True-Blue Cowboy Christmas (16 page)

“Thank you,” he said stiffly, and then he walked up to his daughter's room. He was facing the inevitable here. It was a small town, of course, and everyone knew. He'd just never expected someone to maliciously throw it into her face like that. Not when she was seven.

Seven
.

He leaned his head against the wall next to her door. He could hear her crying. For a second he thought to ask his father's advice, but he didn't think he had the time. And more? His father hadn't been the best at handling hard, emotional things head-on.

Not without being drunk first.

Now there's an idea
.

Thack pushed the thought away by stepping into the room, only to find the door locked. He almost laughed. She so rarely got mad enough to lock her door, and it was futile. He kept a little key at the top of the door frame.

But, maybe he should give her the chance to open it herself. A say in her own life. Maybe…Summer was right and she needed a few minutes alone.

“Kate. Please. Let me in. We don't have to talk if you don't want to.”

After a few moments when he was sure his heart was being repeatedly ripped out of his chest, the doorknob shook and he heard the click of her turning the lock.

She didn't open the door, but after a few seconds, he turned the knob and stepped inside. She was curled into a ball on her bed, still in her coat and boots.

There were a million things he wanted to say, but none of them would help. This was what some unthinking ten-year-old had wrought—a pain Thack would never be able to erase for his daughter.

Slowly, carefully, he sank onto her bed. He toed off his boots, gently pried her sodden ones off, then lay next to her, wrapping his arms around her. After only a moment, she turned to him and burrowed into the circle of his arms.

He could feel the dampness of her cheeks through his shirt. He held her tight, giving her all the comfort he possibly could. Hoping she knew that here she would always be welcome and safe.

“Daddy.”

He stroked her hair and held her close.

“Did I really… Did my mom… Summer said it isn't true, but…”

Thack swallowed the thick and heavy lump in his throat. He wasn't afraid of showing Kate emotion when it came to this. He never wanted her to think it was easy to lose Michaela, but he also needed to be able to speak, to give her the words she needed.

“When you were growing in your mom's stomach, we found out that she was sick. Her being sick had nothing to do with you.”

Kate sniffled loudly. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. In fact, she used to say you were her angel, because if you hadn't been in there, we never would have known she was sick.”

“But she died anyway.”

He wiped his face on her pillow, then pulled her away so he could look into her eyes, red-rimmed and puffy. He didn't know how to tell a seven-year-old her mother had sacrificed all she could to make sure her daughter would survive. But he looked at her so she would always know.
God, please let her know
. She wasn't at fault. She'd been loved.

“Some people are miserable human beings, Kate. They feel bad, so they want to make everyone else feel bad too. Sometimes people will tell you that your mother dying had something to do with you, but they're wrong. There were some choices she had to make,
we
had to make, to keep you safe and growing, because we wanted you so much. But nothing about that was your fault. Never think that what happened was your fault.”
It was mine. I couldn't save her. I couldn't make things right. I couldn't work hard enough to give her what she needed to pull through.

He paused and dropped his gaze out of surprise. How had he fallen so far backward? After Michaela's funeral, he'd immediately invested in therapy. For him, for Dad, and once she'd been old enough, he'd been on the lookout for any signs Kate would need it as well.

They'd gone through grief counseling, and Thack had tried to come to grips with what had happened. He had thought…he'd thought the feelings of guilt and blame had been worked through. Thought he'd moved on from that. But there they were.

Dr. Seaver had asked him if he'd ever blame his daughter for the choices they'd made in putting off Michaela's treatment. He'd listened as Thack had ranted and raved about anyone ever thinking such a thing.

Then you can't blame yourself either.

But here he was, in one breath telling Kate she was nowhere near to blame, and in the next he was heaping it all on himself.

He pressed a kiss to Kate's forehead. “She got to meet you, and it was the best day of her life. She told me so.”

“I wish I could remember,” Kate said, her voice small and squeaky.

“I wish that too, Kate. I wish it so hard. But we have to find a way to…live and be happy. Because she loved you. We loved each other. And when you lose someone you love, you can't let that take away all the other love in your life. We'll always miss her, but we owe it to her to have the life she didn't get to have.”

He had no idea if he was making any sense, or if he was talking over her head. But she'd stopped crying. She was still snuggled into him, but she didn't seem so rigid.

“Are you going to make me go to school?”

“Not today. I'll go call you in sick right now. You will have to go back tomorrow.”

She tensed.

“But, maybe we can go in early and talk to Mrs. Kinny about whatever got you so upset.”

She didn't relax, but she nodded. “I think I'm going to go back to sleep.”

His cue to leave, but he was loath to let her go. Still, there were chores to do and phone calls to make.

“Summer is going to be here all day, but if you need me for anything, no matter how busy I am, I will come.”

Her smile was small, but it was a smile. He'd count that as some kind of victory. “If I want you to come…can Summer still stay all day?”

“Of course.” He wouldn't deny Kate anything now, but more, as wrong as it was, as much as he knew he shouldn't, he wanted Summer here too.

“And she can help decorate tonight since we didn't last night?”

“Yes.” He eased off the bed, back into his boots, and then pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you, Kate. You don't ever have to run away from me like that. You only have to be honest.”

“I didn't want to make you sad,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears again.

There weren't many moments of parenting that were like bolts of lightning. He'd had very few times when Kate had said something and he could immediately see all the ways he'd gone wrong. Life with a child was usually too muddled, too gray, too complex.

But this… He saw it all so clearly. He'd shouldered all his feelings and shut them away, kept them under lock and key, to the point where Kate was afraid to share her own, and that…that would never be okay.

“It would make me even sadder to not know what's wrong. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to hurt. As long as you're honest with me, we'll find a way to be happy.”

“Are you happy, Daddy?”

What a far more complex question than it should be. Two hours ago, he would have lied and told her of course he was, but this whole thing…

He'd made a hash of his life these past few years, so much so that he didn't even
have
a life, and he wasn't sure how to work through that yet. Wasn't sure how to balance the guilt and the fear that he was cursed, even knowing how stupid that was. He had no idea how to navigate it all, but he'd been ignoring that, pushing it away, and that wasn't the answer either.

“I'm happy that we talked, and I'm happy that you're mine, my wonderful girl.” He pressed another kiss to her temple. “I love you, Kate. Always. Forever.”

“I love you too, Daddy.” She made a big fake yawn, and he took it as his cue to leave, though walking out her bedroom door might be among the top ten hardest things he'd ever have to do.

When Thack reached the bottom of the stairs, Summer was sitting on the couch in the living room. She was crying, and her face was as red and blotchy as Kate's had been. Something in his chest shifted. How could she be so worked up over something that didn't even touch her?

She hopped off the couch and crossed the space between them, wasting no time in flinging her arms around his neck and holding on tight. “Tell me she's okay.”

He swallowed, both at how deeply she cared, and how good it felt to have someone come up and hug him after what he'd just been through.

He rested his hand on Summer's back. She was cold, wearing some spandex-y excuse for clothes. “She'll be all right.”

Her body slumped, and he held her upright. The funny thing was though, she seemed to be holding him upright too.

Summer pulled away, feeling silly she'd so completely lost it. Kate wasn't hers. Thack wasn't hers. She was a friend at best, an employee at worst, but the bottom line was—she cared. She cared so much, and it hurt to see them hurt.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, trying to pull herself together.

“You don't have to be sorry. I owe you… Thanks doesn't even begin to cover it.”

She worked at cleaning up her face, though she knew she had to be failing. She felt wrung out and empty. She couldn't even begin to imagine what
they
were feeling. “I didn't do anything.”

“Kate came to you. You listened. You've given her someone she can trust. Someone safe to run to when she's afraid of…” His throat moved. “She didn't want to make me sad. But, if you weren't there, where would she have gone? Would I have ever even heard about this?”

Summer blinked, feeling emotional all over again. “I'm just so sorry it happened.”

“Me too.” His face looked pained, but there was something else in his expression, in his manner. She wasn't sure how or why, but he didn't seem so tense, so on edge. He wasn't happy or relaxed by any means, but whatever had passed between him and Kate seemed to have eased something.

“I'm behind with the cattle checkup, so I'm going to go work. But, if she needs me, if she wants me, even for something quick or small or silly, she can come get me, or you can.”

Summer nodded because she didn't have a voice, and even if she had one, she didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do for him or Kate.

“Summer…”

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by laughter. Male and female laughter, coming from the back of the house. Both of their heads turned toward it, and she assumed Thack was just as surprised as she was to see Mr. Lane walking from his main floor bedroom…with a woman.

“Oops,” the woman said, trying to suppress a smile. “I think we've been caught, Merle.”

“You're supposed to be taking Kate to school. And you're not supposed to be here,” Mr. Lane said gruffly.

“Mrs.…Bart?”

“Hi, Thackery. I better scoot. I'll call you later, Merle.” She patted Mr. Lane on the face and then, face averted,
scooted
toward the door.

“What's going on here?” Mr. Lane demanded, staring at Summer intently. She supposed he noticed her puffy, red face and eyes, but she was still trying to process him leaving his bedroom with a woman. In the morning.

The front door clicked closed, and Summer glanced at Thack. He was wide-eyed, his mouth dropped open. On the positive side, she supposed he'd moved on from dwelling over his own terrible tragedy, at least for the moment.

“You…in your… Morning… But…Mrs.…Mrs. Bart?”

“Hell, Son, I'm only fifty-five. We can't all live like monks.” He glanced at Summer, and she knew her face was going thirty-five shades of red, even as Mr. Lane disappeared back into his bedroom.

Ticking moments of silence followed, and Summer wasn't sure that Thack moved. She wasn't even sure he breathed.

“Are you all right?” she finally asked.

“My father is sleeping with my kindergarten teacher.”

Oh.
“Well, I suppose that doesn't happen every day.”

“God. What if it happens every day? In my house. With me in it.” He shuddered and shook his head. “I can't… Nope. I need to get to work.” He glanced up the stairs toward Kate's room.

Poor guy was really running the gauntlet this morning. “Don't worry about a thing. I'll take good care of her.”

He nodded, eventually turning and leaving. Summer made breakfast and then had to have an uncomfortable conversation with Mr. Lane about why Kate was home.

“She wasn't feeling well.”

“Is there more to that?”

“Yes, but I think Thack should be the one to tell you.”

Mr. Lane nodded and went to work in his shed.

Then Summer spent the rest of the day trying to make Kate smile and eat. It was slow progress, but by the time Thack came in for dinner, Kate was almost her old self. A little more clingy to Thack, so quick to crawl up into his lap at dinner, still not quite one hundred percent seven-year-old exuberance, but she wasn't crying, and she wasn't silent. Most importantly, she wasn't broken.

Helping the Lanes put up the remainder of their Christmas decorations while Rudolph played on the TV—Kate happily squealing every time the Abominable Snowman came on—was like something out of a dream.

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't perfect. Summer could see that even more clearly after all the upheaval this morning, but that this morning could be followed by Christmas decorations and hot chocolate and happiness was a miracle.

“All right, Katie Pie, bedtime.”

“But, Daddy, what about Frosty and—”

“School bright and early tomorrow, kiddo.” He scooped her up in a way that made Kate squeal and giggle, and Summer could only sit on the couch and smile at them, at the love there. Even when things were hard, even when Thack didn't think he had any more room in his life, there was so much love between these two that it could only make Summer happy.

Thack caught her gaze. “Would you mind sticking around? I'd like to talk to you.”

She nodded, even though it sent a jitter of nerves down her spine. What was there to talk about? Kate escaping? More help with Christmas maybe? That kiss from two nights ago that she couldn't get out of her head?

Probably not that.

She made one last check that everything in the kitchen had been put to rights. Mr. Lane retired to his room to make a “private phone call” to someone she had a sneaking suspicion was Mrs. Bart.

So, Summer settled herself on the couch, enjoying the twinkle and color of the Christmas lights and the way they sparkled off the different ornaments. She leaned her head against the back of the couch, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” stuck in her head on repeat, and apparently promptly fell asleep. Because the next minute, Thack's hand was on her shoulder, gently shaking her.

She blinked her eyes open, realizing most of the lights had been turned off. Only the tree was lit, casting a magical glow over the room.

“Sorry,” he offered sheepishly. “Would have liked to have let you sleep, but I'm not sure this is the place for it. You'd get quite a crick in your neck sleeping like that.”

She pulled her head up, trying to think past the fuzzy sleep brain. The only solid thing she could focus on was how handsome he was in the glow of the Christmas lights. So tall and sturdy and infinitely amazing.

She let out a dreamy sigh before she remembered this was real life, not her imagination. “Oh, right, well you wanted me to stay.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“But if we wait until tomorrow, I'll never sleep.” She flashed him a grin and patted the spot next to her. “Sit. I'll rub your shoulders, and you can tell me what's up.”

“You'll rub my shoulders?”

She tried to pretend that was a totally normal offer, not a ridiculous mistake on the part of her still-dreaming brain. “Sure. You're always so tense. You could use someone to rub your shoulders. No funny business. I'm just going to give you a little massage. It's been a long, trying day—let someone do something for you.”

He looked at her skeptically, but she offered her hands, palms up. After a moment of hesitation he slid onto the cushion next to her, back toward her.

What she really wanted to do was lean her cheek there between his shoulder blades and tell him how strong and wonderful he was. But that would cross a line. They might have kissed, he might have even thanked her for the role she played with Kate this morning, but that didn't mean his
no room for romance
edict had changed.

But him allowing this gesture was a step toward
something
. So, breathing deeply, she rested her palms on his shoulders. Much like when she'd touched his face the other night, his posture immediately relaxed. Not fully, but enough that she could notice.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, trying to loosen some of the muscles he held so tight. He groaned, and the sound hit her where it absolutely shouldn't.

“Sweet pickles,” he muttered.

She couldn't stifle the laughter that bubbled out of her mouth. It was just so ridiculous when he said that.

But he laughed too. “You have no idea how badly I wish I could go back in time and stop myself from ever starting to use those words, never mind using them enough that they became part of my regular vocabulary.”

“I think it's adorable.”

“Adorable. I say
sweet pickles
, and beautiful women are calling me adorable. I'll have you know, once upon a time, I was considered smooth and cool.”

She giggled, couldn't help it. Smooth and cool. He was ridiculous, and adorable, and she wanted to slide into his lap and do not-adorable things.

She kept rubbing his shoulders instead, working out the kinks of those tight muscles, so gratified when he relaxed and all but slumped forward. It felt like she'd done something for him, which warmed her heart, and the massage allowed her fingers to explore all those firm, contracting muscles. Hot and sturdy under her hands, carrying such a great burden.

That jittery feeling that centered itself in her chest so often when he was around intensified—an awareness. An intense need to know what those shoulders might feel like without the shirt.

Smooth over steel, still warm, capable, and endlessly strong. What might it feel like to explore him completely, everywhere?

Summer's cheeks were on fire by this point, a coiling, needy want centering itself deep inside her. Something no number of platonic shoulder massages or chaste, friendly hugs would ever assuage.

“Thank you,” Thack murmured, shifting so he was no longer sitting sideways on the couch. Her hands had to slide off his back, and she sighed over not being able to touch him anymore.

You could hold his hand. You could touch his face. You
could
kiss him.

No. No, she'd promised not to do that. Of course, if
he
wanted to…

He let out a gusty sigh, eyes closing as he leaned his head and rested it on the couch back.

She almost opened her mouth to ask what he had wanted to talk to her about, but he seemed so peaceful. She stayed where she was instead, wondering how this moment could feel so perfect. Exciting and nerve-racking and still a little raw from this morning, but still…somehow that all together made it perfect.

His breathing evened out, and his body relaxed even further. Her fingers nearly twitched with the desire to explore.

“Thack?”

Nothing. Not a change in breathing or a flicker of response. Now she was the one wishing she could let him sleep. He deserved some rest, but that probably shouldn't be found on a sofa when he was so close to a bed.

She really needed to not think about his bed.

Still, instead of talking louder or poking him or doing anything that might actually wake him up, she rubbed her palm against the scruff of his chin, soaked in that rough scrape against her palm.

Still nothing.

She sat back, watching his even breathing, noticed the way his face looked at least five years younger in sleep, with the low, warm light from the Christmas tree softening all his hard edges. Unable to resist, she leaned over and brushed her lips across his cheek.

“Liar.”

She screeched and jumped, high enough that coming back down made an audible thump against the couch cushion. When she'd caught her strangled breath, her eyes met his green ones, and she couldn't even be mad because there was a tiny glimmer of humor in his eyes.

Had she
ever
seen that in him before? She'd seen some moments of ease and hope and happiness, but never
humor
.

“You promised not to kiss me.”

She tried to glower and probably failed. “I never said anything about
where
I promised not to kiss you.”

His mouth curved into a smile, and it was possibly one of the top five most wonderful things she'd ever seen. It hovered somewhere around the blazing sunset behind a mountain that she'd seen her first night in Blue Valley, and just behind the smile of her niece.
Especially
after this morning.

As if he'd read where her thoughts went, he sobered up. “I couldn't have managed this morning without you. I really couldn't have.” He reached out and cupped her face, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to breathe when he willingly, purposefully touched her.

“I didn't do anything special.”

“You did.” Only two words, but they were emphatic. His gaze never broke from hers, his hand didn't leave her cheek, and she never wanted to change this moment where she mattered. Where she'd done something that truly mattered.

* * *

It was hard to know what to do in this situation, when all Thack wanted to do was keep touching her, keep telling her how much she meant to him right now. He wanted to forget about this morning, about two nights ago, and bury himself in
Summer
. He wanted to kiss her, and not in that angry, desperate way he had the other night. He wanted to sink and explore, to lose himself in something that wasn't dark or hard.

Summer's smile had never been either of those things.

What held him back wasn't what he'd said the other night. If there was any positive to take out of this morning, it was that he realized he'd lost sight of things. He'd lost at least half the answers he thought he'd found in therapy those first few years after Michaela's death.

He'd forgotten, somehow, that his happiness mattered. His happiness affected Kate. And he couldn't get over the idea that his happiness might be tied up with Summer. He still wasn't sure it was the best idea, but he was…less opposed.