The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

marriage that lengthened and widened with time, until she was on one side of it and he was on the other, so that he could hardly reach her anymore.
    "This has been eating away at you? All these years?"
    She nodded.
    "Oh, Rachel."
    He knew how terrible that was, knew all about locking the pain inside. They had done so many things wrong, he saw now, both been hurt in so many ways. When she'd said that all along she'd wanted him, just him, some terrible knot that had been in his stomach almost since the first time he'd seen her had eased. He'd always wanted her. Hadn't he shown her that? Hadn't he loved her enough? So that she felt secure in that love? Believed in it?
    He didn't think he'd ever felt secure in hers, but... "All that time, all I had to do was ask, and you would have married me? Without the baby?"
    "Of course," she said.
    He took a minute to absorb that, to draw the knowledge inside, to let it spread throughout his entire body and warm him right down to his soul. It didn't solve everything that had gone wrong over the years, but she had wanted him, despite everything.
    "I would have asked, Rachel," he told her, "if I'd ever thought I had anything to offer you."
    She raised her head from that spot where she'd buried it against his shoulder and looked him right in the eye. "You would have?"
    "Yes."
    He both saw and heard the little catch in her breath, the flicker of need in her eyes, the way she just melted against him, boneless and tired and spent.
    "I didn't care about those other things." She curled up against his chest, clinging to him. "I just wanted you. If you'd asked, I would have said yes."
    * * *
    Rachel stayed there for a long time, just holding him, not wanting to let him go. The guiltiest secret she'd ever had was out now, and he'd forgiven her. She'd sat there in the sleigh and thought about how much she wanted to know about him, how much he'd kept from her, and realized that she was being a hypocrite for being so angry at him when she'd kept things from him, as well. And maybe it was a tiny inkling of maturity inside of her that instead of asking him about his childhood secrets, she'd bared a secret of her own.
    And now she had his forgiveness, a gift she'd never expected. His absolution for the worst of it—that irrational yet nagging sense of guilt that she'd made one split-second judgment, one mistake, kept one secret, but that wasn't anything that should cause anyone to lose a child.
    She was letting herself dream Christmas dreams where everything just worked out when she drifted off to sleep. It was much, much later, once it was pitch-black outside and the fire had burned down to nothing but embers that she came awake, startled by something.
    "Shh," Sam said. "It's late. I'm just taking you to bed."
    "What?"
    "Go back to sleep, Rachel."
    She wanted to sleep in his arms. She wanted him to make love to her, the way he once had, when he'd wanted her so desperately, before all the sadness had crept in.
    He carried her up the stairs and laid her gently beneath the cold sheets. He tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and when he would have left, she grabbed on to his hand and wouldn't let him go.
    "It's cold in here," she said. The bed was always so cold without him.
    He hesitated. She closed her eyes and wished so hard. Stay with me, Sam. Just stay. Still he turned to go.
    She set aside every bit of pride she had. What did it matter in the face of this? Of losing her husband.
    "Couldn't you just sleep beside me?" she asked. "Please?"
    "There are things we haven't talked about, things I haven't told you."
    "I know," she said, thinking, Not now. Don't tell me now when we're so close to fixing things.
    "I... I don't even know how to tell you."
    "Just sleep beside me, Sam. Sleep in our bed and hold me. Let that be enough for now."
    And so it was.
    He slipped out of his clothes and shoes in the dark, leaving on nothing but his briefs, and slid between the sheets, lying on his back, his arm stretched out above his head. Which Rachel took as an invitation. She settled herself against his chest, one of her legs entwined with his, her breathing a little easier once his arm came around her.
    She was starting to think there were miracles left in this world after all.

Chapter 10

    On the sixth day of Christmas, Rachel woke slowly, having slept better than she had in ages after drifting off in front of the fire in her husband's arms and sleeping that same way in this very bed.
    She rolled over onto his