Chapter 26
HANNAH GRACE
T he light tapping on my door is so quiet I could have imagined it, if I hadn’t been staring at the door waiting for it.
I don’t have to say anything, the door opening as small as it can to fit Cole through the crack.
“It took you long enough,” I tease him, lying back against the pillows.
“Shhh. I’d rather not have your dad finding out I’m sneaking into your room after I was specifically told to stay on the couch,” he says and makes his way through the darkness to the bed.
The day after I came home from the hospital, Mom and Dad had driven up, staying for several days to make sure that Laura Leigh and I were both okay before heading home with Laura Leigh for Christmas break. The only reason they didn’t take me was my promise to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at home.
I giggle remembering the stern look Dad had leveled at me and then at Cole with the explicit instruction that Cole was to stay on the couch regardless of what we did in my house.
“I didn’t think your dad was ever going to go to bed,” he grumbles, sliding under the covers.
“You’re here now,” I say and lean against him.
His hands glide along the bare skin of my stomach while his lips find my shoulder.
“I see someone already unwrapped my Christmas present,” he murmurs.
“I didn’t think you would mind.” Reaching behind me, my fingers brush his already hard cock. “Now who’s unwrapping whose present? I doubt you walked from the living room to my bedroom naked.”
He palms my breasts, his mouth moving to my neck.
“You’re right, I didn’t. And I’ll be dressed and on the couch when your dad wakes up tomorrow. But for now, I want to enjoy my present.”
He wedges one thigh between mine, his fingers plucking at the tips of my breasts. I mewl, rubbing my hips against him as a throb begins to build in my core.
“We’re going to have to be quiet, Honey Girl. Very, very quiet.” The words are growled against my skin, and one of his hands slides down from my breasts to between my thighs. His finger moves easily through my folds, finding the spot where I ache the most and circling the hard bundle of nerves.
I press my mouth against my pillow, letting it absorb my moan as I grind against his finger. He slides another finger inside, and the pleasure intensifies.
“That’s it, Honey Girl. Ride my finger.”
He runs the digit along a spot that has me seeing stars, and my hips buck, the orgasm lapping at my toes as it builds. The other hand shifts to my hip, and he rolls us until his lips can wrap around my nipple. I whimper but there’s nothing to muffle the sound and he stops.
“Shhh,” he whispers and drags his tongue over the hard peak.
“It’s hard.”
“That’s what she said.”
I giggle and the sound bounces through the room.
“Honey Girl, you have to be quiet.” He withdraws his hand and lines his dick up at my entrance and pushes in inch by inch until his pelvis bumps mine.
“Please. Move.” I cup my hands against his ass to pull him closer.
He thrusts against me, his lips claiming mine at the last minute to swallow the mewl.
“Quiet,” he reminds me before sealing his mouth to mine again.
Only then does he do what I asked, pistoning his hips against mine, his pelvis rubbing along my clit. The orgasm fizzes through my blood, speeding through as pleasure continues to center in my core. I can’t make a sound that Cole doesn’t take, the limitation somehow making this experience hotter.
No wonder Cole was never allowed to be in my room in high school.
He speeds up, and the lights behind my eyelids burn brighter. My fingers flex into his ass and he grunts, losing his rhythm for a heartbeat before finding it again. His hands tunnel under my ass, holding me in place as he pistons against me, my own hips lifting to meet each one of his thrusts.
Our tongues tangle together and my hands slip. I wrap my legs around his waist and lift my hands to his biceps. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, building higher and higher, and I focus on the sensation, giving in to it as it takes over, the orgasm working through me, driving me into the heavens, my only tether the man who freezes as his own release takes over. I roam my hands along his back as we both drift down, our breaths sawing in and out as our chests move in unison.
“Your dad is going to kill me,” he whispers, his breath tickling my breast.
“My dad isn’t going to find out.”
He lifts his head, his eyebrows raised as he studies me.
“How do you figure when you can’t be quiet?” he hisses the words.
I can’t fight the smile that stretches my cheeks.
“It’s not my fault. Maybe you’re too good at what you do so I can’t be quiet,” I tell him.
“You can use that on my tombstone, Honey Girl. Too good at sex and it killed him.” His fingers tickle as they skate along my side.
“Stop.” I giggle, squirming away. “I thought you said you didn’t want to wake up my dad.”
He stops, his face growing serious as he looks back at the door.
“I should probably head back to the couch. What if he decides to come check on me?” He tries to lift himself off, and I lock my legs around his waist again.
“Not yet,” I tell him.
“I don’t want to go either,” he says and drops his lips to mine again before rolling to the side and tucking me against him.
I sigh and my body relaxes.
“Merry Christmas, Honey Girl,” he whispers against my hair.
“Merry Christmas, Cole. I love you.”
“Love you.”
His arm tightens around me.
Best Christmas ever.
It’s my last thought before I drift.
??????
“Hannah Grace, wake up, it’s Christmas!”
I jolt awake to Laura Leigh’s announcement as she bursts into my room. I yank the covers over me just in time, my arm reaching out and looking for Cole.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he’s not there.
Laura Leigh bounces onto the bed with her knees, shaking me under the blankets.
“Laura Leigh!” I groan, trying to hold the blankets in place before I give her an eyeful.
“Oh my God, are you…naked?” Her voice drops to a shocked whisper and she stops bouncing.
“Shhh,” I hiss.
I have no idea what time Cole left last night. I just know that I stayed asleep and didn’t wake up and put on my pajamas like I planned.
We both glance at the open door.
“Girls.” Mom’s voice echoes up the stairs, the first tread creaking under her weight.
“Crap,” I say and reach for my pajamas that are still on the nightstand next to my bed.
“I’ll go distract her.” Laura Leigh scrambles from the bed.
“Thank you.”
The door closes behind her.
“Merry Christmas, Mama.” Her voice is muffled, but the creaking of the stair treads stops.
I release the breath I’m holding and rush to throw on my pajamas and finger comb my hair. When I make my way downstairs, everyone is sitting in the living room, a second cup of coffee in front of Cole. The pale color of the liquid is exactly how I like it. Grabbing the cup, I take the seat next to him.
“Okay, Daddy, we’re all here. Let’s get started,” Laura Leigh directs from her regular spot on the floor.
I snuggle into Cole, his arm wrapping around me.
Dad studies Cole and me for several moments, his attention shifting to where Cole’s hand rests against my hip and mine rests on his knee.
“Either of you have anything you want to confess?” he asks.
Cole tenses.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Jake.”
Mom takes a sip of her coffee and my parents have a nonverbal conversation before Dad sighs. He stands, grabbing the stockings from the mantel before passing out the presents. The tradition is stockings first, followed by presents but only after Santa’s helper (a.k.a. Dad) has divvied the stack from under the tree to the various recipients.
“Did you make it in time?” I murmur to Cole while we wait for Dad to finish.
He snorts. “Barely. I ended up falling asleep too.”
“Sorry.” I squeeze his thigh and his hand flexes against my hip.
“Don’t be. I’m not. I got to cross something off my teenage bucket list last night.”
We share a smile and he waggles his eyebrows.
Dad clears his throat and puts the last present in front of me.
“Stockings,” he says and takes his seat.
Everyone has one, including Mom and Dad, and Laura Leigh has already started pulling items from hers. Cole and I reach into ours and each pull out a lump of coal.
“Daddy!” I fight the heat that fills my cheeks.
He shrugs.
“Santa knows, Hannah Grace.”
He plays Santa every year during the Christmas Eve breakfast, so I’m not sure if he’s talking about himself or the general warning every kid gets when they still believe in Santa.
“It’s okay, Honey Girl, we have more fun on the naughty list,” Cole murmurs in my ear, and the heat flares hotter.
I dip my hand back into the stocking, the coal not the only thing. I find my favorite candies and other stocking stuffers, then my fingers brush a small canister at the bottom. I pull it out, the small can familiar and needed since I just used my other one.
“Pepper spray,” I say and glance up to witness Dad and Cole share a nod.
A lump forms in my throat, grief over the loss of my best friend taking a little bit of joy from the day.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Cole whispers in my ear.
I wipe at the moisture on my cheek.
“I know.” I turn my head, pressing a kiss against his jawline. “Thank you for the pepper spray.”
“Honey Girl,” he murmurs and uses his thumb to wipe away more tears.
“It’s okay. I just…I miss my best friend. Does that make me crazy?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It would probably be better if he had actually died,” I say.
Cole shakes his head.
“It wouldn’t change your grief, Hannah Grace. But don’t let him ruin today.”
I turn my attention back to my family who have tried to give Cole and me some privacy. Laura Leigh is already partway through her stack of presents.
“What time are we expected at Cole’s parents’ house for dinner?” Mom asks.
We may be staying with Mom and Dad, but Cole’s parents have offered to host Christmas dinner.
“Mama said three o’clock,” Cole replies.
“Plenty of time for cinnamon rolls then. But first the two of you better open your presents so I can get them started,” she says.
Cole hands me a present.
“Is this from you?” I ask.
He shakes his head and picks up a present for himself, and we both unwrap the stacks in front of us until everything is unwrapped. Mom and Dad head into the kitchen to start breakfast, and Laura Leigh starts taking her presents to her room, leaving Cole and me by ourselves.
“I feel like this was a setup,” I say and eye Cole warily.
“Maybe,” he replies and stands, going to the tree and pulling out a rectangular present left under the branches.
He holds it out to me.
“Wait,” I tell him, standing and reaching for the present I tucked into the branches yesterday.
We exchange presents and I motion for him to go first.
He unwraps the box and pulls out the watch I found for him last week when he was complaining his watch face was scratched.
“It’s engraved,” I say and help him flip it over.
“‘Love is the truest destiny,’” he reads.
“It brought you back,” I say, and he presses a chaste kiss to my lips.
“You brought me back, Honey Girl.” His lips brush mine with his words.
He pulls back, gesturing to the present in my lap, and I open it to find a scrapbook nestled in paper.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
The first page is different pictures of us growing up—two friends enjoying ice cream, playing in a sprinkler, present at different town events. The next two pages are us as a couple, one so worn that the edges of the picture are frayed. It’s me and Cole on the back of his truck after a harvest parade.
“Where’d you get this one?” I ask, fingering one of the edges.
“Mama. I asked her to send it to me the first time I was deployed.”
“Cole.” I lean my head against him and sift through other pictures, other memories he’s included. Homecoming, prom, even the picture we took the day before he left for basic training.
Heat suffuses my body at the memory of what came next.
“Keep going,” Cole murmurs.
Another page turn and it’s the first letter he sent me from basic training, followed by my letter back to him. Page after page of our letters and my body tenses as I near the one that broke my heart.
“I-I didn’t include that one, Honey Girl. It may be part of our past, but it’s not one I think either of us wants to remember.”
So the last letter in the book isn’t the one that broke my heart, but is one dated the day after I got out of the hospital.
“When?” I lift my gaze to his.
“I woke up early that morning. Read it.”
Hannah Grace,
After last night, I don’t know if my heart will ever be the same. I’ve lain awake for over an hour holding you, watching you sleep, and thanking God and every other universal power for bringing you back to me. For keeping you safe.
I have loved you most of my life. But I gave you my heart when we were fourteen and I was never the same. Even when I thought you would be better off without me, my heart remained yours. I just needed a reminder that you were strong enough to make decisions about your own life. And that what I knew wasn’t always best.
A giggle escapes me and he smiles.
If it takes a lifetime to make up for my stupidity, I’ll spend my life reminding you how much I love you. How I cannot imagine my life without you in it. Seven years ago, I made you a promise. One I broke, but never forgot. One I want to renew. Honey Girl, I promise to love you with all that I am for as long as I draw breath and beyond. Forever is a start for us, not an end. And I will spend every hour of every day proving that to you for as long as you’ll let me.
This letter is my promise to you. To love you. To protect you—with your knowledge and consent. To never stop.
All my love,
Cole
I glance up, leaning over to claim his lips with mine in a kiss that is less chaste than the one he gave me.
“It’s not a proposal, Honey Girl. Not yet,” he says against my lips.
“No and that’s okay,” I tell him.
And as much as I love him, I’m okay with that.
“I want time to prove to you that I mean every word in that letter.”
“Time to be us without the adrenaline. Maybe we’ll get bored,” I tease.
He laughs and threads his fingers through my hair.
“Honey Girl, one thing I can promise with one hundred percent accuracy. We’ll never be bored.”
His lips claim mine, his tongue finding mine as every ounce of love pours between us.
Forever is a start for us, not an end.
And it looks like we’re only beginning.