17

Alix

Alix stumbled in the deep snow, but kept walking. She felt physically wounded, even though all the hurt was on the inside.

Five years? Christy had been bottling that up for five years?

Why hadn’t Christy said something before now? Alix was driven by fury, most of it directed at herself. She should have forced the conversation. The fact that it had only recently dawned on her was yet more evidence that she was terrible at relationships.

Christy had made her sound so selfish and narrow-minded, when Alix had been trying to protect her. Why couldn’t Christy see that? Why couldn’t she see how much Alix loved her? Why hadn’t it occurred to her how hard this had been for Alix?

She thought about the two of them as children, giggling as they dressed up and did each other’s hair, covered themselves in mud as they built a tree house in the garden. She thought about the box they’d buried, which they’d dubbed their friendship capsule, full of things they loved. She thought about their conversations about boys, and jobs, and life, and what they wanted.

The only thing they’d never talked about was the possibility that their friendship would change. Neither of them had entertained the idea. But the more she thought about it now, the more she understood how inevitable that had always been.

All this time she’d thought they had a great friendship, and in fact Christy had been bottling resentment. But worse than Christy’s resentment was the fact that she hadn’t once tried to see things from Alix’s point of view.

She pressed her hand to her chest and rubbed.

She felt as if Christy had stuck a knife through her ribs.

Fine, she told herself fiercely. Painful as it was, it proved she was better off by herself. She wasn’t good at relationships, and that was the end of it. It didn’t even matter. Who needed them, anyway? All they brought was pain and misery. You did your best, gave your all, and all you got in return for caring was the emotional equivalent of a slap in the face. Relationships were complicated and hard work, and frankly she didn’t need that.

Alix walked blindly through the forest, seeking the calm she’d found before in the same place and not finding it.

It wasn’t worth it. None of it was worth it.

It was a mistake for her to even bother trying.

Feeling utterly miserable, she stomped into the cabin, dragged off her boots and locked the door.

She didn’t want callers. She didn’t want conversation. Relationships, even friendship—right now, especially friendship—were exhausting. From now on she’d keep her relationships superficial.

Zac was standing in the window, talking on the phone. A glass of red wine rested on the table near his hand.

He turned as she walked into the room. Reading something in her face, he stopped in midsentence.

“I’ll call you back.” He slid the phone into his pocket.

He was dressed all in black. Black jeans that hugged his thighs. Black sweater that hugged his shoulders. His hair was damp from a recent shower.

Sex, she thought as she let her gaze travel from shoulder to thigh. The only relationships she was good at were short-term and physical, so that was what she was focusing on from now on. No complications.

He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“What?”

“You said ‘sex.’”

“I said that aloud?”

“Yes.” The corners of his mouth flickered. “Just so I’m clear, was it a request or an order?”

This was fast becoming one of the worst days she’d had in a long time.

On the other hand, why not? It was exactly what she needed. If her memory served her correctly, he’d proved himself to be particularly gifted in that department. She might have forgotten things she’d said that night, but she hadn’t forgotten anything they’d done. The sex had been spectacular. If it hadn’t been muddled up with emotions, it would have been the single best night of her life. And now here she was, her mind clear of emotion. She knew exactly what she wanted. What she needed. He’d made it clear he wanted the same. So why not go for it?

“Is that wine good?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked it up and drank. “It is good.”

“I thought so.” He watched her carefully. “Would you like a glass of your own?”

“Yours is fine.” She finished it. “We might need a top-up.”

He studied her for a moment and then fetched the bottle. “You seem upset. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She put the glass down, and he refilled it, his hand steady. “Could you put the bottle down?”

He paused, the bottle in midair. “I was going to—”

“Right now. I don’t want you to spill the wine when I kiss you.”

He put the bottle down, his gaze fixed on her face. “Alix—”

She grabbed the front of his sweater and tugged him toward her. Lifting herself onto her toes, she pressed her mouth to his, and he kissed her back without hesitation. The heat of it unsteadied her, and she held on to him for support. His hands cupped her head. Her fingers dug into the dense muscle of his shoulders. The rush of arousal drove everything else from her head. There was only the physical. The rapid beat of her heart. The touch of his hands, the silken stroke of his tongue.

She tugged his sweater upward, and he dragged his mouth from hers long enough to yank it over his head along with the shirt he was wearing underneath. Beyond the windows, snow fell through inky darkness, but neither of them noticed. Her eyes were fixed on sculpted muscle and tempting male flesh.

She stripped off her clothes, too, fumbling in her haste, hungry for him. He helped her, his fingers tangling with hers, each movement punctuated with kisses because neither of them could bear to stop. Who would want to stop something that felt so good? Through the low hum of her own need she heard his voice telling her how much he wanted her, how she was sexy, how she was the most exciting woman he’d ever known. And then finally, somehow, she was down to her underwear, and he swept her up and carried her to the bedroom as if she weighed nothing.

“Now.” She tugged him down with her onto the bed. “Right now.”

“Wait.” His voice was hoarse. “Just…wait. We should slow down.”

She felt something close to desperation. She didn’t want to slow down. She didn’t want to think.

“Why? You don’t want to do this?”

“I want to do this.” His breathing was unsteady. “I’m having a problem sleeping with someone who is upset.”

“I’ve had one glass of wine. My decision-making is unimpaired. I was the one who dragged you here. If you need any more evidence of consent—”

“It’s not about consent.” He stroked her hair away from her face, his fingers gentle. His eyes darkened. “I’ve seen you like this before. If you want to talk, I’m ready to listen.”

“I don’t want to talk. I want to have sex.” She ran her hands over his back, feeling the play of muscle under her fingers.

He hesitated and then lowered his mouth to hers. “Fine, but if you change your mind—”

“I won’t change my mind. And if you could hurry up—”

“It’s called foreplay. I’m trying to take it slowly.” He pressed kisses to her jaw, her neck, her throat. “You’re not making it easy.”

“The last five years have been foreplay. And I don’t want you to take it slowly.”

Thiswas what she wanted. This was the only type of intimacy she didn’t mess up.

Blindly, she reached for him, pushed thought aside and let herself feel. She felt the knowing brush of his fingers against her inner thigh. The scrape of stubble against soft skin. The skilled flick of his tongue. And she knew she hadn’t imagined the way it had felt five years before. He knew how to build the pleasure, and he did so until she was desperate and writhing with sensation, until all she could think about was him, until the only words she was capable of uttering was a string of unintelligible pleas. Now, now. Please. There was a brief pause, and then he shifted her under him in a smooth movement, and she felt him against her, hard and heavy. She arched and brought them together, her legs locked around him as her body matched the demands of his. He cupped her head in his hand, turned her face so that she was looking at him. He paid attention to every shift of her body, every sound she made, and with each movement the connection between them deepened. She stared into his eyes as they moved together, and she was shaken by the force of her feelings and the raw intimacy of what they were sharing. Excitement raced through her, driving her higher and higher until finally she tipped over the edge. She felt an uncontrollable surge of emotion. It flooded through her, overwhelmed her, and her cry of pleasure turned into a sob. And then another sob. She felt Zac roll onto his side and gather her close.

He held her tightly, locking her against him as she cried, murmuring gentle words into her hair. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I’ve got you.

She tried to stop. She wanted to stop. What was wrong with her? It was the most incredible sex of her life, and she was crying? It was embarrassing and awful, and she was mortified. What must he be thinking? She had no idea because he didn’t say anything. He simply held her patiently while she sobbed. She cried until she had nothing left, and then eventually she took a juddering breath. She was upset about Christy, of course, but she knew that the reason she’d cried was so much more complicated than that. She was crying for herself. For the way she was. For the way she felt about Zac.

How could she have thought that there would be no emotion involved? That this encounter could be just physical?

She’d thought it would make her feel better, but instead it had made her feel worse. If she couldn’t detach emotionally, then it meant she was doomed to never have sex again.

She kept her face buried against the warmth of his chest. She didn’t want to look at him or talk.

She could happily have stayed there forever.

But she had to say something, didn’t she?

“Sorry.” She muttered the word and felt his fingers stroke her hair gently. “You should probably leave now.”

“Why would I leave?”

“Because a howling, sobbing woman is so attractive.”

But he didn’t leave. He tugged her closer. “I happen to be comfortable where I am. The bed is warm. You’re naked. That’s two good reasons to stay.”

“I really am sorry.” She sniffed and eased away. “I’ve probably crushed your ego.”

“You haven’t.” He tugged the covers up and lay facing her. “I’m taking it as a compliment that you’ll lower your guard enough to cry in front of me.”

“Again.” She gave a choked laugh. “Believe it or not, I don’t do this with anyone but you.”

He wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb, all traces of laughter gone. “Are you going to tell me why you’re so upset?”

“It was great sex. I was crying for all those women who don’t know what they’re missing.”

He smiled. “Nice try. But I happen to know you were upset when you came back from your walk.”

She didn’t like the fact that he knew her so well. “Why would you think that?”

“Maybe because you drank my wine?”

“I was thirsty. And it was good wine.”

She knew she should pull away, but she liked the feel of his fingers stroking her arm.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then heard her phone buzz.

Christy! It would be Christy, trying to fix things. Telling her that everything was going to be okay. That their friendship mattered to her and that they’d find a way through this.

She shot out of bed, stumbling as she grabbed her discarded clothes. Phone. Where was it? She found it eventually and checked her messages with shaking hands.

“What?” Zac sat up in bed, watching her.

It wasn’t Christy.

The thud of disappointment was physical.

“Nothing.” Her throat felt clogged with emotion, and she started to type a message to Christy, but then she stopped. What would she even say? And what if Christy didn’t want to hear it? She deleted what she’d typed, switched her phone off and dropped it back on the floor. She wasn’t going to cry again. No way.

“Talk to me, Alix. Who was the message from?”

“Oh. My father.”

“And?” His gaze was fixed on her face. “Judging from your reaction, he didn’t say anything you wanted to hear.”

“It wasn’t a personal message.” She’d so badly wanted it to be Christy, and the sense of disappointment was huge. “It’s fine. He does it every year. He sends the same Festive greetings and best wishes for the New Year message to everyone in his contacts. It used to upset me, obviously, but it doesn’t now.” She could see by the look on his face that he didn’t believe her. “I don’t expect you to understand. You have a normal family. A loving family. Mine isn’t like that and never has been, so when I see a text from my father I have no expectations at all. You’re probably feeling sad for me because I don’t really have a family, but I do, you see.” Suddenly it seemed important to make him understand. “Christy is my family.” And a message from her would have meant so much more than a message from her father.

He was silent for a moment and then held out his hand. “Come back to bed.”

“I’m fine, really. I—”

“I’m not. Come back to bed.”

She hesitated and then did exactly that.

He grabbed her and hauled her close, warming her with his body. “Who were you hoping to hear from? You leaped out of bed as if the cabin was on fire.”

She leaned back against the pillows he’d piled behind them. “Christy.”

“Christy is the reason you’re upset?”

Should she tell him? Why not? She had to talk to someone, and Christy wasn’t an option.

“We had a…conversation.”

“Not a good one, I assume from the fact that you drank my wine.”

“It was more of a fight than a conversation. She’d obviously stored up a lot of feelings and…she said I ruined her wedding.” The guilt of it tore at her, and she turned her head to look at him, expecting to see judgment. Instead, she saw confusion.

“What?”

“I ruined her wedding. And I can never undo that, which makes me feel terrible…” It was a struggle not to cry again. “The whole thing makes me feel terrible. She’s been my closest friend for my whole life—well, it feels like my whole life—and it turns out she was thinking all these things, and bottling things up, and she doesn’t talk to me about the big stuff anymore. Because of the things I said that day, she’s wary around me, and that’s awful. How can we ever fix that? And the thing that really hurts me is that—” Stop talking, Alix! Stop talking.

“Is what? You’re shivering. You’re cold.” He pulled the covers up, tucking them around her.

“I feel terrible saying it…”

“Say it.”

Alix swallowed. “She hasn’t once thought about my feelings. Or that’s how it seems. She used to be so good at knowing how I was feeling. I didn’t even have to tell her. But not anymore. It’s not that she gets it wrong. She doesn’t even seem to think about it. It hurts me that she didn’t once think about how it must have been for me when she got married. She didn’t think how I might have felt.” She covered her face with her hands and groaned. “I sound pitiful, don’t I?”

“No.” He tugged her hands down and pulled her closer. “I totally understand why you’re upset.”

“You do?”

“Of course. Can I say a couple of things now?”

She sniffed and leaned against his shoulder. He was such a good listener. As always, she felt better having talked to him. “Go ahead.”

“First of all, you did not ruin Christy’s wedding.”

“But she said—”

“It sounds as if she said a lot of things in the heat of the moment.”

“It was freezing.”

He smiled. “Maybe. But the fact remains that I know for a fact that you didn’t ruin the wedding, so don’t let that comment eat you up.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was there! I saw her laughing and dancing, and kissing Seb and—” he shrugged “—I don’t know—she was a walking smile that day. If that’s a ruined wedding, then don’t invite me to a happy one, because I wouldn’t be able to take it.”

She was desperate to believe him. “But if that’s true, why would she say—”

“Because she was upset. And people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset.” He pulled her closer. “I know you think Christy is perfect, but she isn’t. She’s human like the rest of us. Flawed. She hasn’t given any thought to how her marriage might have affected you. She’s been thoughtless. Selfish. And, honestly, hard on you. I’m not surprised you’re hurt.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that. She’d started to convince herself that it was all her. That she had unrealistic expectations about friendship. “So you don’t think I’m overreacting?”

“Far from it. If anything, I’m surprised you’re not more upset with her.”

She was upset. Very upset. “But even if you’re right, the end result is more confirmation that I’m rubbish at relationships.”

“Not true. And I have evidence to prove it.”

“What evidence?”

“By my reckoning, this is about our fifth date. And I’d say we’re doing great.”

Her heart thumped against her chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know I’m not the dating type.”

“You don’t know what you’re capable of until you’ve tried it.”

She felt a flash of panic. This was why she didn’t get involved past a certain point. “Zac, you’re not hearing me. I can’t sustain a relationship. Even if I wanted to, I don’t know how. I mess things up.” And she couldn’t stand the pain of it; she just couldn’t. She’d grown up with it with her parents, but that had been nothing compared to how she felt at the prospect of losing her friendship with Christy. The last thing she wanted was to embark on another relationship.

He pulled her closer. “Maybe you need more practice.”

“Maybe I’m not prepared to incur the bruises that come with that.”

“I have an idea about how I could cushion your fall.” With a wicked smile, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. “If a wolf comes into the cabin now, we’ll switch places. I promise.”

She stared down at him, exasperated. Nervous. “You’re dismissing the way I feel, but trust me, all the evidence supports the fact I am utterly crap at relationships. And you should be more risk-averse.”

“There is an element of risk involved in everything worth having.” He drew her head down to his. “Is this really something you want to walk away from?” He kissed her, and excitement licked its way along her veins, but as well as the excitement there was something else. Something far more dangerous.

Feelings. She felt something for him.

Panicked, remembering what had happened with Christy, she dragged her mouth from his. “Yes. This is totally something I’d walk away from. I’d be kicking you out now if there was somewhere you could go.”

He sighed and sat up. “Alix, you’re not bad at relationships. Don’t use that as a reason not to get involved.”

She rolled away from him onto her back. “There hasn’t been a single relationship in my life I haven’t messed up, Zac.”

“I hope you’re not talking about your parents.”

“Not only my parents, but let’s start with them. At some point you’ve got to face facts. If I was adorable, they would have wanted to spend time with me. If I’d made them proud, they would have wanted to spend time with me, not simply include me in a group message.”

“Not true. You’ve said yourself, they shouldn’t have had children. They didn’t want to be parents, and from the way you’ve described it, they made no effort to learn. That’s on them, sweetheart, not you.”

The term of endearment shook her. It implied caring. Closeness. Slowly, surely, he was reeling her in.

“Maybe they’re not the best example of my deficiencies in emotional bonding. But there are others.”

“Tell me about the others.”

“Oh for—” She glanced at him, exasperated. “You want a list?”

“I don’t know, do I? How long would this list be? You’ve left a trail of broken hearts wherever you go?”

“I doubt it. I don’t usually get close enough to break anything.”

“Ah, yes. Maximum of one date. Apart from emergency sweater-retrieval. I need to understand what evidence you’re basing your assumptions on.” He ran his fingers over her shoulder and then lowered his head and kissed her neck and then her cheek.

She closed her eyes. “It’s quicker to tell you the relationships in my life that have worked out. And it turns out there aren’t any. I thought there was one, but I was wrong about that.”

He went still. “You’re talking about Christy.”

“Yes. Love doesn’t have to be romance, Zac. Christy’s been the closest thing to family for me since I was eight years old. I would have died for her. Killed for her. But in the end, all I killed was our friendship.” She lay in his arms, raw and emotionally wrecked, every one of her feelings exposed to his scrutiny and judgment. “And it happened so slowly that I didn’t even notice. On the surface we’re still friends, of course, but now she doesn’t tell me anything. She doesn’t…trust me. And also she doesn’t see things from my point of view. And she used to. We used to know everything about each other—” she felt a rush of sadness “—but not anymore.”

“You’re talking about the fact she didn’t tell you about Seb losing his job? She was probably protecting his ego.”

“It isn’t just that.”

He pulled her against him and held her tightly, murmuring indistinct words of comfort. “You haven’t killed anything, Alix.”

You ruined my wedding.

The words rang in her head. “I have. And this is why I don’t have relationships. It’s exhausting.”

She slid out of bed, ignoring the hand he reached out to her. How could she have relaxed her guard enough to let him in emotionally? She never did that. Never. But this time she had, and now she was going to pay the price. Again. She grabbed her robe, thrust her arms into it and tied it, covering herself, but still she felt exposed. Vulnerable.

“Not all relationships have to be complicated. Some are just plain fun.” He sat up in bed, and she looked away because right at that moment she didn’t want to look at his shoulders, or his bare chest, or any other part of him. The intimacy of it felt out of place with the conversation they were having.

And she definitely didn’t want to think or talk about feelings. She’d had enough of it to last her a lifetime.

She walked to the window. “Can we stop talking about it?” She heard the sound of sheets rustling and then felt his hands on her shoulders.

“You’re so hard on yourself. No one is perfect, Alix. Relationships aren’t easy—not for anyone. It’s not just you. And when you hit a rocky patch, it doesn’t mean you’re bad at them. People are complex. It certainly doesn’t mean you should give up. Some relationships are worth fighting for—like the one you have with Christy. Are you simply going to give up on it?”

“I—” Was she? “I don’t know what I’m going to do. All I know is that I never want to feel this bad again.”

“All relationships hit difficult patches. How could they not? And sometimes it isn’t possible to work through it or find a compromise—sometimes you might not want to find a way through it—but other times it’s worth doing whatever it takes to try to fix it. You think the reason your parents don’t spend time with you is because it’s something you’ve done, whereas it’s all about them. You and Christy have hit a bumpy patch because you were both navigating a huge change, and for some reason you weren’t doing it together. But it’s going to work out.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “How about you and Seb? Has your friendship changed since he got married?”

“It’s different, I think. Seb says, ‘Want to meet up for a couple of beers?’ and I say, ‘Yes, great idea.’ He says, ‘I’m getting married. Will you be my best man?’ and I say, ‘Sure, why not.’ That’s as complicated as it gets. We don’t try and unpick it. But our friendship is nothing like yours and Christy’s.” He turned her to face him. “There’s something else you haven’t considered.”

“What’s that?”

“Christy isn’t the only one whose life is changing. Yours is, too. And she’s going to have to get used to that.” The look in his eyes made her heart beat faster.

It was like being on a roller coaster with no safety strap.

“Mine isn’t changing.”

“Yes, it is.” He drew her against him, and she knew that he was right. It was changing. For the first time in her life, her feelings were involved. And that made it different. Dangerous.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Good. But I promise to make sure I put myself between you and the wolf.”

“Good?” She lifted her head to look at him. “You want to scare me?”

“In a way, yes. You’re only scared of the things that are important. The things that really matter.”

She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head. “I can’t do it. I honestly can’t.” She felt his hand stroke her hair.

“We’ll talk about that later. But first you should have another conversation with Christy. You don’t have to wait for her to message you. You can reach out. Have a conversation now she’s calmer. Challenge her on some of those things she said. You’ve both made mistakes—” he shrugged “—but friendship is like any other relationship. It isn’t about always being perfect or getting it right the first time. It’s about how you work things through when they go wrong. The only thing you have to do to put this relationship right is not walk away from it. That’s it. That’s all.”

“All?”

“Don’t give up. I need you to promise me you won’t give up.” He kissed her gently, and she frowned.

“Why does it matter to you so much?”

“Promise me you’ll have a conversation with her. No heat involved.”

“Fine. I promise.” She had no choice about that. Like it or not, she was spending Christmas here with Christy, Seb and Holly. She had to at least try and reach some sort of truce. “But it doesn’t change my feelings on relationships generally.”

“In that case we’ll just have sex. A lot of sex.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Repeated sex is a relationship.”

“So we’ll have a thousand first dates.”

A thousand first dates.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“Sometimes, but never when it’s something I really want.” He slid his hand around the back of her head, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “You might want to think about that.”

She leaned her head against his chest, watching as the snow fell.

Did she want to think about it? What did she really want? She had no idea.

She’d thought sex with him would be simple. She’d thought it would distract her from her problems.

She’d never been more wrong in her life.