Thawed Out (Merry Everything #4)

Chapter 2

2

F lynn drank until he stopped crying, then he crashed, wrapped up in his blanket, trying not to dream.

He and Kiren had made love for the first time here.

They’d brought both the babies here together to play, to learn about the Rockies, about bears and elk and porcupines.

Everything had gone to hell, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Their separation, a couple of months of living apart, hadn’t cooled things off at all, hadn’t made anything better. All it had done was make him miss what they used to have even more.

He didn’t understand how Kiren was acting so cool about this. The last month or so, Kiren had been focused on getting the divorce papers done and signed, but the man looked like hell, it was obvious by the dark circles under Kiren’s eyes that this was hard on him too.

Of course, who knew what Kiren was thinking. He sure as shit didn’t.

Flynn had thought that he was going to be happy getting off the road, but he hated working nights, he hated the constant stress of the ER, hated being off-kilter with the rest of the world.

Schooling was supposed to fix it, but…

It hadn’t. It had just made him tired, hysterical, and divorced.

The world swirled around him, and he was afraid he was going to puke, so he launched himself off the sofa, yanked the cabin door open?—

And fell into a drift of snow that was up to his waist.

The wind swirled around, and he could hear it in the trees, the eerie whistling and the sound of creaking branches meant this wasn’t stopping any time soon. He could barely see Kiren’s SUV in the driveway. It was hard to tell how much snow had fallen overnight because it was still blowing around, but Kiren wasn’t going to be able to get out in this. Not today.

Likely not tomorrow either.

“Goddamn it.” His cock was wet and cold, and his nipples were like ice. He thanked God for abs and pulled himself up. “Fuck-a-doodle-doo.”

At least they had snowmelt…

“I felt the cold, I thought maybe the stove had gone out. What the fuck is that?” Kiren grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back from the doorway. “Jesus Christ.”

“I fell. It’s—It’s snow.” Duh, Kiren knew it was fucking snow. He lived here.

“No, really?” Kiren slammed the door closed and chuckled, sounding for a minute like his old self. “I have to save you from hypothermia two days in a row? Sit. Blanket. I’ll start coffee, dork.”

“I cleaned the pot out and set it up last night. Just plop it on the stove.”

“Old habits.” Kiren put the pot on the stove, turned it on, then went to look out the window. “Fuck. I can’t get out in this. Do you know when it’s supposed to stop?”

“No. I haven’t cranked up the radio, but I will.” He stripped off his wet pants and pulled on some dry sweats, staying near the stove.

Kiren was wearing his favorite flannel pajamas—red and black checked bottoms and a warm long sleeved black top. They stayed up here in the closet and never left. It was the only place Kiren had ever worn them.

“No rush; it’s not stopping any time soon.” Kiren sighed and whispered, “Fuck.”

“Sorry. I had no idea.” Obviously. He wasn’t going to be stuck with someone that hated him on purpose.

“It’s not like I told you I was coming.” Kiren paced from the stove to the window and back, checking on the coffee. “I didn’t think I’d be staying more than an hour yesterday, and I didn’t even look. Sorry.”

“Well, we’re not going anywhere. They won’t plow for a few days, once it stops.” And it was about to be Christmas.

“I know. I remember.” Kiren sighed and poured them coffee, bringing his mug over before going back to add cream to his own. “Damn it.”

He sat, because there literally wasn’t anything else to do but stare at each other.

Kiren dug around in the kitchen. “How are you for groceries?”

“I have eggs, bread, lunch meat, bacon, spam, potatoes, tons of canned soup and milk, beer, potable water, coffee.” He stayed up here a lot.

“How do you feel about breakfast? I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.”

“I could eat.” Or barf. Or just have a meltdown. “I’ll grab the skillet. The stove is running high now.” He didn’t have to be worried about cooling the food at least.

Kiren nodded, handed him the bacon, then got the eggs out and started scrambling. How many times had they done this before?

How come it felt so fucking awful now?

They didn’t talk as they made breakfast, and they didn’t say a word while they ate either. Kiren wasn’t stomping around, but he could see the tension in Kiren’s forehead and feel it across the breakfast table. Kiren ate though; the man never had trouble eating no matter what was going on.

He picked at the food, eating enough that Kiren wouldn’t fuss at him, but everything tasted like cardboard. Nothing was going to be right again. He knew it.

Kiren glanced at him more than once, and he knew he was being sized up. He’d lost weight, he looked tired, he wasn’t eating—he knew. He knew everything Kiren was thinking.

“Are you getting some help? Do you have someone you can talk to?”

Okay, almost everything.

“Like who?” He had left one hospital to work pick up shifts, he was the new guy, the one that was on for one shift here, another shift there. Maybe at practicals, if he wasn’t too tired to make friends.

He didn’t have time to talk. Hell, if he didn’t get to work Christmas Eve, he’d be fired.

One more semester.

That was all he needed.

One more and the urgent care office downtown wanted him there, eight to five.

Kiren leveled him with a look. “Like a therapist, Flynn.”

“No. I’m taking the kids to their appointments, like clockwork.”

Kiren’s brow furrowed, frown lines deep and angry, and he stared at hard at Flynn. Then he shoved back from the table, took his plate to the sink and braced his hands on the counter. “What is your point, Flynn?”

“Uh…that the kids are going to the therapist like we agreed?” He had no idea what he’d done. None.

But that was it, wasn’t it?

He was always in trouble and exhausted, and he was finished.

Kiren turned around, looking pale, and sighed. “All I’ve heard since I got here is how tired you are, how much you have done, how busy you’ve been, all the things you do for the kids—as if I do absolutely nothing. As if you’re the only one, Flynn. As if I don’t make all the same sacrifices. You don’t make any room for the idea that maybe I’m just as fucking tired as you are.”

“I wasn’t talking about you. I assume you take the kids to the fucking therapist on your days. I didn’t say a single fucking thing about you. No one said you didn’t do anything!”

Kiren shook his head. “Okay. Fine. Just please stop shouting at me.”

“Wait, so you get to accuse me of disrespecting you, but I defend myself, I’m the bad guy? How the fuck did we end up married?” Kiren didn’t even like him.

“We were nicer to each other.” Kiren dropped his gaze to the floor and turned around to pour another mug of coffee.

“No shit on that. I just wish we’d figured this shit out before we decided to involve kids.” He’d honestly thought they were going to be forever.

“The kids are loved, and they’re going to be fine. But I don’t have anything figured out. Not a damn thing. I just know I can’t handle this anymore.”

He got it. He didn’t want to be the bad guy. He didn’t want to work and study and deal and then pretend that he wasn’t worn out, down to the bone. He didn’t want to be a single dad. He didn’t want any of this. “Well, you won’t have to soon. Your mom and my dad say they’ll even handle the drop-offs and pick-ups. You’ll be able to move on and not deal with my shit. I hope that makes it better for you.”

It wasn’t going to make it easier for him.

“It won’t. It’s not going to. It’s never going to be better. Easier maybe. Or maybe not even that because I won’t have to see you all the time, but I will want to. And I won’t have to talk to you much, except that I will miss you. And I guess we don’t have to sit with each other at all the kids’ events, but I still can’t imagine not experiencing all of that—” Kiren set his coffee down and swiped at his eyes with both hands. “—all of that with you.” Kiren’s shoulders shook for a second before they just slumped, and he headed for the bedroom. “Excuse me.”

The door closed quietly behind him.

“If you still want to be with me, why the fuck did you ask for a divorce?” he roared, then he pulled on his boots and coat. He would go sit in his truck, charge his phone, and pray that he didn’t beat his brains out before he could get a plow up here.