“Who’s it for?” The words shot out of him before I’d even steadied myself.
“What—what are you talking about?” I clutched the towel tighter,hyperaware of how little it covered. How we were standing close enough for me to see the snow clinging to his hair.
Teddy’s eyes tracked the movement, pupils dilating in a way that made heat pool low in my belly.
“The lingerie.” He bent to scoop up a handful of lace, waving it between us. “Who’s. It. For?”
“Are you serious—how’d you get into the cabin?” I managed to snatch a pair of panties from his grip, heat crawling up my neck.
“Through the door.”
“That’s called breaking and entering, Theodore.” I tried for stern, but it came out breathless. “If there’s any damage to the property, so help me?—”
“There won’t be.” His gaze dropped to where the towel gaped at my thigh before jerking back to my face. “I own it.”
I blinked; certain I’d misheard. “You what?”
“The cabin you were staying in. I own it.”
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, when he just stood there with his jaw set and his shoulders tense, the full weight of it crashed over me. The mismatched mugs, the wonky reindeer, the way everything had felt somehow familiar—it was his.
The girls had let me think I was escaping to neutral territory, then literally put me in his house.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice came out smaller than I intended.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a tell I immediately recognized. That was the problem with marrying your high school sweetheart, with building a life so intertwined that even two years and five hundred miles couldn’t fully separate you.
“If I’d told you that first night, you would’ve packed your shit and left. Driven off into a blizzard rather than stay in something I owned. Tell me I’m wrong.”
He was right, which only made me angrier.
“That’s what I thought,” he continued when I remained silent. “It wouldn’t have been fair to the girls. They wanted one Christmas where we could all be together without the drama.”
Everything always came back to what was best for the girls, what would cause them the least disappointment, the least disruption.
“Without the drama?” A laugh bubbled up, tinged with hysteria. “You mean without me ruining everything? Without me being the difficult one? The bad mom who can’t keep her shit together?”
All the times I’d thought I was helping, thought I was being the strong one, holding everyone together while Teddy retreated to the club. But maybe I’d had it backward. Maybe I’d been the one they all had to work around, the weak link in our family chain.
The last time I’d seen Levi really smile—not the forced one he wore like armor, but a real smile—had been three months before he died. Teddy had taken him to some motorcycle rally for spring break, just the two of them, and they’d come home covered in mud and grinning like idiots. I’d been furious about the mess, about Teddy encouraging reckless behavior when Levi was already so fragile.
But looking back, maybe that was the problem. I’d treated him like delicate glass while Teddy had treated him like a normal kid. Maybe if I’d been less afraid, less controlling, less desperate to fix everything?—
“That’s not what I meant.” Teddy’s hand brushed my shoulder, his voice low, dangerous. “Jesus, Kels. You’re not?—”
I jerked away from his touch. “Then what did you mean? Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you all decided I needed to be handled. Tricked into proximity because God forbid anyone actually talk to me like an adult.”
He moved closer, backing me against the doorframe. “You wanna talk about being adults? Fine. Let’s talk about this.” The panties he’d held onto dangled from the end of his index finger. “Because last I checked, you weren’t wearing anything like this when we were married.”
“Last I checked, we aren’t married anymore.” I tried stepping around him, but he moved with me, blocking my path. “What I wear under my clothes is none of your business.”
“It damn well is when you’re—” He stopped, the muscle in his jaw pulsing wildly.
But I wasn’t in the mood to hear the rest of his sentence. “I’m not having this conversation with you,” I bit out before pushing past him,needing to put some distance between us before I did something monumentally stupid. Like sob uncontrollably. Or worse—admit that the lingerie had been for me. A pathetic attempt to feel desirable after two years of sleeping alone in flannel pajamas that might as well have been a chastity belt.
I made it maybe ten feet before his hand caught my elbow, spinning me back around with enough force to make the towel slip. I clutched at it with my free hand, trying to maintain some illusion of dignity.
“We’re talking about this now,” he growled, and God help me, the rough edge in his voice did things to my insides that had no business happening when I was this angry.
