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. They bathed the 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 in your skull, 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.
They were both smiling.
Dad disappeared around the back of the house.
I didn’t move.
Not even when the gun noises happened again, and he came jogging back to the car.
And as we drove away from that house a little too fast, Dad looking back and forth across the street and over his shoulder, I realized… Christmas was still happening. But I wasn’t going to be the only kid who wished it wouldn’t—
“Bridget—”
Suddenly I was thirty again and in my own back yard as Sam’s deep, warm voice broke through the memory from my childhood. I tried to push it away. Tried to turn away, but I couldn’t. Sam stood at my side, his hand on my back.
“I forgot,” I breathed. “I forgot they… I should have thought—”
“No, Bridget, I should have thought. I’m sorry.”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the lights and it was a good thing he did because I was as trapped by them as I had ever been by my father.
But then Sam’s eyes swam into view, his thick warm body close to mine, his hands on my face, pulling me away from the lights.
“Focus on me,” he rasped…
My heart pounded as I pushed the memory away and practiced breathing so it would slow.
During the night I’d rolled so my back was to Sam. I didn’t want to move because I didn’t want to wake him. Let the man have some fucking peace and not constantly have to manage me. I hated that I did that to him. Hated that his whole life had to revolve around me and my fear.
I hated myself for keeping him trapped inside during a season when everyone else was out having fun. But I also didn’t want to try and fix it anymore. It was too hard. I’d tried for too long. It was time to accept that I was broken in this way.
I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to do anything. I just wanted the world to stop for a while.
“Babe?”
I blinked and jerked around, because the voice didn’t come from the bed. It came from the doorway.
It took a second to understand Sam hadn’t been laying behind me. He stood in the doorway in that fucking Anti-Santa suit, with the bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes piercing and brow furrowed.
“You awake?” he asked quietly.
I blew out a breath and nodded, but slumped back on the pillow. “Yeah, but… I want to lay here for a while.”
I stared at the ceiling, praying he’d go. Praying he wouldn’t take on my darkness. That he could go eat something he liked, or work out, or something. Do something that made his day better. Because I wasn’t going to be able to, and—
The bed at the end, near my feet, sank down and I looked quickly.
Sam and his fucking stalking. When he decided to be quiet, he was imperceptible.
He sat on the end of the bed, one hand on my knee, staring at me like he was worried, and god, I hated that.
“Don’t,” I muttered, then cursed myself for being an awful person. He was trying so hard—
“It’s time for your next present.”
I blinked. That wasn’t what I expected. I’d thought he would try and talk to me about last night. Or about the Christmas thing in general. Probably push me to go see Gerald, or something else.
Cautiously, I met his eyes—his worried, pleading, half-nervous eyes. “Sam, what are you doing?”
“I told you, I’m the Anti-Santa. And it’s time for your next present.”
I swallowed hard and pushed up to sit. “This is sweet, but—”
“Bridge, don’t.”
The low plea in his tone caught at my heart and yanked me back to face him.
He’d let the bag slide to the floor, but he was still in that ridiculous costume—that looked amazing on him and framed his abs perfectly.
“Don’t what?” I snapped.
He leaned closer, invading my space. “Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not, I need to go to the bathroom and… and sleep some more. I didn’t sleep great.”
“You can sleep later,” he said, then gave me brief kiss before sitting back again. “Go to the bathroom. Brush your teeth. Shower, and get dressed.”
“I’m not getting fucking dressed, Sam—I need to stay in bed today and—”
He was on his feet in a shot, looming over me, grabbing my chin and making me face him.
“Babe, I don’t think you’re listening,” he said in that lovely, low growl that made my belly tingle. “You have been very naughty, staying in the house and being accessible for my sexual pleasure for far too long. I have a present for you. A reward for being so fucking bad. You’ll have lots of time to rest, I promise. But this isn’t it. You get your ass in that bathroom. I’ll wash you if that’s what it takes. But you’re mine for the rest of the day. Do you understand?”
God, I loved it when he went all Dom like that, but my pride kicked in. I slapped his hand away and stepped past him, stomping across the room. “Fine. But I’m not smiling about it.”
He chuckled behind me, and even though that made me swear, it also made the tingle in my belly rise.
I took a long time in the shower, just to piss him off—and got out to find clothes already laid out for me. I eyed them suspiciously, but they were normal clothes. Leggings, one of his hoodies—one he’d worn so it smelled like his cologne, which I loved— and my sheepskin boots.
Sam-Krampus leaned against the door, arms folded, half-grinning at me like he knew I’d been thinking about trying to evade him, and he was pleased with himself for outwitting me.
“You’re too fucking cheerful in the morning,” I muttered, then brushed my teeth so I’d have an excuse not to talk.
When I had rinsed my mouth and dried my hands, I turned to face him and mirrored his posture, arms folded, head tilted. “What now?”
Sam pushed off the wall and closed the space between us, standing right at my toes as he reached behind him to reveal another box.
“How the hell did you hide that behind your back?” I almost laughed and had to catch myself.
“Lots of room in my sweats.”
I huffed. “Good thing. You’re a grower.”
He gave me an approving growl, then nudged my arm with the present. “Open it.”
Reluctantly—and a little bit fearfully—I reached for the box. I took the time to untie the ribbon this time, slipping fingers under the tape at the end and unwrapping it. Another Amazon box so I couldn’t tell what was inside.
When I opened it and saw the thin, black straps, at first I thought he’d bought me very slinky lingerie and my heart sank because I wasn’t in the mood. But when I picked it up to confront him with it, it was way too small to be lingerie. And when I unfurled it…
“A sleep mask?” I asked, confused. Hadn’t he said I had to get out of bed?
“Guaranteed to block all light, but stay smooth and comfortable over your eyes,” he said with a smile. “There’s more though. Look.”
I did. And the black, square box inside the other box turned out to be… “Noise cancelling headphones?”
I looked at Sam, the headphones in one hand, the silk mask in the other. “What is this?”
Sam’s expression dropped from smug and suggestive, back to that pleading I’d seen on him when I first woke up. He closed the gap between us and stood over me, licking his lips before he spoke.
“You need to get out of this house. We need to make new memories for this time of year—but don’t worry, we aren’t risking any Christmas. We’re going away, Bridget. And I’m going to make sure you can’t see, or hear anything that has anything to do with Christmas.”
I almost wept. “We’re going away?”
He nodded.
“I really like that idea,” I breathed, holding the mask and headphones to my chest.
“Good, because we aren’t done.”
He reached back again and produced a thin, black envelope and handed it to me. Putting the other gifts on the bathroom counter, I watched him warily as I opened it, but he gave nothing away.
The card inside was matte black with gold foil pattern around the edge, and an outline picture of a shaded heart.
I looked back up at Sam. “What’s this?”
“Read it,” he said—but I saw the flash in his eyes. He was nervous?
Swallowing hard, I opened it, and my heart skipped and thumped against my ribs.
~
Babe,
I wish I could put into words how much I wish your life had been different.
I wish I could rewrite history, take away your fear, and make you free. I can’t. But I’m praying every day that God will show me the way to help you and love you and keep you safe.
I know He gave me to you to remind you that there are good things here. Here in this world—not just in this house, or this town.
I don’t care where we spend Christmas. I do care whether you’re safe, and happy. So, you and I are going on vacation together. We’ll be in a place where there’s absolutely no Christmas (don’t worry, I checked.) And we aren’t coming back until the New Year.
We’re going to relax, and love on each other, and breathe.
But there’s one condition: You have to tell me what you’re feeling, even if it’s bad. You have to tell me if you want to leave. And if you decide to go, you have to take me with you.
As long as you can stomach having me at your side, we can go wherever the hell you want.
You have my word.
I love you,
Sam.
~
Tears blurred my vision as I threw myself into his chest. “Of course. I couldn’t go without you. I don’t want to be without you, Sam!”
He held me tight and whispered love to me, and it was just… It was too much. I didn’t deserve all this kindness. His patience. His grace. Dear God, he was practically perfect, and I was so far from it, it made me sick!
But I couldn’t find the words, and when I tried, he shushed me, and held my face, wiping my tears with his thumbs and leaning down so we were almost nose-to-nose.
“Here’s where things get fun,” he said, his voice a little rough with emotion. “We’re leaving town. And you’re going to have the true, Anti-Santa experience: Hot weather, no other people, no clothes, and definitely no reindeer.” His brow furrowed. “I might slay, though.”
I snorted through my tears. “ Oh my god, I married such a dork.”
“Yes, yes you did.” Sam grinned, and his eyes crinkled, and I wanted to jump his bones. “You also promised to take me with you wherever you go, so… strap in, babe. We’re getting the hell out of Dodge.”
I kissed him even though I was crying. I wasn’t sure if the tears were happy or sad, but my heart fluttered with so much love, it didn’t really make a difference.