A Christmas to Remember by Jill Shalvis, Kristen Ashley, Hope Ramsay, Molly Cannon, Marilyn Pappano Page B

noticed.
    “No. I wasn’t your favorite person. Didn’t think I could help. Went up to Tack and Cherry’s, helped Sheila with the boys,” he told her.
    “I know. Ty-Ty told me,” she surprised him again by saying. “That was cool of you to do. They’re a handful. Sheila tries but the only ones who can really handle them are Dad, Tyra, Rush, Big Petey, and me.”
    Shy didn’t respond.
    “So, uh… thanks,” she finished.
    “No problem, honey.”
    She fell silent and Shy gave her that.
    She broke it.
    “Tyra had to cancel all the wedding plans.”
    “Yeah?” he asked quietly.
    “Yeah,” she answered. “Second time she had to do that. That Elliott guy wasn’t dead when she had to do it for Lanie, but still. Two times. Two weddings. It isn’t worth it. All that planning. All that money…” she pulled in a shaky breath “… not worth it. I’m not doing it again. I’m never getting married.”
    At that, Shy rolled to his side, reached out and found her hand lying on the bed.
    He curled his hand around hers, held tight and advised, “Don’t say that, baby. You’re twenty-two years old. You got your whole life ahead of you.”
    “So did he.”
    Fuck, he couldn’t argue that.
    He pulled their hands up the bed and shifted slightly closer before he said gently, “If he was in this room right now, sugar, right now, he wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want to hear you say that shit. Dig deep, Tabby. What would he want to hear you say?”
    She was silent then he heard her breath hitch before she whispered, “I’d give anything…”
    She trailed off and went quiet.
    “Baby,” he whispered back.
    Her hand jerked and her body slid across the bed to slam into his, her face in his throat, her arm winding around him tight, her voice so raw, it hurt to hear. His own throat was ragged just listening.
    “I’d give anything for him to be in this room.
Anything
. I’d give my hair, and I
like
my hair. I’d give my car, and Dad fixed that car up for me. I
love
that car. I’d swim an ocean. I’d walk through arrows. I’d
bleed
for him to be here.”
    She burrowed deeper into him and Shy took a deep breath, pressing closer, giving her his warmth. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tighter as she cried quietly, one hand holding his tight.
    He said nothing but listened, eyes closed, heart burning, to the sounds of her grief.
    Time slid by and her tears slowly stopped flowing.
    Finally, she said softly, “I dreamed a dream.”
    “What, sugar?”
    “I dreamed a dream,” she repeated.
    He tipped his head and put his lips to the top of her hair but he had no reply. He knew it sucked when dreams died. He’d been there. There were no words to say. Nothing made it better except time.
    Then she shocked the shit out of him and started singing, her clear, alto voice wrapping around a song he’d never heard before, but its words were gutting, perfect for her, what she had to be feeling, sending that fire in his heart to his throat so high, he would swear he could taste it.
    “
Les Mis
,” she whispered when she was done.
    “What?”
    “The musical.
Les Misérables
. Jason took me to go see it. It’s very sad.”
    If that was a song from the show, it fucking had to be.
    She pressed closer. “I dreamed a dream, Shy.”
    “You’ll dream more dreams, baby.”
    “I’ll never dream,” she whispered, her voice lost, tragic.
    “We’ll get you to a dream, honey,” he promised, pulling her closer.
    She pressed in, and he listened as her breath evened out, felt as her body slid into sleep, all the while thinking her hair smelled phenomenal.
    Shy turned into her, trapping her little body under his and muttering, “We’ll get you to a dream.”
    Tabby held his hand in her sleep.
    Shy held her but didn’t sleep.
    The sun kissed the sky and Shy’s eyes closed.
    When he opened them, she was gone.

 
     
     
     
     
    Dear Reader,
    Nothing gets me into the holiday spirit faster than listening to