All I Want For Christmas Is You by Jessica Scott Page B

nothing but silkies—white ones that clung to his skin like some kind of superhero leotard, outlining every hard line and yes, every part of his body. He’d pulled them up high so the waist was up to his chest.
    “What do you think?”
    She covered her mouth and tried not to laugh. “That looks painful,” she said when she was sure she wouldn’t choke.
    “Well, it’s not like I’ve got any future kids to worry about.”
    The minute the words were out of his mouth, they both sobered. It was instant and simultaneous.
    She hesitated, only a moment, turning his words over and inspecting them and coming up with no easy answers. “What are you talking about?”
    “Nothing. Never mind. It was a bad joke.”
    He disappeared into the changing room, leaving her feeling completely alone. He was two feet away and he might as well have been on the other side of the world.
    “Patrick?”
    He didn’t answer. She didn’t expect him to.
    She stood on the other side of the curtain. It would be so easy to step inside. To cross that threshold and wrap her arms around him and ask him to help her.
    I ’ m sorry. But the words wouldn’t form in her throat.
    Because there was so much for her to be sorry for, and she didn’t know where to start.
    But she was tired. So tired of feeling like a dead thing going through the motions.
    She stood there, on the other side of the curtain, unable to move, unwilling to leave.
    Stuck. Just like always.
    And she was so damn tired of being stuck.
     
    ***
     
    He felt the air move across his bare back a moment before she stepped into the changing room.
    His pants hung open. His shirt was in his hands.
    Her coat was unzipped, revealing the red fleece vest she wore over god only knew how many layers of clothing.
    “Sam.” Her name was a whisper. A plea.
    A moment before he would have loved for her to step into this dressing room with him. Would have enjoyed standing a little too close. Running his lips down the edge of her ear the way he knew she liked.
    But right then, he needed some space. He wasn’t ready to have the conversation she probably expected the moment she stepped into that changing room.
    “I’m finished,” he said. “I’ll get dressed and we can go.”
    Her eyes betrayed her. He saw the unasked question looking back at him.
    It was his own fault. He shouldn’t have opened his damn mouth.
    But he’d been teasing her, and she’d been responding. Slowly, like a flower first stretching in springtime, he’d seen her, really her, not the shadow that had been masquerading as her.
    Then he’d slipped up.
    He hadn’t meant to tell her he couldn’t have kids.
    But there was no taking those words back now.
    And she wasn’t about to let it go. “What did you mean?” A hushed question.
    He closed his eyes. Dropped his hands to his sides. “Last deployment. There was a mortar attack.”
    “You never told me.”
    He swallowed hard. “Since we weren’t married, they didn’t notify you.” He looked away. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to worry.” He paused, searching for the words to explain what happened. It was hard, so damn hard to put something like that into words. “I got hit. Some things didn’t make it out okay.”
    She said nothing for a long moment. “I never noticed.”
    He smiled sadly. “It’s not like you spend a lot of time inspecting my bits and pieces these days.”
    The truth. Not meant to be unkind. It was a painful truth. Then again, weren’t all truths painful? Things had started changing between them long before her deployment. After his last tour, he’d just been happy to be home.
    He hadn’t noticed the distance growing between them. Not until she’d deployed two weeks after he’d come back.
    They’d literally done a battle hand-off with Natalie’s schoolwork and contact information, and she’d been gone.
    They’d spent almost two years apart between their two back-to-back deployments.
    He swallowed. It was too much