Free A Christmas Together by Tara Quan

more. Her therapist had told her it was because she hadn’t gotten over the separation, and that when the emotional wounds healed she’d want sex again.
    Those sessions had been a total waste of money. She got hot and bothered just fine when faced with the inflictor of said mental scarring. Nothing was wrong with her psyche aside from her obsession with the one person she shouldn’t want. At this rate, she’d have to spend a few hours channeling her aggravation at a punching bag. She planned on doing so as soon as she finished icing these cookies.
    Noting Karl’s stunned expression, she sighed. She shouldn’t have pounced on him. The supercharged atmosphere was as much her fault as his. Taking a deep breath, she repeated a line from the anger management class she attended as part of her post-separation therapy. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. It was rude of me.” What did the instructor say she should do? Oh yes, try to figure out any underlying causes of aggression. Grinding her teeth, she spouted the fourth one that came to mind. “I haven’t slept since the night before, and insomnia makes me cranky.”
    His forehead wrinkled. “Why the fuck do you keep apologizing? And what’s with the whooshing breaths in and out? It’s weird.”
    The kettle whistled. She turned the stove off before filling the cast iron teapot with hot water. “I’ve been working on processing my frustration in a logical and productive fashion.” And doing a pretty decent job at it too, until he showed up.
    “Can you stop? I knew I should have thrown out those popular psychology books the first time you went all Stepford Wives on me. The last two years we were together, you acted so damn reasonable and polite it made me queasy.”
    Her arm paused in the air for a moment before she set the kettle back in its original place. She refused to get angry. Anger served no purpose. Remembering their marriage served no purpose. Punching him in the face would only bruise her knuckles.
    Four days. She could go four days without breaking something over his thick, promise-breaking, always-absent, opinionated head. “What would you have had me do those few days you came home?” she asked through clenched teeth. “What would have been a better course of action, in your vaulted opinion?”
    “I don’t know. Ranting, raving, yelling, lobbing things at me.” He sighed. “Maybe then I would have realized something was wrong.”
    Placing her hands on her hips, she looked at the ceiling and focused on her breathing. It didn’t work. When the accusation passed her lips, it came out as a growl. “You knew something was wrong. You chose not to do anything about it.”
    Their gazes locked. There was a time when she would have moved heaven and earth to look into those dark eyes again. Even after all these years, an invisible tether held them together. She wanted to snuggle into his chest. She wanted him to tell her everything would be alright. For this reason, letting him stay scared the bejeezus out of her.
    “I’m sorry.” His voice was low and husky.
    She blinked back tears of rage and forced levity into her voice. “Why?” The last thing she needed tonight was to rehash old wounds. She’d closed that chapter.
    He slid his hand forward until it rested within an inch of hers. “There was always one last mission, wasn’t there?”
    The need to touch him scorched her insides. Her throat dried up. Her cheeks flamed. Beating back the impulse with shear willpower, she closed her fingers over the teapot’s handle and poured each of them a cup. “I forgave you a long time ago.”
    He snorted. “Sure. That’s why are you acting like there’s a force-field separating us.”
    She nudged the steaming brew forward. “It’s just…self-defense, I guess. We’re not good for each other.”
    His lips firmed into a line. “I understand why you left. What I don’t get, is why you didn’t wait for me to come home. You’d never struck me as the running