Warmth in Ice
Page 23
I couldn’t help but think about last Christmas. That had been one of the bleakest times of my life. I was in lockdown at Grayson’s. I had only been away from Maggie for a few weeks after trying to kill myself. I was angry and depressed and hadn’t been able to see a way out of the hell I had created.
I had ended up on a twenty-four hour suicide watch that Christmas Eve after slicing open my wrist with a fork during breakfast. I remembered all too well the way it had felt to dig the tine into my skin.
But cutting didn’t hold the appeal it used to. It had been months since I had felt the compulsion to hurt myself. And now, holding my girl in my arms, the need was non-existent.
I was healing. Just as I had promised her I would.
Maggie pulled away and ran her fingers down my cheek. “Pack a bag, let’s get out of here,” she urged.
I did as I was asked, grinning like a fool the entire time.
“Did your parents give you money for all this?” I asked Maggie after we had checked in and brought our bags to the room. She had gone for the king suite, which was pretty nice.
Maggie was already digging through her suitcase, pulling bags and boxes out. She shook her head. “I took a job at a restaurant by school. I’ve been saving up for months,” she said offhandedly and I was floored. She had been planning this for a while.
As if reading my mind, Maggie looked over her shoulder, her hair, which had grown out and now hung to the middle of her back, fell around her face. “It was really hard not to tell you what I was planning. You know I suck at keeping secrets.”
I snorted. “Yeah, you are. I have to say I’m impressed,” I teased. Maggie rolled her eyes and started to pull things out of bags. I came up behind her and pressed my front against her back. Now that we were alone, I was going into full guy mode.
I leaned down and kissed the back of her neck and was satisfied by the way she shivered. I looked down at what she was doing and chuckled.
“How in the hell did you get all that in your suitcase? It looks like you packed half of Target in there.” And it was true. Maggie had brought with her a tiny decorated Christmas Tree, two stockings, a snowman that lit up with fiber optic lights, two boxes of candy canes, and a canister of cookies.
“We’re doing this holiday thing the right way, Clayton Reed. So roll with it,” she warned, picking up the tree and walking over to the coffee table. She plugged it into the wall and smiled when it lit up.
I lay back on the bed and watched as she set up our Christmas decorations, hanging the stockings from the TV stand and stringing more lights around the window.
When she was finished, she went back to her bag and pulled out a bunch of wrapped gifts and placed them under the tree. It was then that I started to panic. I had sent her gift to Virginia over two weeks ago. Crap! What if she hadn’t gotten it yet? Then I’d be the shittiest boyfriend in the world of shitty boyfriends. Making an excuse to sneak out to get her a quick present wouldn’t fly.
“Stop the meltdown, Clay, I brought the one you sent me,” Maggie said, giving me a wry look. I laughed.
“Was it that obvious?” I asked, holding my hand out to her after she situated the gifts and had come back to the bed. She wrapped her fingers around mine and I gave her a tug, pulling her down onto the bed with me. I noticed the sucky wrapping job of the present I had sent her.
That gift had taken a lot of time to put together. It would have gutted me if she hadn’t been able to open it on Christmas.
“Like a neon sign, Clay. You wear your freak out on your sleeve, babe,” she joked, nudging me with her elbow.
I squeezed her into my side, her head fitting under my chin. “Thank you for doing this, Maggie. I can’t believe it. I’ve wished for this for so long, I keep thinking it’s a big, crazy delusion and I’ve finally tipped the scales to full blown psychosis,” I said, breathing in the scent of her shampoo as I pressed my nose into her hair.
“I couldn’t stand the thought of not being together for Christmas. The distance was killing me, Clay. I knew this would be hard, but…”
“We had no idea how hard it would actually be,” I finished for her. Maggie folded her hands under her chin on my chest and looked up at me, her brown eyes serious.
“I’ve been so worried,” she admitted and I frowned. Had I given her a reason to think I wasn’t doing okay?
“I’ve been fine, Mags. I swear it. Every day is a challenge, but they’re getting easier. I promise,” I assure her, wanting to erase her fears.
Maggie shook her head and looked away. “I wasn’t worried about that,” she murmured.
Now I was confused.
I tucked my fingers under her chin and pulled her face around to look at me. “What was worrying you then? If it wasn’t about me relapsing, what was it?” I asked.
Maggie sighed and didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between us and I was starting to feel a tension that I didn’t like between us.
“Maggie, please, just tell me.”
I was shocked to see the tears fill her eyes and spill over. What the hell? I wiped the wetness away with my thumbs and pulled her up so I could kiss her mouth. I needed to take this away. Her sadness, her anxiety. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.
“I thought you’d get better and move on, Clay. I’ve been scared to death I’d lose you,” she sobbed and buried her face into my shirt.
You could have knocked me over with a f**king feather. Had she completely lost her mind? How could she ever think I’d move on from her? She was my entire world. My entire reason for trying so damn hard. Without Maggie May Young, there was no Clayton Reed.
I had ended up on a twenty-four hour suicide watch that Christmas Eve after slicing open my wrist with a fork during breakfast. I remembered all too well the way it had felt to dig the tine into my skin.
But cutting didn’t hold the appeal it used to. It had been months since I had felt the compulsion to hurt myself. And now, holding my girl in my arms, the need was non-existent.
I was healing. Just as I had promised her I would.
Maggie pulled away and ran her fingers down my cheek. “Pack a bag, let’s get out of here,” she urged.
I did as I was asked, grinning like a fool the entire time.
“Did your parents give you money for all this?” I asked Maggie after we had checked in and brought our bags to the room. She had gone for the king suite, which was pretty nice.
Maggie was already digging through her suitcase, pulling bags and boxes out. She shook her head. “I took a job at a restaurant by school. I’ve been saving up for months,” she said offhandedly and I was floored. She had been planning this for a while.
As if reading my mind, Maggie looked over her shoulder, her hair, which had grown out and now hung to the middle of her back, fell around her face. “It was really hard not to tell you what I was planning. You know I suck at keeping secrets.”
I snorted. “Yeah, you are. I have to say I’m impressed,” I teased. Maggie rolled her eyes and started to pull things out of bags. I came up behind her and pressed my front against her back. Now that we were alone, I was going into full guy mode.
I leaned down and kissed the back of her neck and was satisfied by the way she shivered. I looked down at what she was doing and chuckled.
“How in the hell did you get all that in your suitcase? It looks like you packed half of Target in there.” And it was true. Maggie had brought with her a tiny decorated Christmas Tree, two stockings, a snowman that lit up with fiber optic lights, two boxes of candy canes, and a canister of cookies.
“We’re doing this holiday thing the right way, Clayton Reed. So roll with it,” she warned, picking up the tree and walking over to the coffee table. She plugged it into the wall and smiled when it lit up.
I lay back on the bed and watched as she set up our Christmas decorations, hanging the stockings from the TV stand and stringing more lights around the window.
When she was finished, she went back to her bag and pulled out a bunch of wrapped gifts and placed them under the tree. It was then that I started to panic. I had sent her gift to Virginia over two weeks ago. Crap! What if she hadn’t gotten it yet? Then I’d be the shittiest boyfriend in the world of shitty boyfriends. Making an excuse to sneak out to get her a quick present wouldn’t fly.
“Stop the meltdown, Clay, I brought the one you sent me,” Maggie said, giving me a wry look. I laughed.
“Was it that obvious?” I asked, holding my hand out to her after she situated the gifts and had come back to the bed. She wrapped her fingers around mine and I gave her a tug, pulling her down onto the bed with me. I noticed the sucky wrapping job of the present I had sent her.
That gift had taken a lot of time to put together. It would have gutted me if she hadn’t been able to open it on Christmas.
“Like a neon sign, Clay. You wear your freak out on your sleeve, babe,” she joked, nudging me with her elbow.
I squeezed her into my side, her head fitting under my chin. “Thank you for doing this, Maggie. I can’t believe it. I’ve wished for this for so long, I keep thinking it’s a big, crazy delusion and I’ve finally tipped the scales to full blown psychosis,” I said, breathing in the scent of her shampoo as I pressed my nose into her hair.
“I couldn’t stand the thought of not being together for Christmas. The distance was killing me, Clay. I knew this would be hard, but…”
“We had no idea how hard it would actually be,” I finished for her. Maggie folded her hands under her chin on my chest and looked up at me, her brown eyes serious.
“I’ve been so worried,” she admitted and I frowned. Had I given her a reason to think I wasn’t doing okay?
“I’ve been fine, Mags. I swear it. Every day is a challenge, but they’re getting easier. I promise,” I assure her, wanting to erase her fears.
Maggie shook her head and looked away. “I wasn’t worried about that,” she murmured.
Now I was confused.
I tucked my fingers under her chin and pulled her face around to look at me. “What was worrying you then? If it wasn’t about me relapsing, what was it?” I asked.
Maggie sighed and didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between us and I was starting to feel a tension that I didn’t like between us.
“Maggie, please, just tell me.”
I was shocked to see the tears fill her eyes and spill over. What the hell? I wiped the wetness away with my thumbs and pulled her up so I could kiss her mouth. I needed to take this away. Her sadness, her anxiety. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.
“I thought you’d get better and move on, Clay. I’ve been scared to death I’d lose you,” she sobbed and buried her face into my shirt.
You could have knocked me over with a f**king feather. Had she completely lost her mind? How could she ever think I’d move on from her? She was my entire world. My entire reason for trying so damn hard. Without Maggie May Young, there was no Clayton Reed.
