is no doubt in my mind that his view of the events will be much different than mine. There’s no way this man, this wonderfully strong man, would stand by and watch his family die and not do everything in his power to stop it. I know this deep in my gut.
“I can’t.” His jaw clenches and even more pain fills his face. Moisture appears in his eyes, and he looks away for a moment, before pushing the tears away and bringing his gaze back to me. “It hurts too much to remember.”
To see such a strong man on the brink of falling apart has my own tears rushing to the surface, but like him, I force them away. He needs the people in his life to be strong, not break down.
I can see in his eyes that no matter how much I tell him that it wasn’t his fault, he still won’t accept it. The pain is too deep and he’s had years to embed the guilt inside himself. It makes my heart weep for him.
My curiosity to know exactly what happened to his family grows. What makes him think it was his fault? I’m sure I could ask just about anyone in town and they would tell me, but that doesn’t feel right, and I run the risk of them not knowing all the facts. I want to hear it from Alexander, not from someone who could mix up or warp the facts.
I step up, get to my tiptoes, and press my lips against his for a soft kiss. I want to memorize the taste of him, because I get the feeling I probably won’t get another chance to do it again.
I pull back and look into his eyes. “No matter how you may see yourself, I see a great and wonderful man standing in front of me right now.”
His brows lower into a frown as he looks down at me. His hands flex against my scalp, and I watch a war rage in his eyes. A minute later, he gives his head a small shake and he unlocks his fingers from around the back of my head. Disappointment and a fierce burn settle in my stomach when he takes a step back, both mentally and physically putting distance between us. He’s pushing himself away from me.
I’m forced to let go of his shirt, and I drop my head to hide the hurt his rejection causes. I force air into my lungs and try to compose my face before looking up at him. I can tell he doesn’t like his decision any more than I do.
“I’m sorry.” His Adam’s apple bobs.
My smile is sad. “I know.”
We stand in the kitchen silently for a moment, before I force myself to turn away from him. I grab my keys, which I dropped on the counter when I got here.
“I should go. My friend Emma has the kids and we’re due to go out to Jeremy and Mrs. Peggy’s house this evening. I still need to get the puppy settled in before we leave.”
I feel rather than hear him walk up behind me. I hold my breath and close my eyes, hoping he’ll touch me again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just stands there. I feel his breath against the back of my neck. I close my eyes, wishing he’d lean closer.
“I’ve got a crate on the porch you can use for the pup,” he says.
Not waiting on a response from me, he walks out the front door. I look around the house one more time, hoping the pain of not being here anymore will go away soon. Seeing Pepper curled up on the floor by the couch, I walk over to her. I squat down and the rest of the puppies come bounding over, with Gigi trotting behind them. I give each a pat on the head and Gigi a rub and kiss on the tip of her nose before scooping up the runt.
Careful to not let the other puppies through the door, I slip outside and close it behind me. Alexander has the small crate sitting on the railing of the porch, and I approach him. I slip the puppy inside and he closes the latch. Without a word, he picks up the crate and we both walk to my truck. The further away from the house I get, the more it feels like I can’t breathe properly. In the short time the kids and I were here, it became our home. I know it has more to do with the owner of the cabin than the cabin itself.
I open the passenger-side door and he sets the crate inside, then slides the seat belt across it to secure it better. The act makes me smile. He even worries about the puppy being safe.
Once he’s done, he closes the door and turns toward me. I desperately want to reach out to him, and I know he wants to do the same. I can see it in the stiff way he’s holding his body, like he’s forcing himself back. I wish he would give in.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“You’re welcome. Tell the kids I said hi and Merry Christmas.”
“I will.”
It takes everything in me to force my legs to move to the other side of the car. He doesn’t follow me, and I wonder if it’s because if he does he won’t let me go, or he’s worried he’ll snatch me in his arms and kiss me one last time. I don’t think I’ve ever wished for anything more to happen than I do that.
We stare at each other for a moment from over the top of the truck. My keys dig in my hand so hard I worry it might break the skin.
“Goodbye, Alexander.”