Page 16 of HoHoHo for You

“But if I’m a basket case—”

“You aren’t insane. You’re afraid. I told you… we’ll make our own traditions. We’ll find a way through this. Iknowwe will.”

Tears threatened, but she blinked them back, clinging to me. “The thing is,” she whispered, “I thought it would get better when he was dead. I thought I’d feel thisless.But it’s not happening, Sam. I’m getting worse. I hate saying that, but it’s true. It’s gettingworse.”

Oh God, help me.

I stroked her hair back from her face and wiped the single tear that escaped with my thumb. “We’ll figure it out, babe. It’s been a helluva year.”

“It was a helluva year for you, too, and you’re doing great!”

I huffed and shook my head. “We’re in this together. We’ll figure it out. Don’t get in your own head—keep talking to me. I can’t help if I don’t know.”

“But what if you can’t help anyw—”

“Bridget, God made you for me, and He made me for you, too. I can help. I know I can. So relax. Just breathe. Tomorrow’s another day. And I promise not to send you on a run in Christmas season ever again—okay?”

Her lips tipped up into a smile, though her eyes welled again. “Okay.”

I leaned down and kissed her, and I prayed. I prayedhard.

Because I meant what I said… but I was scared shitless because the ball was already rolling on my plan and what if I’d judged it wrong? What if I was only going to hurt her while I was trying to help? Then where would we be?

Help me, God. Fucking help. Please.

6. Get Out

~ BRIDGET ~

I woke up the next morning feeling like the blankets were weighted. I was warm and comfortable, but dark inside.

The memories poured in…

Laughing here in the house, almost giddy because Sam was being so cute and it had snapped me out of my funk. I rushed getting those clothes on and barreled through the house, determined to get a head start on him and make him work for it this time.

I sprinted to the back of the house because I planned to jump the fence into the Daniels’ family yard—but those lights were dancing. Theybathedthe street in light and my brain misfired.

In a blink I was no longer an almost-thirty-year-old woman in my own driveway with a hot ex-felon husband and great sex on the horizon.

Suddenly, I was seven years old, nose plastered to the cold, passenger window of the car, watching as we drove down a suburban street where everyone decorated. The lights were so many and so bright, flickering and twinkling, dancing in different colors, and my heart rose. It was beautiful. Christmas was still coming. Even though Mom was dead, and I hadn’t been to my house in over a week, and Dad kept telling me he’d shoot me if I didn’t shut up… Christmas was still going to happen.

All those houses looked so pretty. The Christmas trees in the windows filled with the promise of presents and smiles and laughter and…

And the car slowed down.

I sat bolt upright and turned to look at my dad, who leaned over the steering wheel, his eyes glittering and black as he tried to read the numbers on the houses through the glare of all the lights.

“There it is.” His upper lip pulled back from his teeth as he eased the car off the road to park along the curb.

He pulled the gun from the back of his belt, checked the chamber, then slammed it back into place and turned to look at me.

I almost wet myself.

“You don’t move. You don’t move a fucking inch or I’ll bury one of these inyourskull, you understand?”

I nodded and asked God to make it stop. The chaplain at my school always said you didn’t have to speak out loud for God to hear you. But I wasn’t so sure, because I’d asked him to save me a lot and he didn’t.

My father walked casually into the yard of the house with the Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer standing with Santa next to Santa’s sleigh.

---