Page 47 of Christmas Home

I nodded. “Okay,” I said into his firm chest.

“Now, about that kissing stuff, would you feel okay if I did that now?” he asked, and I eagerly nodded because I wanted to kiss him so bad, I could pop with anticipation.

Ruther put just enough space between us to cup my face and tilt it up toward his, then he gently pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was so tender and felt so meaningful, I might’ve shed a tear had it not sent me into pure bliss. “I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you,” I admitted after we pulled apart.

Ruther pulled me back into an embrace and rested his chin on top of my head. “It’s the same for me, but since we’re coming clean about our pasts, I’ve kept some ugliness hidden from you too.”

He sat back down and gestured for me to join him. “I have childhood trauma that causes panic attacks like the one you saw last summer.”

Ruther looked out the big windows overlooking the panoramic view and sighed. “I almost burned to death in a fire. It happened years ago but it still haunts me.”

He shuddered, and I quickly reached for his hand. He squeezed mine in acknowledgement of my support, but his gaze remained fixed on a point out the window as he continued.

“My parents weren’t home, and the fire started when I was asleep. I was alone in the house…the big house on the hill that the town librarian owns now. I woke to flames, and when the ceiling fell in, it trapped me in bed. Had it not been for the firefighters getting there…” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s still hard to talk about, and if I talk too much, I’m going to have an attack. But you should know, I’ve got extensive burn scars from my chest to my feet. Somehow, by some miracle, it didn’t burn my face or hands. Probably because the covers shielded me. I’m an ugly monster under my clothes.”

I turned to him, aghast at the suggestion. “That’s bullshit, Ruther. You survived, and I don’t know what the scars look like, but you are not a monster—you’re a survivor.” I reached over and slid my hand along his jaw, and turned his face to look at me. “Listen to me, I’ve been doing therapy since you left, and one thing I learned is that you have to celebrate the part of you that survived the ugly stuff. No more talk about you being a monster.”

“You haven’t seen me.”

“Okay, show me. If…if you’re comfortable, show me.”

Ruther froze. “I…Clyde, I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Then show me when you are. I’ve only just begun to get to know you, Ruther, but I like what I’ve seen. Your heart is beautiful, and you’re special. I can tell you now, I will never seeyou as a monster. Trust me. I’ve seen monsters, and if Sheriff Pat is right, I barely escaped the last one with my life. Having scars don’t make you a monster. Hurtin’ people for your own twisted gratification? That’s what makes a monster.”

Ruther ruminated on that a moment, then pulled me into a hug even though we remained seated. He held onto me tightly. I’m not sure if it was for my benefit or because of what he’d disclosed to me. Either way, his arms felt so good around me. I snuggled in and let his presence feed my soul.

thirty-nine

Ruther

I’m not sure howI thought that would go. I had no intention of telling Clyde about my burns or the trauma. Now that I look back, it’s a miracle I didn’t go into a full-on panic. Except maybe he’d been so candid about his past, about the abuse he’d endured as a child and from his lovers, it seemed appropriate to tell him about my own issues.

I’d been convinced that I no longer thought of myself as a monster. I’d told the therapists I’d overcome that, but when faced with the incredibly handsome man in front of me, the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

At first, I thought Clyde was throwing false platitudes at me, then he’d asked to see the scars, which I was so not ready for. I almost stood up to go, but I’m glad I didn’t.

Listening to him share his story, it was clear he really had known some monsters in his life. When he told me that treating other people badly is what made monsters, not simply having scars, it struck a nerve but in a good way.

We cuddled in the little chapel until the light faded, then walked back to the mill and my car. We drove back to town hand in hand, but stayed mostly quiet. I guessed it was because we had a lot on our minds. I pulled up in front of the café after Clyde told me he’d taken an apartment above it.

We both leaned in and I kissed him hard, then rested my forehead against his. “You’re an amazing man, Clyde, and you’ve done more for me just by being yourself.”

He didn’t say anything, and I could feel he was getting emotional, so I stayed close a few moments longer, then whispered, “See you tomorrow at nine? Is that still your break time?”

He chuckled. “Good memory. Yep, and I’d love nothing more than to spend it with you.”

I leaned back and grinned at him. “Do I still need a chaperone?”

Clyde snorted. “No need to worry about that. If we get too randy, Mrs. Cole will douse us with mop water.”

“Eew,” I said, and we both laughed.

He leaned in again, took my mouth with his, and then pulled back and winked. “See you tomorrow morning,” he said and climbed out of the car.

I watched him disappear around the back of the building, then I drove the short distance to the condo. Clyde was so much, and I didn’t think I could ever get enough. God help me, he was an incredible man.

“Like a glove,” I said to Corey after he asked how I was fitting into Crawford City. He’d spent the last few days in Nashvillefinding a place to live. Our contractors, Randy and Cliff, were helping him find somewhere he would have easy access to their offices.

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