Home for Christmas (Willow Park #5) Read online

  “How long have you been awake?”

  “Just a few minutes. I was cold.” She said that last to explain why she was all nestled up against him.

  “You’re always cold.” He was almost—almost—smiling.

  “That’s because you keep the temperature so low any normal person would be freezing.” They’d had variations on this conversation many times before, and the familiarity was immensely comforting.

  He chuckled, very softly.

  The joy kept rising in her heart at his soft mood, but she didn’t want to call attention to it or make him self-conscious, so she said with playful force, “So it’s either raise the temperature in the room or put up with me huddling against you. Those are your choices.”

  “Those are my choices, huh?”

  “Yes.” She nodded vigorously to emphasize her answer.

  He laughed and tightened his arm around her. “All right. I’ll live with the huddling.”

  Her arms were bent up and trapped between their chests, but she managed to squeeze one hand out so she could touch his messy beard, smoothing out a tangle and a few kinks. His eyes still looked too large for his face, and his cheekbones were too prominent.

  She desperately wanted to know what happened to him while he was captured, but she didn’t want to pressure him to open up. Everyone had told her not to push him too hard. Instead, she asked gently, “Are you going to keep this?” She stroked the coarse hair on his face.

  “I don’t know. Do you not like it?”

  She’d rather see his whole face, see him the way he used to be, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell him she was disappointed in anything about him. “It’s fine. It’s just different.”

  “I know.” There was a hint of poignancy in his tone, his eyes.

  Afraid he was going to pull away, when she’d just barely gotten him back, she gave him a teasing smile. “But it must help to hold in your body heat, so I’m not going to complain.”

  He chuckled again and raised one of his hands to cup her cheek, the way she was cupping his. His expression changed again. “You never do complain.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t even true.

  Before she could think of a response, he added, his voice slightly thick, “You’re so beautiful.”

  He was gazing at her now, as if he’d never seen her before.

  She swallowed hard. “I look the same as always.”

  “Do you?” He used his thumb to caress her skin, and then slid it over to rub gently against her lips. “You are so incredibly beautiful.”

  Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at his words, at the almost awed look in his eyes, and in response to his touch. He still didn’t feel quite like the Mark she remembered, but she loved him anyway, wanted him anyway.

  She couldn’t stand even the slight distance between them. She stretched up toward his lips, moving her hand from his beard to his hair.

  He groaned low in his throat as her mouth reached his, and his arm tightened dramatically around her. It was like something had snapped inside him. He almost immediately took control of the kiss, turning her over onto her back and moving on top of her.

  Her heart and body thrilled at his response, at how much he seemed to need her. His tongue was in her mouth now, stroking and sliding against hers. His muscles had tightened up, and he kept making soft, throaty sounds.

  She clung to him desperately, finally feeling like he was hers again, that she was needed, that she was loved. “Mark,” she gasped, his mouth breaking briefly from hers. “Mark.”

  He grunted against her mouth as he claimed her lips again. She could feel him growing hard, pressed up against her belly, and she rubbed herself against him instinctively.

  His hands were starting to move now, stroking her body eagerly, almost clumsily. His urgency just intensified her own. She whimpered as she dug her fingernails into his back, through his shirt.

  He was already pushing down her pajama pants and panties, and she was trying to help him by toeing her pants the rest of the way down her legs. Arousal ached between her thighs, and her heart was aching even more deeply, emotion lodged hard in her throat.

  She was so relieved that he still wanted her, that he still wanted to be close to her. She had been starting to think that everything had changed between them.

  She reached down to take his erection in both of her hands, and she caressed him lightly, flushing with even more pleasure when he moaned softly in response. “Sophie, baby,” he choked, moving her hands and raising them up above her head.

  She arched up shamelessly against his hold on her, her whole body pulsing now with need. “Please, Mark,” she gasped. “I need you so much.”

  His face twisted strangely as he stared down at her. Then he released one of her hands so he could move his shaft into position between her thighs.

  She cried out as he entered her, still clinging to the one hand he held. She was tight from going so long without sex, and both of them were groaning as he eased himself in. She bent up her legs around his hips and tried to breathe deeply.

  Before she could fully adjust, he was kissing her again and starting to thrust. He’d always been eager and passionate, but he seemed less in control than he used to be. Maybe just because it had been so long since they’d been together. He was moving against her urgently, his body tight and hot and somehow primal.

  She clawed at his back, over the shirt he still wore, and tried to move with him. She was breathless and emotional and almost dizzy from so many feelings all at once.

  He was going to come before she did. She could feel it in his body, and she hadn’t had nearly enough stimulation yet to reach orgasm. She didn’t care. Her heart needed this far more than her body did. She squeezed him with her arms, her thighs, her inner muscles. She never wanted to let him go.

  “I love you, Mark,” she panted, pulling her lips away enough to speak. “I love you so much.”

  He made a weird little sound and kissed her hard again.

  She was whimpering into his mouth when she felt him fall out of rhythm, making a loud, uncontrolled sound and shaking helplessly as he came.

  She stroked his back as his body relaxed over hers. He was hotter than ever, panting against her neck. He didn’t speak for a long time, but she felt better than she had in several days, hopeful that this had been a step in the right direction.

  “Are you okay?” he asked at last, raising his head.

  She blinked. “Of course. What do you mean?”

  “Was I…was I too rough?” His voice was thick, slightly cracked.

  “No. No. Of course, you weren’t. It was great.” She squeezed him in a hug. “I loved it. I love you. I missed you so much.”

  He stared down at her for a long time, his eyes conflicted in a way she didn’t understand. Then he leaned down to press a very soft kiss against her lips. His beard was slightly scratchy against her skin. “I missed you too,” he murmured.

  She wished he’d said that he loved her too, but she wasn’t going to be silly or selfish. She was going to give him anything he needed and not expect too much from him too quickly.

  He’d told her he was going to try to be his old self again, and she would trust him at his word and be as patient as he needed.

  She wasn’t the one who had been through hell. She had nothing to complain about.

  Mark rolled off her with a groan, but he pulled her against his side, so she nestled up against him, relieved that he hadn’t pulled away as soon as the sex was over. He’d never done that in the past, but things were different now, and she wasn’t quite sure what he might do.

  They lay in silence for a few minutes, until she started to wonder what he was thinking. His expression, his eyes, were very far away, the way they’d often been since he got back.

  “Do you…” she began, clearing her throat when she started to question whether she should say anything. But, since she started, she might as well go on. “Do you want to talk about anything?”<
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  He tilted his head to look down at her. “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything. We haven’t talked much. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about anything. I don’t want to push you or anything, but sometimes it…it helps.”

  She felt stupid, all of a sudden. Stupid for saying something so obvious and simplistic.

  When he didn’t answer, she babbled on. “You don’t have to. I’m not pushing or anything.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured. “For not pushing.”

  Well, okay. That seemed clear enough. He didn’t want to talk.

  “I guess you’re getting enough pushing from other people.”

  He sighed. “Yeah. You won’t believe the number of doctors they want me to see.”

  “I guess they’re worried about you.”

  “I guess. But I was just held in a prison. I wasn’t…traumatized the way a lot of other people have been. It’s not like I’m going to need in-depth PTSD treatment or something. It wasn’t any fun. But it wasn’t…traumatic.”

  Sophie couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, so immensely relieved by what he’d admitted so gruffly and indirectly. She’d had so many nightmares about him being tortured and assaulted. At least he hadn’t had to go through that. “But it was still hard. They’re just trying to help you adjust,” she said gently.

  “I know.”

  “Do you not want to…do you not want to go through the transition stuff they’re trying to help you with?” She wasn’t sure whether she should even ask that, but there were some things she needed to know—whether or not he wanted to talk about them.

  “Not really. I just want to move on. Be myself again.”

  She looked up to meet his eyes. “But that’s not going to be really easy, is it?”

  “No.” He sighed. “It’s not.”

  “So maybe it doesn’t hurt to go through some support and counseling, like they want. Maybe it will help you transition.”

  “Maybe. They’ve got stuff lined up for you too, don’t they?”

  “Yeah. Not as much, but some counseling and such.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but he didn’t seem inclined to sustain the topic.

  Mark had always been very communicative. He’d always loved to talk, to ask questions and share his opinions. This kind of halting reserve wasn’t like him at all. But she supposed it was natural, normal, after what he’d been through.

  Once he was through with the transition, maybe he’d be more like himself again.

  She leaned over to press a kiss against his shoulder, over his shirt.

  He exhaled deeply again. “I just want to be normal again.”

  “We’ll get there,” she said, understanding now that he was feeling the same way she was. “Let’s just give it some time.”

  ***

  That evening, as they were walking through the lobby of the hotel, on their way back up to their room, a man stepped out in front of them, coming from the column he’d been standing by.

  Sophie stopped in surprise at the unexpected presence, but then she recognized the man.

  It was John. Mark’s brother.

  Mark had stopped in surprise too, jerking more dramatically than Sophie had, as if being startled had affected him more. But, as soon as he recognized his brother, he made a sound in his throat and stepped forward to give his brother a hug.

  Sophie had the strangest combination of reactions. She was glad to see John. She’d always liked him, and the brothers had always been close. She was relieved that someone else was here who loved Mark, who knew him, who could be some sort of support.

  But she was also jealous. Intensely jealous. That Mark had so willingly hugged his brother—without hesitation—when it had taken him so long to touch Sophie in any way.

  She wished he would hug her like that, out in public, as if embracing her was something he wanted to do.

  She pushed the thoughts away, feeling guilty and weak for even having them.

  John looked a lot like Mark. He was about the same height, although he had blue eyes instead of dark brown, and he always had a few days’ worth of beard, while Mark had been clean-shaven before now. This evening, John was wearing beat-up jeans and a crew-neck shirt that had seen better days. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

  It was entirely possible that was true.

  “I came as soon as I could,” John said, releasing his brother and stepping over to hug Sophie as well. “We were in Egypt.”

  John led a crisis response team for a Christian international relief organization. He travelled all over the world on projects, and every time she heard from him, he was in a different time zone.

  “You didn’t have to come,” Mark said.

  John made a face. “That’s just stupid.” He looked at his brother for a moment, and then his face twisted and he pulled Mark into another hug. “Shit, I can’t believe you’re back. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine,” Mark said, straightening up and putting on that composed face he’d been showing Sophie all this time. “I’m doing just fine.”

  “Well, I don’t believe that for a minute, but I’ll take you any way I can get you.” He looked over at Sophie. “How are you, sweetheart?” He’d always called Sophie that. At first, it was just to annoy his brother, but then it got to be a habit. Sophie didn’t mind. She knew it didn’t mean anything. John just had his own ways.

  “I’m doing great.” She slipped her hand around Mark’s arm. “Did you want to eat dinner with us? We haven’t had anything yet.”

  “Yeah. That would be great. I’m starving. I just need to call Betsy and check on something from our last job.”

  Betsy was part of his team. Sophie wasn’t exactly sure what Betsy’s job description was, but evidently she was John’s right-hand, since he was always needing to call her or get her to do something for him.

  Sophie and Mark waited in the lobby while John stepped away to make his call.

  “He’s called me every week,” Sophie said softly. “No matter where he was in the world, he always took the time to call and check on me while you were…while you weren’t here.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. It meant a lot…to me. That he always thought about me.”

  Mark had a strange, tense look on his face. “I’m glad he did. I was…I was worried about you. I thought you might need help.”

  She sucked in a quick breath, feeling a strange mix of comfort and defensiveness. “I didn’t need help, but I appreciated the calls. I did okay. I know I was always kind of…kind of clingy before, but I really did okay on my own. I never thought I’d be able to do it.”

  He was watching her closely, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She wanted him to be proud of her, but she couldn’t see that particular emotion on his face.

  “I’m really glad you’re home, though,” she added.

  “Yeah,” Mark replied, the one word almost a breath.

  ***

  John stayed for almost a week, but then he had to get back on the job. Mark seemed better when he was around his brother—more relaxed, more open—so Sophie was sorry to see him go.

  She was also kind of disappointed that Mark didn’t act the same way around her.

  The evening after John left, Mark got annoyed with her over dinner, when she was trying to get him to eat something. He’d hardly eaten anything since he’d returned, and she knew that wasn’t healthy. So she pushed gently, hoping he’d eat a bit more.

  Instead, he snapped at her, telling her to leave him alone.

  She swallowed over the way his words had hurt her.

  She had to be patient. She had to be strong. She wasn’t going to cry because he was having a rough time now that he was back.

  The last thing he needed was for her to give him a guilt trip over his hurting her feelings.

  The past week had been very ha
rd. She’d been to endless meetings and counseling sessions—some of them alone and some with Mark—and they’d been harder than she’d expected. She came away from them feeling selfish and weak—like she wasn’t the kind of wife she really should have been, now and in the past two years. Mark remained tense and guarded, so she wondered if any of the transition stuff was helping at all.

  But it had just been a little more than a week. She couldn’t expect things to change so quickly.

  She was reminding herself of all of this as he was taking a shower before bed. He was in there for a long time again, as he had been every night this week. This time she wasn’t going to knock on the door to check on him.

  He just wanted to take a long shower. Nothing was wrong with that.

  She wasn’t looking forward to more sessions the following day. She missed the bookstore. She missed her friends. She missed Willow Park.

  Then she felt guilty again, because she had her husband back and that was the most important thing.

  Mark had left his shirt on the chair near the window, so she picked it up to move it to the other chair, since she wanted to sit down and look out at the skyline. She stroked the shirt gently. It was one she’d bought for him when they’d been dating. He’d been so sweet and fun-loving and teasing back then.

  Finally releasing the shirt, she sat down to send a text to Abigail, who’d texted earlier to see how everything was going. Sophie made sure to sound hopeful and encouraged, even though she wasn’t feeling that way this evening.

  She sat staring at her phone for a long time after she sent the message, praying silently and trying to figure out how she should act, what Mark most needed from her.

  When she heard the door of the bathroom open, she was startled and jumped to her feet automatically.

  Mark came out wearing his pajama pants, his hair and beard both damp. “What are you doing?” he asked, wrinkling his forehead.

  “Nothing. I was just sending a friend a message.” She smiled. Since she’d gotten up for no particular reason, she went into the bathroom to pee.

  As she was coming out, she heard Mark muttering. Then he demanded, “What the hell did you do with my shirt?”