Chapter 40
Cody
“Alright,” I say finally, sliding a hand over Karissa’s back. “Say good night to Ella.”
Karissa throws her arm up dramatically and waves. “Good night! Drive safe…it’s so far. And thank you for everything. You’re the sweetest, and I love having you in the family, and—”
“Okay, okay, we’re not doing speeches right now.” I steer her away from the door before she embarrasses herself.
“Thanks for driving her,” I add to Ella over my shoulder.
She just laughs and waves me off, heading down the steps. Her laughter carries until the door clicks shut, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.
When I turn back, Karissa’s already grinning up at me like she’s got a secret. “Sooo…still a fan of the dress?”
“Karissa,” I warn, low and sharp.
“What? You said it earlier.” Her fingers hook under the hem of my sweatshirt, tugging like she’s about to peel it off. “You have too much on.”
I catch her wrists before she can get anywhere. “You’re drunk.”
She tilts her head. “Not drunk drunk. Just…tipsy drunk.”
I cross my arms. “You smell like a winery. Was everyone drinking like this?”
She shrugs, gesturing sloppily. “Well, Ella is pregnant, your sister doesn’t drink, and Megan…I don’t know, she always seems like she’s drinking anyway.”
She goes to kick her shoes off, lifting one leg and reaching back for the strap. The second she wobbles, my hand shoots out, gripping her arm tight to keep her from toppling over. And just like that, my patience snaps.
“This is unacceptable.”
She blinks at me, confused. “What is? I can’t have a few glasses of wine?”
I crouch down, tugging her shoes off myself, then toss them aside before standing. “You can. But not this much. You need to be able to drive home, Karissa. If you can’t drive home, that’s a problem.”
“Cody, we live a quarter mile away. I think I’d—”
“That doesn’t matter.” My voice is sharp and cuts through hers. “I don’t care if we lived twenty feet, you cannot operate a vehicle like this.”
“I didn’t!”
“But you’re saying you would’ve?”
She falters. “No. I don’t know! God, my head hurts now!”
I throw my hands out. “That ain’t my fault! Blame…Sutter Home and Merlot.”
That earns me a snort out of her, half amused, half annoyed. “It was Cabernet, thank you very much.”
“Yeah? Well, tell Cabernet you’re grounded.” I grab a glass, fill it with water, and press it into her hand. “And drink this before you even think about kissing me good night.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, teasing. “Oh, I’m definitely thinking about kissing you.”
I harden my voice. “Karissa.” It’s firm enough to stop her, even if I hate seeing her expression fall. “Drink the water.”
She groans. “You’re acting like I’m a kid who got caught underage drinking.”
I shake my head, jaw tight. “No. I’m acting like a husband who’s not gonna watch his wife use this”—I gesture to her unsteady stance, the flush on her cheeks, all of it—“as her quick fix when she’s struggling with depression.”
That silences her. And I almost wish I’d bitten my tongue, because the weight in the room drops like a brick.
Her cheeks are still warm, but her eyes soften, voice quieter now. “You’re mad.”
I exhale through my nose, shaking my head. “I’m not mad.” My voice comes out softer this time, because it’s the truth. “I’m worried.”
The air is still until she breaks it. “You don’t have to be worried. It could be worse. I’m not that drunk.” She pushes off the counter, heads toward the bedroom, and trips over the rug. A laugh follows, like it’s no big deal, and she keeps going.
I drag a hand down my face.
“I’ll be in in a minute,” I call after her, stepping toward the living room.
Her voice floats back, playful, teasing. “Oh, I know you will.”
I just shake my head, exasperated, and scoop up my plate from the coffee table, stick it in the sink, then grab the baby monitor. Emma’s still out cold. Thankfully, she went down easy tonight.
When I get to our bedroom, Karissa’s halfway out of the dress. She eyes me and does the rest slowly, like she’s trying to do something.
“Karissa,” I warn, setting the monitor on the nightstand. “You’re not seducing me right now. You’re about to fall over.”
She laughs, tipping her head back like it’s the funniest thing I’ve said all night. “So catch me,” she flirts, voice light.
I shake my head, having zero patience for her games, and slide the rest of the dress off, fold it, and toss it on the dresser. Then I grab the folded pajamas from the bed and push them over her head and up her legs, one piece at a time.
“There.” I pat her hip. “Go brush your teeth.”
She rolls her eyes but walks off.
By the time she climbs into bed, she’s finally not saying much. She meets me in the middle, curling into my chest like she always does.
I stare at the ceiling in the dark, wondering how tomorrow will go. If this will be an argument or she’ll see the issue and say it won’t happen again.
I feel her hand start to wander, snapping me from my thoughts. She slides it down my chest, fingers dragging over my stomach until she’s at the waistband of my boxers.
I grab her wrist before she can go further. “Riss…” My voice comes out like a warning. “Go to sleep.”
“Ugh.” She groans and rolls over. “Fine.”
“I love you.”
“Whatever,” she mutters into her pillow.
I laugh under my breath, roll over too, and pull the covers higher. Tomorrow’s a new day. The real Valentine’s Day.
* * *
By the time Karissa shuffles out of the bedroom in the morning, her hair’s a tangled mess. Emma’s strapped in her high chair, banging her hands for more fruit. I’ve already set the table—eggs, toast, coffee—and the flowers are waiting in the center.
I walk over to greet her with a warm, gentle hug and kiss to her head. “Happy Valentine’s,” I say.
“Happy Valentine’s,” she says, muffled by my chest.
I pull back. “How you feel?”
“Not the worst I’ve been, but not great.”
“Yeah, I figured.” I tip my chin toward the table. “I made breakfast.” Then I grab the white bouquet off the table and hold it out. “And these…these are for you, my bride.”
Her lips curve and her eyes soften. “Aw.” She takes them carefully, like they mean more than she’ll say out loud.
I nod toward the counter, where the pink bouquet still sits. “And those are for Emma. She didn’t really care, though. Just tried to eat ’em.”
That gets a laugh out of her, the first real one this morning. “When did you even manage to get these?”
“All of us told Mason what we wanted. Made him play delivery boy since he’s the only one in town.”
That earns another small smile. Her attention turns to Emma, talking to her, telling her she missed her. I put the food on the table and we sit down together.
We eat in silence for a few minutes. Karissa stares down at her plate, playing with the eggs with her fork, before speaking.
Finally, her voice comes out quietly. “Cody, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
I set my fork down, leaning back a little so she knows she’s got my full attention. “I told you, I’m not mad, I’m worried. There’s a difference. And I don’t think you’re hearing why.”
Her shoulders drop, and she still won’t look at me. “I know I screwed up.”
I don’t answer right away. I let the silence sit, because sometimes she fills it if I don’t.
Sure enough, she swallows, blinking fast, voice shaky. “I know I shouldn’t have used it to cope with my depression.”
That hits like a punch, the way she says it so plainly. My chest tightens.
“I get it was just this one time,” I say carefully, “but I also know how easy it is for one time to turn into a habit. And that thought terrifies me, Riss. I can’t watch you go down that road.”
Her eyes finally lift to mine, glassy and red. “I don’t want to go down that road either. I just—” Her voice breaks. “I wanted to shut my head off for a night.”
“I get it, babe. I’ve been there. But it’s a dark place to be.”
She blinks at me, wiping her eyes, confused.
I can tell she didn’t expect that. I’ve never told her that before.
Not many people know, mostly because there’s not much to tell.
Just a stretch of time when Bree walked out, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Months of numbing, pushing through the days, pretending I was fine until my family finally sat me down like an intervention. That was enough to snap me out of it.
I clear my throat, trying to find the right words. “What I’m saying is…I know how easy it feels to reach for something that promises quiet. But it doesn’t fix anything. It just makes the climb out harder.”
Her lip trembles, and she grips her fork like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. My chest aches watching her like this. I push my chair back and walk around the table.
Leaning down, I cross my arms around her chest, pulling her gently back against me.
She exhales shakily, her head tilting until it rests against mine. Her voice is barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“I know, baby. It’s okay,” I murmur, kissing the crown of her head. I hold her tighter, not letting go until I feel the tension start to leave her shoulders, until her breathing evens out against me.